#(ted lasso voice) do you believe in miracles?

[justifiedandrec]

[singaroundelay]

6. Ted and Trent :)

“I can’t believe you haven’t noticed. I’m screaming for someone to notice, to help me, and yet no one does!”

Ted is staring at Trent as if a pod of lobsters are crawling out of his ears and getting tangled in his lovely salt and pepper hair. For a usually reserved Brit whose voice only raises in decibels when profanity is involved — Trent is throwing a tantrum that would put his four-year-old daughter to shame.

Then again, Trent is holding Addison, his normally perfectly coiffed hair askew, both Crimms covered in bright red paint.

Ted’s lips twitch as he fights the urge to laugh.

Trent, for his part, holds out his hand in the international sign for shut the fuck up or I will end you, I don’t care how much I love you. Ted may have read a little more into the last half of that hand gesture but he’d like to think that’s what Trent was trying to silently convey to him.

“I believe I’ve caught you red-handed,” Ted says, smirking a bit. “Careful, I think someone might have dyed in here. I think —”

“One more pun and I can guarantee you will be sleeping alone tonight.”

“Whatever you say.” A beat. “Red Zepplin.”

“Ted.”

He crosses the floor and takes the paint-covered Addison from Trent’s arms. He doesn’t care as much about if his clothes get ruined — at least Ted isn’t wearing some vintage shirt that’s probably beyond saving. Ted taps Addison on her cute little nose with a grin as the girl goggles.

“I think my jokes have gone over like a red balloon.”

“Coach. Lasso.”

“Whelp. Now I’ve done it,” Ted says with an exaggerated sigh. “I believe your dad is a bit cross with me.”

“Now who is starting to sound like one of the natives,” Trent says after inspecting the damage to his shirt. “Care to explain the off-side rule?”

“Oh now, don’t go lookin’ for miracles here. I’m just glad I used that properly.” Ted shifts Addison from one hip to the other. “So to what do we owe the crime scene here?”

Trent extends one red-hand toward Ted who carefully takes it and allows himself to be drawn toward the kitchen table. Without a word, Trent holds up a large sheet of paper.

Amongst all the handprints and red splatters is Trent’s impeccable handwriting spelling out the word BELIEVE. Ted’s heart does a few somersaults in his chest, somehow sticking the landing for a solid 9.5 from the judges.

“It’s been quite noticeable that you didn’t replace the sign after Nate destroyed it. So — we decided to make you a new one.”

Ted smiles, kissing his partner on the cheek. “Careful Trent. That was almost sentimental.”

“Well, as the one now holding Addison, you win cleanup duty.”

Ted shrugs then toddles off to the bathroom. “As you say, a win is always better than a tie!”

500 words or less you prompts // Ask for one! // Read them all on AO3

[professortennant]

Ok, how about Rebecca consoling Ted after the team loses a big game?

For a moment, just a moment, she--along with the rest of the AFC Richmond crowd--had thought they had pulled off a miracle, a Cinderella story that the press would be talking about for ages. Relegated only to win a Championship League final in the very next year, a team with a vengeance and a coach with a chip on his shoulder.

He hid it well, Rebecca thought. But now that she knew he hated being underestimated, counted out before the match even begun, she had seen a real change in him. She’d asked Beard about the change during a training session she was observing, the sun and blue sky too tempting to not go out for a bit. Ted was running right alongside his players, yelling words of encouragement and correction in equal measure. 

“I think he’s realized he’s not in Kansas anymore.” A beat of silence and then, “And I think he wants to prove himself to y--everyone.”

She hummed in acknowledgment and watched as Ted blew his whistle, jogging to midfield, and animatedly demonstrating the run he wanted for his players. It seemed now that the team was on the same page, it was time to put the real work in.

But Lady Fate had other plans for AFC Richmond this evening, a night that should have been victory. A dirty tackle on Richard left him with a torn ACL, lifted off the field on a stretcher, a drizzle of rain made for less-than-ideal field conditions, and a series of simple turnover errors had left the team in disarray and confusion. It was over before it could start. 

In the locker room, she watched as Ted tried to cheer his team up, noting that third place didn’t mean they were down and out for the Premier League, that they just had to work a little bit harder for a little bit longer. But even Ted’s heart seemed to be a little bit broken, a little disappointed. 

“Ah hell, who am I kiddin’? This flat out stinks. I really wanted this for you boys, I really did. Maybe I let y’all get ahead of yourselves. Let myself get ahead of myself,” he amended, eyes flicking down to his Nikes. “And I’m sorry for that. I should have kept you focused on tonight’s game. We can’t help injuries and field conditions, but we can control energy and the fundamentals. We were sloppy tonight. That team wasn’t better than us. I know it. Y’all know it.” He sighed, looking around the room. “We are going to be promoted this season, fellas. But tonight: Be sad, be disappointed, be angry. Be whatever you gotta be tonight to light a fire under your butts because we are gonna work that much harder starting tomorrow morning.” He nodded his head at each of them before turning on his heels, shoulders hunched inward, leaving his players behind and Coach Beard to wrap up the evening. 

Rebecca frowned, following him into his office, shutting the door with a soft click. It had become custom for her to join the team--win or lose--in the locker room, his words from so many months ago still ringing warmly in her ears. You liven up the place.

But this was not the Ted Lasso she was accustomed to seeing: not angry, not encouraging, not blissfully optimistic. Just wilted. Disappointed. 

He looked up at her from his slumped position in his chair, a small, tired smile on his face. “Hey, boss,” he sighed, rubbing his hands over his eyes and through his hair, ruffling it and making it stand up. “Not our best showing.”

She stood in front of him, hip leaning on his desk, as she considered him. “Oh, I don’t know about that,” she teases. “There were some real lowlights last season. You yelling like a maniac about stopping the clock comes to mind.”

“Yeah, well, I still think it’s a stupid rule. Why keep the clock running when no one’s playing? Don’t make a lick of sense to me."

“You know what doesn’t make a lick of sense to me?,” she prompted, earning a delighted look from him for using his own phrase as a segue. She tilted her head towards the locker room where she could see players milling about, heading for the showers or crowding around Coach Beard and his whiteboard. “That speech out there wasn’t exactly the Ted Lasso motivational speech I’ve come to expect.”

He groaned and quite suddenly lurched forward, forehead smacking the desk with a loud thunk. She acted without thinking, hands immediately going to the back of his head, fingers sliding through the thick hair, rubbing his head. “Ted! What the bloody hell?”

“‘m fine,” he said, voice muffled against a stack of papers, still facedown. She laughed, relieved to know he hadn’t completely lost his marbles, and tugged gently on his hair, encouraging him to sit up.

Instead, he groaned appreciatively in a way that made her heart pound double time in her chest, fingers hesitating in their movement. She went to withdraw her hand but he turned his head to face her, the movement entangling her hands further. 

She looked down at him, eyebrow arched. “Did you turn into a canine while I wasn’t looking?”

He panted at her playfully, a small, half-hearted woof escaping his mouth. “New deal boss: You keep doing what you’re doing and I’ll tell ya the God’s honest truth.”

“You’d tell me the God’s honest truth regardless of my petting, but go on,” she conceded. It was living out a harmless fantasy, she told herself. It wasn’t her fault his hair always looked as it did: perfectly coiffed and styled until it wasn’t, strands falling into his eyes, causing him to develop a new tic of running his hands through his hair, flipping it back into place. It had been maddening to watch and she was self-aware enough to acknowledge the urge to run her own fingers through his hair weren’t platonic in the least (the other images and fantasies accompanying the urge were definitely not to be explored in a packed locker room). 

He grinned lazily up at her as she continued stroking his hair, nails scratching ever so slightly at his scalp, causing him to stutter as he spoke, eyes falling closed. “I let them down,” he confesses softly. “I let them get ahead of themselves, horse before the cart, counted those damn chickens before the eggs hatched. I let them think this one was in the bag--didn’t stop ‘em from goofin’ around at practice--training, whatever. I let them down.”

His eyes flickered open, peering up at her, sorrowful. “I let you down.”

Her hands tightened in his hair reflexively. “Me? Ted, how could you let me down? You’ve done everything I’ve asked of you.” 

“I told you we’d win the whole fucking thing,” he reminded her. “Close but no cigar.”

"I never thought you’d be one to throw pity parties, Ted Lasso,” she reminded him, tugging at his hair once more before sliding her hand down to his shoulder and pulling, encouraging him to sit up. He did so, exaggerating the motion as if every movement cost him something. She bit back a smile.

He swiveled in his chair and it was only then she realized the position they were in: him in the chair, legs splayed while she stood between them, leaning back against the desk. Her cheeks flushed warm and she shook her head slightly, clearing the fantasy from between her ears.

She reached down to take his hand in hers, squeezing slightly. He clung back, fingers wiggling between hers so they were interlocked. She forgot sometimes that he was as desperate to touch as she was to be touched. 

“You did promise me you’d win the whole fucking thing. But I don’t recall a timestamp on that promise,” she reminded him. “And this is not over, Ted, not by a long shot. We have one more chance to make it to the Premier League for next season. The season is not yet over, Coach. And I don’t want your players--our players--thinking it is, either. We have work to do and I need you pushing every single one of those men to believe in themselves and this team the way that I believe in you.”

The words came earnestly but awkwardly, a year of walls and shields and a lifetime of British distaste for sincerity and emotions making the speech stilted. It certainly wasn’t a patented Ted Lasso speech, but she thought it a rather good Rebecca Welton.

Ted was looking at her with something akin to awe, mouth parted and eyes bright and gleaming. 

“Rebecca?” he asked, voice low, standing from his seat, still holding her hand. With him standing and her leaning against his desk, he towered over her ever so slightly, just enough that she had to look up to him. “I would really, really like to kiss you right now, if that’s alright.”

She blinked at him for a moment, mind racing, before giving a single, jerky nod. The moment she indicated her consent, he was there, fingers disentangling from hers so he had both hands free to cup her face on either side, cradling her gently as his lips pressed softly, quickly to hers. The combination of the warmth of his lips, the tickle of his mustache, and the sudden shift in action had her gasping into the kiss, her hands steadying themselves on his hips, clutching at one of his ridiculous jumpers, kissing him back as insistently as he was kissing her.

And then it was over.

But Ted kept his hands on either side of her face, thumbs stroking over the soft curve of her cheek, his forehead pressed to hers. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time now, but, uh, never seemed like the right time.”

“And now was the right time?,” she asked breathlessly, her own fingers and thumbs making abstract geometric shapes along his hips and sides, tracing the lines of him.

He pulled back, grinning, and she was delighted to see that his eyes were once again gleaming with the positive, radiant, sunshine force she had come to associate with him. 

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for a good pep talk.”

[seanpatricklittlewriter]

The Movie Post

Greetings and salutations, true believers. I haven’t posted anything in a while other than shameless book promotion stuff for #FourthAndWrong, and for that I apologize. I always say I’d let you know if anything good happened immediately, but nothing good has happened. The new book is out. A few people who have read it told me they liked it. It’s not selling well. Lack of sales means a lack of reviews, which only helps it not sell faster. It’s all a vicious cycle. At a certain point, you have to remember that you’re only writing books because some tiny voice in your head won’t let you stop, and you just throw your hands up and let everything else fall as it may. For the first time, I’ve actually bothered to try real advertising. I’m giving advertising on the Kindle lock screens a go. I’ll let you know if actually works.

 In the meantime, I’ve been listening to a lot of podcasts while puttering around the house, going for walks, and ignoring the gym. (I gotta stop ignoring the gym…) If you haven’t watched “Ted Lasso” on AppleTV yet, I HIGHLY recommend it. It’s one of the best shows I’ve watched in a long time. Great writing. Great characters. Great story. Very uplifting and wonderful. One of the show’s writers, creators, and stars, the wonderful Brett Goldstein (who plays the gruff Roy Kent on the show), has a podcast called “Films to Buried With.”

 I started listening to his podcast because I enjoy him on the show so much, and I’ve found out that I enjoy his podcast as much as the show. He’s a genuinely sweet man, and he gets comedian and actor friends to guest on his podcast. The show’s conceit is that Brett invites guests on, tells them they have died, and then gets them to relive their life through the films that meant something to them. It’s a fun little chat show, and a solid way to waste an hour while you’re getting through doing the dishes or mowing the lawn.

 It’s precisely the sort of podcast I would love to be on. I’ve always said you can judge your level of success by what people invite you to do. I always said I’d know if I “made it” if I could ever get invited to be on one of the podcasts I enjoy, rather than trying to wrangle my way into someone else’s podcast or blog. So far— this has not happened. That should tell you what level of success I’m stuck at. I don’t get invited to the movies by my imaginary friends. But Brett encourages people to share their ideas and opinions on social media, anyhow. It’s a fun way to play along at home, tell other people about the podcast, and start conversations around your favorite movies. Stories bind us together. They give us common ground and build bridges toward strengthening relationships. If you meet someone new, you can tell if you’ll get along with them by what films they enjoy. So in that spirit, I’d like to answer the questions Brett asks his guests by discussing a few of my favorite films. If you’d like to play along in the comments, please do. I always love reading about what other people think about movies, books, or music. I won’t bother going through the death/afterlife conceit he uses, but I recommend listening to a few of his podcasts if you enjoy this sort of thing. It’s a fun little premise he uses to generate the episodes.

 --What’s the first film you remember seeing?

         I remember bits and pieces of several films from my childhood. I remember the Muppet Movie in the theater. I remember seeing The Black Hole. I remember a lot of little chunks of a lot of Disney animated films. But the movie that sticks out in my head is “Raiders of the Lost Ark.” It was 1981. I was six. I remember going to see it on a Sunday matinee with my family. I remember it was packed. People were literally sitting on the floor in the aisles. We got three seats someplace, but I remember my dad having to sit in the row in front of us. I don’t remember a ton about the movie the first time I saw it other than being scared of the pit of snakes and the melting Nazi faces. However, I remember the iconic moment when Harrison Ford pulled the gun on the swordsman and shot him. I remember the audience reaction and thinking, “That’s a hero.” I’ve long been a Harrison Ford fan. Between Han Solo and Indiana Jones, he played two of the most iconic heroes of my childhood. When I wrote the TeslaCon novels, I made no secret that my protagonist, Nicodemus Clarke, was just a shallow rip-off of Indiana Jones. It’s funny, but to this day, in my head, if you ask me what a hero looks like, it’s always going to be Harrison Ford.

  --What’s the scariest film you’ve ever seen?

          The scariest film I’ve ever seen is Kevin Smith’s “Red State.” It’s a movie about a religious cult that’s very reminiscent of the Westboro Baptist Church, David Koresh/Waco compound, or any of the other extremely far-right Christian separatist movements. It’s scary because there are many, many of these gun-hoarding compounds, and the movie, while extreme, is not too far off from possibility. Michael Parks plays the leader of the family at the heart of the film, and his performance was award worthy. He was truly terrifying.     As an aside, prior to Red State, I always told people the movie that scared me the most was the original “The Amityville Horror.” Basically, I saw the scene where the poltergeist made the drop-sash window fall on the kid’s fingers and nearly sever them, and that was it. I had the same drop-sash windows in my bedroom, and I was scared of them from then on. I’d like to say that I outgrew my fear of drop-sash windows, but I’m 46 and they still skeeze me out when I see them. A movie I saw 40 years ago warped me forever.

  --What’s the movie that made you cry the most?

         I used to not be someone who cried at movies. However, years of thyroid issues and depression have messed with my response to emotional moments, so I do get teary nowadays at movies. Emotionally speaking, it’s not sad movies that get to me. It’s movies where someone overcomes something difficult. Especially sports movies. The ones that get me the most teary-eyed now are movies like the first “Rocky,” “Hoosiers,” “Miracle,” and “Rudy.” I also get teary-eyed at points of bravery to the point of stupidity. The best example of that is the climax and denouement of “How to Train Your Dragon.” Strangely enough, when a movie does something that is supposed to be a tear-jerker moment to the point that it panders to the audience, I don’t cry— I actually get angry. Anything Nicolas Sparks has ever had his name attached to, for instance. It’s maudlin, and it doesn’t deserve our respect.

  --What the film that made you laugh the most?

       This is not going to be a popular answer. If I was a little more erudite, I’d say something like “Airplane” or “Blazing Saddles” or “Monty Python and the Holy Grail.” However, I didn’t see any of those in the theater originally. I was home, watching them on video. While they were funny and some of my favorite movies, I did not really do a ton of laughing while I saw them. I went to see “BASEketball” with my sister, and the theater was packed. Something about seeing a movie in a crowded theater heightens the emotional impact of jokes, and for whatever reason, that movie put me on the floor a couple of times. It’s a silly movie full of cheap laughs, but I remember hurting as I was leaving the theater. My sides and cheeks were sore. Second on that list was the movie “Bridesmaids.” I don’t think I’ve laughed harder at any movie than the scene where they all get diarrhea in the bridal shop. Especially Melissa McCarthy: “LOOK AWAY!”

  --What is the sexist film you’ve seen?

         For me, I will never forget seeing “Bachelor Party” on HBO at a friend’s house. Monique Gabrielle’s scene is probably the first time I saw full-frontal female nudity in a film. It burned itself into my brain. I probably have a thing for redheads to this day because of that scene. The rest of the movie is very wild and funny. It was one of the launching blocks for Tom Hanks’s ridiculously amazing career. But that one moment stands out as one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen.

  --What film did you used to love, but now it’s not that great?

         Pretty much anything with “Rocky” in the title and a number following it. I still enjoy them, but Rocky III and IV, especially— not that good. I used to love them. I used to watch them whenever they hit TV, but now I only need to watch the first “Rocky,” and maybe the final fight in “Rocky II.” Anything else, I can leave out. They just feel a little overclocked at this point in my life.

  --What’s a film that people and critics panned, but you enjoyed?

        “Goon.” It’s a hockey film written by Jay Baruchel and starring Seann William Scott. It didn’t get wide release—almost straight-to-video. It didn’t get great reviews. I think Metacritic has it around 60%. But something about that movie hit me, and I love it. I suggest it to people all the time. It’s got great performances. It’s a solid flick. It’s not going to overwhelm you. It’s now one of my comfort films. When I’m bored and need something on in the background, I will often choose “Goon” or its sequel, “Goon: Last of the Enforcers.” The sequel was not as good as the original, but it’s still worth a watch. Kurt Russell’s son Wyatt is the villain in the sequel. He’s extremely good.

  --What’s a film that people love, but you hate?

        Hands down: “Avatar” or “Titanic.” Something about a lot of James Cameron films just don’t work with me. I think it’s because they’re too grandiose. They try too hard. Also, the scripts are just there to get him to the big, visual set-pieces. They’re thin on both character and plot. I can’t stand either of them.

  --What’s a film that means a lot to you, but it’s not because of the quality of the movie (i.e. you saw it with someone and it’s special, or it has importance to people around you, etc…)?

       Easily, “The Man From Snowy River.” This is a family favorite. I grew up watching this flick, and I made my daughter watch it when she was younger. I will never get tired of it. I probably watch it maybe three or four times a year. There’s just something about the cinematography of the climax when Jim goes down the mountainside on Denny’s back. It’s always breath-taking. Also, if you watch “The Man From Snowy River,” you see what my dad always wanted his life to be. Most boys’ fathers want their sons to be doctor or lawyers. My dad wanted me to be a cowboy.

  --What film do you relate to the most?

        “Clerks.” I saw “Clerks” when I was a senior in high school. Rented it from a local video store. I saw two dudes who were outliers in their social group working crappy jobs and dealing with the mundane nothingness of life. It hit me right in the gut. I resolved to do something better than that. So far, I’ve failed to do so, but I keep trying.

  --Empirically speaking, what is the best film? (Not necessarily favorite film— but what film do you think is the best film ever made?)

         I have to say it was “Lawrence of Arabia.” The casting was amazing. The cinematography was incredible, unrivaled, really. The story was excellent. And the ordeal of the entire filming process was without peer. What they went through to make that movie, hands down, makes it the best film ever made. The scope of the film alone is mind-boggling.  The Lord of the Rings trilogy is a close second, but that’s technically three films, so I went with Lawrence of Arabia.

  --What film have you seen the most?

         I have watched “The Muppet Movie” a ton. I still love the movie “Roxanne.” I have also seen “Seven Brides for Seven Brothers” and “The Quiet Man” more than any single person probably should. If I had to think about it and pick one film I’ve seen more than other…it’s probably “Meatballs.” Growing up, my sister and I watched that flick a thousand times. I can probably recite it from memory. It’s also one of the films that cemented an undying loyalty to Bill Murray.

   --And finally: You die and go to heaven. And in heaven, they ask you to pick one film that summarizes your life, one film that makes people understand you, or a film you want people to watch to help them know you better. What is that film?

         Nothing has had more influence on my life than the movie “Ghostbusters.” It defined me in several ways: my love for comedy, my love for the paranormal, and my love for snark and snappy comebacks. I loved Ghostbusters so much that I watched it on a weekly basis. I ran the audio cables from our VCR to a tape deck and recorded an audio copy of the film to play on my Walkman while I road the bus to school every day. I still have the film memorized word-for-word. I will often let my eyes go a little weird and turn to my daughter and say, “Then, during the Third Reconciliation of the Last of the Meketrex Supplicants, they chose a new form for him, that of a giant Sloar! Many Shubs and Zuuls knew what it was to be roasted in the depths of a Sloar that day, I can tell you!” To know me is to understand Ghostbusters on a molecular level. I owe that movie a lot.

  Anyhow, this was a fun way to waste my night. I encourage you to play along. Answer some or all of the questions Brett asks his guests. I highly recommend listening to a few episodes of “Films to Be Buried With” on your favorite podcatcher app. And if anyone out there knows Brett Goldstein, please let him know I’m available to guest on his podcast. Until next time—Thanks for reading.

--Sean