Ted Lasso, and why we need more healthy relationships onscreen

One of the big reasons I believe Ted Lasso exploded in popularity is because of its unwavering commitment to idealism. This is a show that just believes in the good of people and the capacity of people to change for the better. It's a worldview that is especially rare and comforting in the time that we find ourselves in—where the world and most of the people in it seem hell-bent in proving that everything is terrible and everyone is the worst.

It firmly believes in the mantra that treating people with endless kindness will, in turn, have them treat you with kindness, and it is precisely the optimism we are all starving for. Ted Lasso truly does kill its viewers with kindness.

If you're here, it's likely you don't need a synopsis. On the off-chance that you do need a synopsis, Ted Lasso centers on its titular character, charmingly played by Jason Sudeikis. This is a particular win for Sudeikis, as I believe this may be the first likeable character of his entire career, and he plays the part with aplomb.

Anyway, Ted is a former college American football coach, who finds himself accepting a job opportunity to coach a premier league soccer team in the UK—a job that he is woefully underqualified to hold. The story follows him as well as an excellent rotating ensemble of characters, both players and football team management, as they navigate their team, the league, and themselves.

One particular storyline centers around the enthusiastic and lovable Keeley Jones (Juno Temple) and general curmudgeon Roy Kent (Brett Goldstein). The two's arc through season one focuses primarily on their growing flirtation as Keeley navigates a relationship and subsequent breakup with Roy's teammate Jamie Tartt (Phil Dunster, who somehow manages to toe the line between completely punchable to someone you just want to hug). By the end of the first season, the Roy and Keeley have started to date.

Besides having an extreme soft spot for both of these characters as individuals, what really strikes me is that their pairing is one of the few relationships on television that actually feels like a proper representation of a healthy relationship.

When Roy goes through an existential crisis about his shaken identity as an aging footballer past his prime, Keeley is quick to point out that the people in his life who truly care about him, like his niece Phoebe (Elodie Blomfield), care about who he is more than what he does. When Keeley is begins to panic before a photoshoot spotlighting her professional accomplishments over her sexualized body, Roy reminds her how strong and powerful she truly is.

They are both committed to each other's growth and support one another as they navigate through situations that shake their confidence and scare them. But they each come out on the other end stronger than before, because they always have one another to lend them confidence or perspective.

While other media hinge relationship troubles off miscommunications and misunderstandings, Roy and Keeley's relationship is built on a solid bedrock of open communication. They speak to each other even through the tough times, expressing their needs even when it stands in direct opposition to their partner's wants. They don't hold back secrets from one another—even painful ones like Jamie confessing he still loves Keeley.

Partway through our viewing of season two, my boyfriend looked over at me and said, "Something is going to happen to them in the next few episodes. Things have been too good for too long." Given the general cadence of television relationships, I agreed.

But I could not have been more pleased to be proven wrong.

Roy and Keeley's relationship didn't have to go through an unnecessary tumultuous time because one party hid something from the other. Even the issues they do go through, they usually solve within the run time of the episode, because they have fostered a relationship of mutual trust, respect, and communication. And, because we have been given a front-row seat to their commitment both to each other and to their individual growth, each new development feels wholly earned.

We understand why end-of-season-two Roy doesn't feel the need to break Jamie's nose after he confesses what he told Keeley. Roy doesn't need to. It's enough that Jamie chose to be vulnerable to him, and he knows that Keeley would never betray his trust.

Ted Lasso has done an extraordinary job in proving that it isn't the rocky trials and tribulations of a romantic relationship that makes it compelling. The writers have proven, at least to me, that what can make a relationship truly compelling is their commitment to character growth and open communication—like any true healthy relationship off the screen.

It's important for the media we consume to give us a perspective into the inner workings of a healthy relationship. Otherwise, it becomes too easy to believe the bedrock of a good relationship rests on a "feeling" or a "spark" that can too soon fade. Ted Lasso doesn't shy away from the fact that a strong relationship takes a lot of work and requires a lot of difficult conversations. But it does show how that work manifests itself in producing two people who grow both individually and with one another. It's a beautiful thing worth fighting for.

And, although the finale of season two implies that there may be rocky roads ahead, it may be for the most heart-breaking reason of all. Even though a relationship has been built on a foundation of love, trust, and support, Roy may need to let go of the person he loves the most so she can spread her wings to fly.

If that's not the hallmark of a healthy, beautiful relationship, then I don't know what is.