An American football coach parachuted into the role of manager of an English soccer club, knowing nothing about the game, Ted Lasso is a managerial anomaly who has become something of a role model. His approach is seemingly naive but is in fact deeply human and effective. He challenges norms by managing through meaning, trust, and attention to others. In times of doubt, he doesn’t try to control everything, but rather to create the conditions for others to rise and succeed.
But first and foremost, I would like to give credit where credit is due. I sometimes have excellent ideas for articles, but I totally stole this one from my friend Alexandre Pachulski. We met at an event on the role of the manager (Is manager still a profession?) and he told me about Ted Lasso at the time. As a fan of TV series, I must admit that I had completely overlooked this one: a little too naive and positive for my taste from what I had seen. But he convinced me to give it a try, and after watching all three seasons (the fourth is in the works), I found, like Alexandre ([FR]Manager friends, play it like Ted Lasso!), a source of inspiration that I couldn’t pass up.
Me: “Ted, you took charge of a soccer team without knowing anything about the sport. How do you manage when you’re not an expert in the field?”
Ted Lasso. Oh, that… I was as lost as a cowboy on the subway. I arrived in England with my sneakers, my accent, and no idea what offside was. But I had something else: the belief that people only give their best when you believe in them. So I spent less time learning the rules and more time getting to know the guys. I listened to them, watched them, supported them. And above all, I stopped pretending I understood everything.
The players saw that I wasn’t there to lecture them, but to help them shine. There was one moment that really stood out for me: Jamie Tartt, our star striker, was extremely talented but very individualistic. If I had tried to give him technical advice, he would have laughed in my face.
But by giving him responsibility, by helping him understand that he could be a leader and not just a star, he changed. He grew up. And I realized that my job wasn’t to know how to take a free kick, but to create the conditions for them to want to take one for the team, not just for their ego.
Me: “you embody a surprising kind of kindness. It’s not weak or naive. What does being a kind manager mean to you?”
Ted Lasso. A lot of people confuse kindness with weakness. But trust me, being kind isn’t telling everyone they’re doing a good job when they’re not. It’s believing that even when someone messes up, it’s worth helping them improve rather than tearing them down. It’s reaching out… but staying firm.
I’ve had some very frank conversations with certain players and staff members. With Nate, for example, when he started getting a big head, I didn’t humiliate him, but I talked to him. Calmly. I told him what I saw, how I felt, how it made others feel. And I gave him space to reflect on himself. It took time, but he eventually came back because we never cut the cord.
Being kind means believing in second chances. But it also means knowing how to say “no” when necessary. Just… without crushing the other person, because you don’t grow up in fear. You grow up in confidence, even when it stings a little.
Me: “in your team, we sometimes get the impression that you’re not at the center of decisions. Is that intentional?”
Ted Lasso. Oh, totally. I’ve never needed to be the guy who talks the loudest. I’ve always thought that a good manager is a bit like a good gardener: they don’t grow the plants, but they create the right soil, the right light, and the right watering so that they grow on their own. If everything depends on me, then I’ve missed something.
Take Roy Kent, the former player turned coach. He struggled to feel legitimate. I didn’t tell him how to do his job. I just gave him the confidence and freedom to do it his way, and when he started making his own choices, even if I didn’t always agree, I stepped back. Because my job wasn’t to be right. It was to make sure he took his place. When everyone feels responsible, aligned, and respected, decisions are made where they need to be made, not in my office.
Me: “hasn’t optimism become a little ridiculous in today’s business world?”
Ted Lasso. I understand the question. It’s true that optimism, when misunderstood, can look like a guy smiling while the ship is sinking. But I’m not talking about blissful optimism. I’m talking about the kind that gets you up in the morning to try again. The kind that makes you believe that a guy who’s failed can bounce back. The kind that makes you build even when you doubt yourself.
When I started in Richmond, everyone thought we were going to sink. Even my own players. My role wasn’t to tell them, “Everything’s going to be fine”. It was to tell them, “We’re going to find a way, together”. And day after day, it was that optimism that kept us going. In a company, if you don’t have at least one person who believes it can work, who’s going to turn the lights back on when everyone else gives up?
Me: “last question: what advice would you give to a manager taking on a difficult job in an unfamiliar field?”
Ted Lasso. I would say, “Be curious, ask questions, don’t pretend to know everything”. People can tell very quickly if you’re being sincere or if you’re just playing a role. And above all, “Take an interest in people, not just their jobs. Learn their first names, listen to their stories. They are the ones who will help you understand the culture, the codes, and the real rules of the game”.
And don’t try to “impose yourself”. You have nothing to prove. What you want is to build trust, and that takes time. Sometimes you’ll make mistakes, but if people see that you’re there for them, not for your ego, they’ll repay you one day.
Image credit: Image generated by artificial intelligence via ChatGPT (OpenAI)
