I read a paper recently called “Competent Jerks, Lovable Fools, and the Formation of Social Networks”. The premise of the paper is that there are two primary dimensions by which we evaluate people when deciding whether we want to work with them: whether they are competent and whether they are likable.
When combined, these dimensions produce four types of people: the incompetent jerk (desperately avoided), the competent jerk (mostly avoided), the lovable fool (mildly wanted), and the lovable star (desperately wanted).
When discussing the paper in my Leadership & Organizational Behavior class, it was suggested that Ted Lasso is an archetype of the lovable fool. But is he?
Before going further, let’s clarify who we’re talking about. Ted Lasso is the multiple Emmy-award-winning series about the American football coach who travels overseas to coach a UK Premier League football—i.e. soccer—club. (Fair warning, spoilers abound in the rest of this essay).
The story begins with Rebecca, the new owner of A.F.C. Richmond who took control of the club as part of a divorce from her philandering ex-husband, recruiting Ted Lasso to coach her team. Ted brings an “aw shucks” midwestern style to the locker room, which, while friendly, immediately feels out of place and comes off to many, both on the team and in the media, as a joke.
Which, if the story stopped here, we’d be forgiven for considering Ted Lasso the lovable fool. He’s charming, kind, and clearly knows nothing about the sport he’s been asked to coach. While he manages to win over the hearts of teammates and others in the A.F.C. Richmond universe, his team ultimately loses at the end of the first season, which is perhaps what you’d expect from the lovable fool. A great story, but no trophy.
When Ted Lasso returns in season two, you start to see how the charismatic coach begins to emerge as a lovable star, even as he questions his own competence as a coach.
At the beginning of the second season, the team is struggling to get its first win, having suffered an unlikely streak of ties. What’s worse, when several players start to struggle with personal mental health problems, Ted can't get through to them using tools from his traditional coaching toolbox involving warmth and connectedness. It’s only after these players meet with the team’s sports psychologist that they’re able to work through their mental blockers and start performing again on the field. This has Ted questioning his own competence and what he brings to the team.
At the same time, however, the seeds that Ted planted earlier are starting to bear fruit. Jamie Tart, the quintessential competent jerk, has returned to the team as a reformed soul and is performing at star level while being a great teammate. Roy Kent, perhaps a reformed competent jerk in his own right, joins the team as a coach, providing much-needed motivation and direction for the club from a player’s point of view. Nathan Shelley, who was promoted to an assistant coach at the end of the first season, blossoms into a wonder kid [sic] that can ideate game-winning strategies. The team is winning, even if the coach is struggling.
Ted finds himself unable to cope with his personal mental health battles and has to exit halfway through a critical match. However, the team pulls together exceptionally well, with various coaches and players working together to bring the team to perform at its highest level, ultimately securing the win.
This is where we recognize Ted Lasso as the lovable star. Even though he has very little competence when it comes to the game of European football, he’s incredibly skilled at putting together a high-performing team, going to great lengths to connect with players and recruit coaches that will lead to the team’s success. For a manager, assembling a high-performing team is perhaps the highest level of achievement. At the end of the day, it’s not the individual’s performance that matters, but rather the overall success of the team.