‘Ted Lasso’ Just Found Its Footing Again

This episode of Ted Lasso is more like it. After last week’s pseudo-bottle episode came up short, the Apple TV series packed in 44 minutes of character development, wrapped up mini plotlines and launched a classic, low-stakes dilemma for our titular football coach.

All of the above are the reasons why we fell for this fish-out-of-water show when it debuted in August 2020. The show delivers when it scratches the comedy-melodrama itch with minor dilemmas navigated by good-natured characters, where the villain is as harmless as a misunderstood sports reporter. And this week’s subplot, involving new season coach Alice Chilton’s discovery of both the “Say Yes” life philosophy and improv’s “yes, and…” gimmick hits the right notes, as we finally see the writers letting some warmth into her frosty facade.

In fact, this is a pivotal episode in Alice’s (Tanya Reynolds) story. As we watch her learn and try to be less rigid, we’re let in further on her struggles to connect with others. This is crucial for the season because she’s the only new character we’ve been introduced to who’s being fully fleshed out. Case in point: Tracey Ullman‘s Zelda Southport, whose attempt to wedge herself into the executive team at Richmond, does little to ground the wealthy-benefactor archetype, though does plenty to showcase the fun the TV legend has with foreign accents.

Elsewhere, the Keeley (Juno Temple) and Roy (Brett Goldstein) will-they-won’t-they continuum sees another chapter close in episode seven, with Dr. Erin Beaumont bowing out of the emerging love triangle before it even really begins. This follows last week’s setup, where Keeley overhears the wrong part of Roy’s doped-up hospital confession of love, mistaking it for a declaration to the physical therapist rather than, as intended to, be about her.

And our hero Ted (Jason Sudeikis)’s big moment in this episode is one of his better scenes this season.

After being forced to contemplate himself while filling out a dating profile, he enlists Keeley, and the two fill out the “who am I?” profile questionnaire in her C-suite office. Some funny, cheesy gags land as Ted defines himself in a series of quick answers to the matchmaking site’s queries — they feel like a dad joke you know is funny, but wouldn’t laugh out loud at — until Ted begins to belt out the theme to The Greatest American Hero: a corny, catchy and enduringly popular TV title song he was likely destined to sing from his strangely won position across the pond.