Chapter Text
1.
Is this a fucking joke? Was the first thing that went through Trent's mind as the video of AFC Richmond's new manager dancing played on his phone.
When he had heard about George Cartrick sacking, he had almost cheered. That man was Richmond's doom. However, the timing was odd. It was the middle of the season and with the team's mediocre performance, which Trent had reported on with excruciating detail, the new gaffer would have to be excellent and get through to the team in record time to avoid relegation, which Richmond had been on the brink of for three straight seasons and had only avoided it by mere chance.
As far as Trent was aware, Pep Guardiola was happy with Manchester City and even if he wasn't, AFC Richmond would hardly be his first choice. So what was the new owner's plan? Rebecca Welton had never stepped a foot in the press room during her marriage with Mannion, but she was at Nelson Road for every game and she seemed like the kind of woman who knew her place in the world, the power she commanded and therefore would rather die than make a fool of herself after every bloody tabloid had already voiced their medieval opinion about a woman owning a men's football club. Serious publications like The Independent had only reported the change, like they did with every other one, barely a footnote.
But as the video on his phone came to an end, Trent wondered if he had misjudged her. The idea that anyone would benefit from the presence of an American American football coach on the Premier League was laughable at best. Trent Crimm did not even smile. While he could sympathize with the woman for enduring a marriage with a twat like Mannion and then a very public and humiliating divorce, Richmond meant something to him and to his readers. If she planned to bring the team down as revenge, the journalist would not watch from the sidelines quietly.
He continued his research and scowled at his phone repeatedly.
2 .
There's hardly any air left to breath in the press room. The last time it was like that was when Richmond got Roy Kent. Trent was grateful for maintaining the habit of arriving early. His seat on the second row had his name on it, metaphorically of course, so no one from the usual crowd would dare to take it, but you never knew who would be foolish enough to try when there was this much people in the place.
After doing his job and reading as much as he could about the man — Jesus, even his name sounds like a cartoon character, Trent had only one question written down on his notepad. It was the only one he needed to get Welton's attention, the other journalists would do the rest.
Ten minutes later Ted Lasso walked in. He looked disoriented, which seemed fitting. Almost choked with water. How promising. And then he addressed the room with a sweet speech about teamwork and effort, which was ridiculous on its own, before his ignorance about the basics of the sport slipped out. Trent was disappointed, it was almost too easy. But still he raised his hand when Higgins announced they only had time for one question.
When Lasso called on him he also complimented his glasses. It threw him off for a second. Premier League gaffers were not known for being nice to the press or vice versa. Their relationship was mostly civil. Lasso's smile just showed how unprepared he was for what was to come. Trent had no problem with showing it to him. He said what he had come to say and sure enough, the room erupted into chaos shortly after.
The journalist smiled when Rebecca stepped in to stop the massacre. Her words were a clear attack to her ex-husband lousy job, which Trent approved of. No one had seen her in action before, but he was glad he had not been the first one to feel her icy glare piercing through them.
"So like it or not. Richmond are changing the way we do things. And from now on, that way is the Lasso way."
Trent was intrigued as he focused his attention on the American once more. Did she really have that much faith in him? Trent could not tell, but he decided to do what he did best and wait things out. He still did not believe that the man in front of him was not, in fact, a joke, but time would tell and Trent would write.
As he waited for the room to clear a little, he also thought that the American looked better in real life than through a camera. But perhaps it was the lack of a visor and dreadful dance moves.
3
"Trent Crimm, The Independent"
"Oh, I remember, Trent" Lasso said, with a cheerful voice like he and Trent were in on a secret.
"I was just curious, can you explain the off-side rule?"
He supposed an unserious question deserved an unserious answer and as hard as it was to admit, Ted Lasso was smarter than he appeared. He deflected questions with humor, earning a laugh from most the room and in such a way nobody seemed to mind his lack of real answers. Nobody but Trent, that is. Perhaps the first press conference had been an jet lag induced glitch.
As Ernie Lounds stood up, Trent suppressed the need to roll his eyes. Nothing good ever came out of a Lounds' question. That morning was no exception. Trent's eyes, however, remained on the gaffer. He's got nice arms he vaguely registered before concern took over the American's features as he glanced at Rebecca Welton.
Interesting. Had Ms. Welton gotten a handsome and young (or at least, considerably younger than his ex-husband) manager from the other side of the world just to shag him? Typically that was a story for the tabloids, which Trent abhorred, but if he was right and it affected Richmond… No, he would focus on football. If Lasso was a fraud or Welton tried to mess with the team he would prove it through the game. It was none of his business who slept with who at AFC Richmond.
4
"Could you run that by me one more time?"
"Go to Nelson Road, watch Lasso like a hawk and write a nice little profile about the man who is going to bring the team down" his editor, Laura repeated without taking her eyes from her computer.
"But you're saying Ms. Welton requested me, specifically, for this"
"That would be correct" she replied. When Trent just stared at her, she sighed and looked at him "Apparently The Sun had some pretty compromising photos of the gaffer, you're our most ruthless journalist, they must have been pretty bad if a profile by you is a better alternative, but who cares? What matters is you've got the job, now go do it"
Less than a month on the job and already feeding the tabloids with adultery or a drug scandal? Perhaps Ted Lasso was better suited for Premier League manager than Trent had given him credit for. He drove to Nelson Road with a smirk on his face. Lasso could deflect questions with his American nonsense in the press room all day long, but a one on one interview with him? He would not charm his way out of it and the act would drop eventually.
Trent did not know how to feel by the time training was over. Lasso was really in over his head. Was it really possible to reach the age of forty five and still be this naive, earnest and ugh genuine as Ted Lasso apparently was? And was it working? Most of the team seemed to like him well enough and the new attack looked promising. Trent had not expected this level of competence so soon but the evidence was there.
When Lasso asked if he wanted to join them for a school visit Trent thought that it was the most performative thing Lasso had done so far. But then he had switched all the focus to Roy Kent and the children. The American had been thrilled just to be there and spent some time with a bunch of little ones calling him wanker. As Trent called his editor to let her know how things were going, Trent remembered that Ted Lasso had a wife and son in Kansas. The fact that his family had not traveled with him was perhaps a sign that even the coach knew his time in London would be short. Trent had the pieces, but the puzzle was not turning out as he had thought.
And then…
"What even is A Wrinkle in Time?"
Trent began talking before he could stop himself.
"It's a lovely novel, it's the story of a young girl struggle with the burden of leadership as she journeys through space"
Lasso nodded.
"Am I supposed to be the little girl?"
"I'd like ya to be"
Trent barely listened to Richmond's captain insult them both before storming off holding his niece's hand, his brain was stuck on the fact that Ted Lasso had used a book as an strategy to get through Roy Kent and such a good one on top of that.
"Hey, you hungry?" Ted asked.
Trent should've said no. He should've put some distance between him and Ted Lasso, go home, write the profile and call it a day. But the man next to him had just become more fascinating. If his curiosity was only half related to the job at that point, who would know? And so they had ended up in a nice Indian restaurant a few blocks away. Trent was about to ask how the American had found that place when the reason came to greet them and Lasso did the introductions.
"Congrats. You've both just met a cool person"
Trent couldn't help but smile at that, a little charmed. He needed to get a grip. But as an English man the level of Lasso's openness and kindness was quite disarming. So much so that Trent did not protest when the other man ordered for them.
"I can't imagine they have good Indian food in Kansas"
"I have no idea, I've never had Indian food"
What the fuck is wrong with this man? Trent wondered as they took the first bite. Trent's senses were overwhelmed almost instantly. It felt oddly intimate, like they were actual friends, when Ted offered to eat his food and Trent just dropped it on the other man's plate. But Trent was too busy struggling with the burning sensation on his tongue to notice right then. After drinking some water, he decided to try his best to be professional and went back to football. Lasso's deflection of his question, along with the ringing in his ears, finally got to him.
"Ted, what you're doing is irresponsible. This club actually means something to this town"
"I know that" Ted replied "Trent, what do you love?"
A picture of Layla came to his head. But he was not going to talk about his personal life with the man in front of him. He had to draw the line somewhere.
What followed was a nice, if maudlin, speech on personal growth. The cynical part of Trent wanted to intervene. They are not kids, they are professional footballers getting paid bloody thousands of pounds. What matters is what happens on the pitch not off it. But he thought back to his twenty year old self, the struggles he had gone through and he could tell from the look on Ted's eyes, that he meant every word and cared about every single player.
"Let me ask you this" Ted said, Trent resisted the urge to lean in "Is my tongue still in my mouth? 'Cause I'm about to hallucinate from all the heat here"
Trent made the mistake of actually glancing down to Ted's lips. He needed to get out of there. Once outside, he leaned against the nearest wall.
What the fuck was that?!