When I was in seminary, I served as a hospice chaplaincy intern in Austin. This experience gave me an intimate look at what it means to die a “good death.” I saw people not afraid of dying, who accepted the natural cycle of life and embraced the opportunity to reflect on their lives, their stories, and what might happen next.
My time in hospice chaplaincy came to mind as I watched what many consider to be the final episode of “Ted Lasso” on May 31. The Apple TV+ show follows an American college football coach from Wichita, Kansas, hired to coach a Premier League soccer team in London. Despite his lack of soccer knowledge, he eventually wins the team over through his intentionality. As he says, “For me, success is not about the wins and losses. It’s about helping these young fellas be the best versions of themselves on and off the field.”
So far, Apple TV+ has sent mixed signals about a potential spin-off for the hit show — and I find that disappointing. While I love the Richmond crew, I honestly want the final episode “So Long, Farewell” to be the ending. The show’s three-season arc allows “Ted Lasso” to have a good death. And I think the show’s creators know what this means.
In the first episode of the second season, the team’s canine mascot, Earl Greyhound, is accidentally killed in a freak accident on the soccer pitch. Just as team member Dani Rojas is about to make a penalty kick, Earl sees a pigeon and slips out of his leash to chase it, inadvertently finding himself on the receiving end of Dani’s kick.
While there’s a bit of shock humor in the situation, the show plays it out earnestly, showing the delicate grief of people who have unexpectedly witnessed the death of an animal. In the press conference after the match, Ted addresses the incident by recounting the story of his childhood tormentor turned beloved pet, Hank:
“It’s funny to think about the things in your life that can make you cry, just knowing that they existed, can then become the same things that make you cry knowing that they’re now gone. I think those things come into our lives to help us get from one place to a better one. And I hope we helped Earl do just that. We’re gonna miss him around here a whole bunch.”
Ted’s musings on Hank and Earl show us something beautiful about the good death. Nothing lasts forever. Death is inevitable and the ability to embrace it is a gift from God. Just as things enter our lives and make them (and us) better, they also leave … and that’s okay.
So many times, we see the stories that we fall in love with rung dry by studios squeezing every possible dollar out of them or a fanbase’s desire to cling to what they know. I’m certainly guilty of it as a fan — I will watch any amount of media featuring Spider-Man or Middle-earth, regardless of the actual quality of the project.
Nevertheless, applying the hospice principle of a good death to a beloved story can lead to something profound. We begin to embrace media for its quality rather than its quantity. Sure, it doesn’t overstay its welcome to the point where we grow tired of it but, more importantly, we get to appreciate something on a deeper level for what it has to offer in a fully fleshed-out narrative.
NBC sitcom “The Good Place” only aired for four 13-episode seasons. It ended three years ago and, even now, I cry a good deal at the existentially meaningful series finale that I have watched countless times. Bill Watterson’s comic strip “Calvin and Hobbes” only ran for a decade and ended almost 30 years ago and, even now, I still deeply appreciate the ageless, unmatched wit and wisdom of a boy and his plush tiger friend.
We got three beautiful seasons of “Ted Lasso.” We learned a great deal through these characters. Ted taught us that it’s never too late to work on ourselves, to stay curious, and to help people become the best versions of themselves “on and off the field.” Richmond owner Rebecca, who is healing from a bitter divorce, taught us that the best way to move on from hurt is not to seek revenge but to recognize our own worth. Roy, a player and coach, taught us to stay true to ourselves and be open to learning opportunities without fearing being wrong. Nate, a kitman-turned-coach-turned-rival, taught us that redemption is always possible. I could go on.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s sad to live in a world without Ted’s “Lassoisms,” Roy’s lovable grumpiness, former model and now-marketing intellect Keeley’s growing self-assurance, or the underdog victories of AFC Richmond. It’s also sad to say goodbye to the people we love, the animals who comfort us, the city and friends that formed us, the job that gave us our start, or the school that shaped us.
As Ted said, these are the things that can make us cry simply because they existed. And it is extremely sad when they’re not in our lives anymore. We never get enough time with the people and things we love.
What we do get, though, is the gift of their presence and impact. When we treasure this gift, we can let them go with gratitude when the time is right. We can grieve and be thankful at the same time, recognizing that something in the gift of this person, this dog, this city, and this story showed us something about who God is.
With that in mind, I want to thank “Ted Lasso” for the part it played in helping us get from one place to a better one. May we be inspired by the lessons we learned and offer this same gift to others.
