Neurodivergent (Headcanon) Alley: Coach Beard (Ted Lasso)

It’s been a while since I’ve done a Ted Lasso Neurodivergent Alley post—which is kind of wild, since there are so many characters on that show who feel ND as all get-out. But Wicked took over my brain, so I very much had to write about that, and then a couple other characters jumped out at me and I wanted to circle back to another while it was still fresh in my mind. But I certainly haven’t forgotten about Ted Lasso, so it’s high time I worked some more of these characters back into the rotation. Today, we’re looking at the one and only Coach Beard.

As I’ve said before, it took some thinking before I saw Ted Lasso through a neurodivergent lens, and none of the characters necessarily pinged for me at the start. But if they had, Beard would’ve been a solid starting point (along with Trent and Barbara—more on them on some future date.) Ted’s good friend, right hand man, and personality foil, a few things jump out about Beard pretty quickly.

First, he’s very even-keeled on the whole. Beard’s vocal and facial affect are both fairly flat, and even when he gets angry, he tends to yell in an even tone. When he is expressive, though, he dials it all the way up to eleven and legitimately shrieks. He’s just as likely not to make eye contact as he is to stare too intently.

Beard is frequently shown reading, especially in the coaches’ office. While Ted comes to AFC Richmond with more of a hearts-and-minds focus to his coaching, Beard is the one who begins hardcore-downloading football knowledge, immersing himself in studying the game. He doesn’t have the players’ skill or Nate’s intuition for strategy, but he knows a lot more about football than Ted and sometimes corrects his misinformed statements. But it’s not just football. Beard is a fount of random knowledge he’s acquired about various topics and will gladly give a short infodump or spout a quick fact whenever it’s relevant. (Also, he has a tumultuous on-again-off-again relationship with a woman he met playing chess, and the first time they break up, it’s because Beard is prioritizing the game over her.)

Beard is often a quiet observer. He’s part of a large social group, but he frequently stays more on the periphery of it. His life is peppered by bizarre adventures—we get a glimpse of one in the Beard-centric “Beard After Hours” episode, but we’re more likely to get absurd references or offhand sight gags that only hint at whatever he got up to. He’s into drugs and mind-altering experiences, and to many of the characters, there’s an air of mystery about him. On a rare occurrence when he and Jamie are alone in the coaches’ office together, Jamie confesses, “I don’t really know how to talk to you,” and Beard replies, “Then it’s working.”

Finally, Beard and Ted are wildly different from one another, and yet they operate on a remarkably similar wavelength. Despite their differences in temperament and how they present themselves to the world, their friendship is knit together with their rituals, wordplay games, and support for one another. Beard follows Ted across the ocean to help coach a sport neither of them have experience with—there’s very little one wouldn’t do for the other, and even though they wouldn’t necessarily look like natural friends on paper, it’s obvious when you see them together. It’s sort of a platonic version of Roy and Keeley, two other neurodivergent-coded characters who fit wonderfully well together even though it feels like they shouldn’t. And that’s something that feels very autistic to me: two autistics with very different traits who nonetheless recognize how they both resonate on the same frequency.

I really love this Twitter post that most autistic folks can be sorted into either Ted Lasso Autism, Roy Kent Autism, or Coach Beard Autism. The poster, @positr0nic, further explained their theory like this:

“Ted likes being perceived, and really cares about being perceived positively […] Beard does not give a shit whether he is being perceived or not, nor does he give a shit about if it’s positive or negative […] Roy is sensitive to being perceived and generally doesn’t like being perceived.”

That’s honestly a great description, and while not every autistic person presents just like Ted, Roy, or Beard, I think that metric would still hold true. Even though I do think I have elements of both Ted and Beard in me, by that scale I would be more of a Roy Kent autistic. Really interesting to think about!

Neurodivergent (Headcanon) Alley: Keeley Jones (Ted Lasso)

*Keeley-related spoilers.*

Once I started looking for neurodivergence in Ted Lasso, I saw it everywhere. I’m not sure how many characters from the show I’ll end up covering on this particular jaunt—before my attention pulls me

 in a different direction—so I’m rightly starting with my favorites. I’ve already looked at Roy and Ted, and now I have to talk about Keeley!

When it comes to neurodivergent coding on Ted Lasso, Keeley might initially be put forth as a contender for Most Likely to Be Neurotypical, but a lot of that is trappings. A somewhat-celebrity from having dated multiple footballers, she models and later does PR for AFC Richmond, a job she does so well that she eventually gets the opportunity to start her own firm. She doesn’t really appear to struggle socially. When people think about neurodivergence, they probably don’t picture Keeley.

But honestly, if this woman is neurotypical, I’ll eat my hat. Personally, I see an autistic/ADHD combo with Keeley, though I could also be persuaded by arguments of just ADHD. The first thing I want to look at here is her bluntness and honesty. Keeley speaks what’s on her mind, enthusiastically and without filter. Her friendship with Rebecca begins when she drops in on Rebecca’s office and announces, “I’ve decided not to be scared of you anymore,” and that same conversation ends with her cheerfully declaring how gobsmacked she is by a glorious photo of Rebecca sunbathing topless. When Roy asks if she’s talking to her friends about their relationship, Rebecca and Higgins try to cover, but Keeley immediately, casually replies, “Yeah, we’re talking about you.” She values being direct, and being herself, and for the most part, she doesn’t stress over what people think of her based on that.

Keeley’s energy and excitability definitely give off ADHD vibes. When she’s happy, she’s liable to scream or squeal, and like Roy, she’s rarely shy about yelling curses in public. She doesn’t get embarrassed about showing strong emotions, including crying in front of her friends. She takes up space to make herself comfortable and doesn’t apologize for that. In her professional life, she stills surrounds herself with fun, pretty things that make her happy, even if they’re not “grown-up” things—stuff like pens with fuzzy balls on the end or sparkly unicorn notebooks.

Again, Keeley doesn’t seem to have a lot of issues with social skills and communication. She’s a friendly, loving person who generally gets along with people, and while her boisterous bluntness isn’t necessarily socially “appropriate,” her traits endear her to others more easily than, say, Roy’s withdrawn gruffness. And she knows how to mask when she needs to. It adds up to someone who might camouflage their neurodivergent traits better than some of the other characters.

But masking, of course, has a toll, and Keeley is always at her best when she’s leaning into everything that makes her Keeley. I’ve been thinking lately that her difficulties with really coming into her own at KJPR might be down to neurodivergence and masking. First, there’s the added pressure of running her own firm, with VC backing. It brings logistical/business challenges she’s never had to deal with before, she’s so busy she has to “make time in [her] schedule to sit at [her] desk and cry,” and she’s no longer surrounded by the people she knows/loves/is comfortable with. For the first time, she’s managing an office and a staff, but she didn’t hire these people. The VC group brought them in, like they were setting up a prefab firm and just plopped Keeley into it. All these things pile up, not to mention being in a new relationship that monopolizes her time and focus, and it leads to what I think is the crux of Keeley’s problems with KJPR: she’s not thinking and acting like Keeley, not really. She’s so intent on 1) keeping her backers happy/not squandering their investment and 2) doing what she thinks a kickass PR person is supposed to do that she doesn’t pay attention to her own instincts. Under that intense scrutiny (real or perceived,) she flails, freezing up in situations that she would’ve confidently handled back when she was working for Rebecca. Her mojo is thrown off-balance because she’s acting like a version of who she thinks she ought to be, not who she actually is. In order to reclaim her swagger and rediscover her savviness, she has to go back to doing things her way.

Neurodivergent (Headcanon) Alley: Ted Lasso (Ted Lasso)

*Ted-related spoilers.*

Canonically, of course, Ted deals with anxiety and panic attacks, which I would consider a form of neurodivergence (medical science seems split on that categorization.) However, I’m sticking with the “(Headcanon)” in the title, since I do primarily want to talk about autism and ADHD today. One of the things I love about Big Neurodivergent Energy shows is how we can see so many different types of autistic and/or other ND characters interacting. Ted’s neurodivergent coding is wildly different from Roy’s, or that of any other character on the show, really, and I love that for him.

We know that Ted leads with positivity in virtually all things, and that feels AuDHD to me in a few different ways. First, his upbeat attitude and unwavering belief in the best of others makes him stand out, but he doesn’t mind if people think he’s weird, naïve, or corny. He rejects neurotypical society’s expectations of judgment or grudge-holding, instead opting for forgiveness and optimism. From the outside, he might look like he’s just a pushover, but his philosophy is actually pretty radical, and he’s strong enough in his sense of self to prefer being curious over judgmental, as the iconic darts scene in season 1 demonstrates.

Ted’s positivity could also be read as his form of masking, putting a good face on everything to disguise his own discomforts and worries. As a masking strategy, it’s maybe a little unusual, because again, it doesn’t help Ted blend into neurotypical society—just the opposite. But he’s different in a way that often ingratiates him with others. His patient kindness and loving outlook wins people over, and under his influence, the entire Richmond atmosphere starts to change. Now, I think Ted’s behavior is primarily motivated by wanting to help others be their best selves, not by wanting to be accepted and liked. But I do think some of this is a defense mechanism. He has major issues with avoiding uncomfortable and “negative” emotions, and he thinks that if he’s happy-go-lucky Ted, he can just keep smiling until everything’s okay for real.

And yes, there’s definitely a people-pleasing aspect to this. Ted doesn’t crave people’s approval through what’s considered a traditionally masculine lens, and he does use relentless optimism as a way to keep people from seeing his fears sometimes. But he also really, really wants what’s best for people, sometimes neglecting his own needs in the process. More than anything, he wants people to feel happy, fulfilled, and safe to be themselves, and he puts a lot of energy into creating an environment where others are okay. Which is a great thing to want! Ted is an amazing person, and I love him for his considerate, giving nature. But because he almost always puts others first, that can prevent him from asking for help when he needs it or expressing his own frustrations and struggles.

Besides that, Ted adores wordplay—he’s full of amusing turns of phrase, he likes hokey jokes, and he plays all sorts of word games with Beard. He tends to misunderstand ambiguous statements, like when Rebecca offers to show him around and he thinks she means sightseeing spots around London, not the football club. He can be inattentive of his surroundings, which can be an issue when he’s not used to crossing the road in a country with left-side driving. He keeps an open jar of peanut butter on his counter at home so he can dip his finger in it whenever he wants, and he has sensory issues around sparkling water. He likes to entertain himself with silly or thought-provoking hypotheticals. He dances when he’s happy and fidgets with his hands when he’s anxious. I love him so much!