Chapter Text
Trent Crimm had always loved writing, since he was a little kid it was one of the only ways he found able to express himself. Especially as a young boy with hearing aids and a father who had very little interest in learning sign language or allowing his profoundly deaf son to learn it.
At school he had been teased relentlessly by bullies, his teachers became exasperated when he struggled to follow what they were saying in noisy classrooms and he was not allowed to play football for fear of his 'disability'. There was nothing stopping him from being able to play football, he had tried to reason with anyone that would listen, teachers, his father, and other kids, but they weren't able to look past the hearing aids. So he took his frustration and channelled it into his writing.
By the time he had finished university, he had a sharp tongue ready to slice anyone who looked at him wrong and a cutting way with written words. All of which had been built on the various barriers he had found in front of him. Too many people had tried to tell him that becoming a journalist was a bad idea when you struggled to hear the people you were interviewing but he refused to listen.
He had also managed to find some comfort in a group of other deaf and hard-of-hearing people through a University society. They embraced every part of him, allowed him to vent his frustration and finally taught him sign language so that he could express himself in other ways. He had also met a young woman, equally frustrated with the system that punished people for disabilities and he found himself asking her out on a date. Harriet Thomas was a powerful woman, and Trent was glad to find a comfort he had never found before, a place to call home, and he married her.
The news that Rebecca Welton had hired an American Football coach to manage AFC Richmond sent ripples throughout the whole journalistic community, the news came not long after his completely amicable divorce from his wife had been finalised and he threw himself into his work so as not to have to deal with the sudden sexuality crisis he found in the forefront of his mind more often than not.
Coach Ted Lasso, a man that looked like a walking American stereotype. In the lead-up to his arrival in London, Trent spent many hours pouring over every little detail of Coach Lasso's life and Career, he had taken an average team to a wonderful win, that must he said, however, it was at an amateur level and this was the premier league he was coming to. He also had a wife and kid and Trent had to imagine, a white picket fence house, the perfect family. So maybe he was projecting a little, he knew it wasn't his fault that he was gay, something else he had never been given space to explore until it was too late and now he had an ex-wife who was more understanding than Trent felt he deserved, and a beautiful little girl that he would do anything for but had a perpetual fear would grow to hate him for splitting up the family.
As Trent settled into the press room at Nelson Road he attempted to get a seat close to the front, he was wearing his hearing aids but in a room like this it would be difficult and he knew that it would be important for him to be able to read the lips of this new Manager. He had little time to dwell on that as the doors opened to let in Coach Lasso wandered in, looking every bit of the fish out of water that he was. As Trent watched the man speak he found a growing annoyance filling him, this straight, able-bodied man had just had the opportunity of a lifetime land in his lap and he didn't seem to understand how privileged and lucky he was to be in this position.
He was somewhat surprised to have been called upon but was ready to take this opportunity to cut this infuriating man down to size and hopefully send him running back to America. He pulled off his glasses as soon as the man complimented him, not willing to be charmed into forgetting what he was here to do.
"I just want to make sure I have this right. You're an American, who has never set foot in England, whose athletic success has only come at the amateur level, a second-tier one at that, and is now being charged with the leadership of a Premier League football club despite clearly possessing very little knowledge of the game."
He knew he was being harsh but he didn't care, he cared so deeply for this sport that he had been deprived the opportunity to place and he wouldn't let some Yanke come across and trample on that which he loved.
"You got a question in there, Trent?"
"Yeah… is this a fucking joke?"
The room erupted into laughter and other journos started shouting out questions as Trent tried desperately not to scream at the volume or the press room, it was something he wished he could get used to but knew that wasn't likely. He closed his eyes tightly as he felt tears begin to prickle in the corners then suddenly it was quiet. He quickly opened his eyes to see the American choking on some water that seemed to have sprayed all over the microphones.
The article that Trent wrote after that had been a scathing but reasonably fair review of this 'coach'. He prided himself on not writing clickbait articles, full of speculation like that which he was sure Ernie Lounds was writing for the Sun.
Over the following weeks, Trent had kept up his difficult questioning of the American, despite the charm and grace that Coach Lasso had kept responding with. The handsome smile that he would always throw Trent's way in the press room, doing something to Trent that he was night quite ready to admit to himself. So when his editor had called and asked if he wanted to spend the day doing a profile on the man Trent had jumped at the idea. Surely this man would not be able to maintain the charming person he took on in the press room for a whole day and Trent would be able to peer through the cracks and expose this man not only to the readers but also to his own heart.
So as he arrived at Nelson Road for what was sure to be an illuminating day, Trent sidled up to the man and pretended to ignore the way his stomach flipped as Ted Lasso smiled at him and addressed him the same way he introduced himself in the press room. He wasn't sure if Coach Lasso was doing it on purpose but every time he addressed Trent specifically he made sure to turn to fully face the man, giving Trent a slightly easier job of understanding what was being said.
After training has finished the team had gone back to the locker room Trent found himself spending a few minutes alone in the bathroom, he had grown his hair out quite young as a way of disguising his hearing aids to try and prevent that bias that he knew was the default in many people. However the constant rustling of it past his ears was causing him some problems today, he felt a slight headache begin to form despite the fact that there was a lot of the day left to go. So biting the bullet he pulled his hair back into a bun and sighed in relief.
After a few more moments of peace, he made his way back towards the manager's office, hoping for some further discussions with Ted, however, only Coach Beard remained. The silent look given to him by the other coach made it clear he wouldn't be up for many questions so Trent made himself busy snooping around the room. So busy that he didn't notice the return of Coach Lasso until he felt some vibrations in the floor. As he turned around he saw the man in question buttoning up a shirt and Trent once again had to remind himself why he was there and began firing off more quick-witted questions.
Again and almost infuriatingly politely Coach Lasso ensured he was fully facing Trent, and seemed to stop while putting on his jumper and then Trent looked down for any length of time to take more detailed notes he stopped. Trent was struggling to find the cracks in this impossible facade and found himself becoming slightly more infatuated with every little detail of this man. The kind consideration of his deafness was something which he had not been expecting, and he had rarely found outside of the deaf community.
While he had thought that the trip to the school must have been staged, the longer they spent there the more he saw genuine care and enthusiasm on the American's face, even with a bloody nose the man kept smiling. He allowed himself to observe the conversation between the Captain and the Coach from a distance until Roy had seemingly mentioned 'A Wrinkle in Time', a book which was one of his ex-wife's favourites, a copy of which was already on their young daughter's bookshelf despite her being too young to understand it yet.
As Trent positioned himself next to Coach Lasso almost absent-mindedly as he addressed the scowling footballer, and without missing a beat Ted moved himself to create a wider circle so he was facing the journalist as they continued their conversation.
Trent knew deep down that he should have said no to the offer of dinner, he already had plenty for the profile already but found himself agreeing, not yet ready to be parted from this enigma. And before he knew where he was, they were in an Indian restaurant seemingly owned by a man who had driven Ted around and invited him to his family's restaurant. Trent felt trepidation rise as Ted's overly familiar way ensured that the food that would arrive would be incredibly spicy and as much as Trent enjoyed Indian food, he knew where his limits were.
It was a combination of the spiciest food Trent had ever tasted and the mounting headache, as he found it increasingly difficult to focus on the man in front of him with the noise from the surrounding tables that made Trent finally leave for home. This day had been completely the opposite of what he had expected, Ted Lasso was genuinely a wonderful man, caring, and compassionate, but despite his almost overly friendly nature with every person he had met, he hadn't treated Trent any differently outside of reasonable accommodations. He also had asked Trent any of the stupid questions he had grown used to answering when people spotted his hearing aids, he had taken it all in stride and Trent couldn't help but feel his own prickly walls begin to fall. And so he wrote a profile, treating this man with all of the respect that he had proven himself worthy of.
As he made his way up the stairs to his ex-wife's house to pick up their daughter, for his week with her, he began to brace himself. He knew she had read his latest piece on Ted Lasso and if anybody could read between the lines it would be her and he wasn't sure if he could quite take the grilling that she would no doubt hand out today. He had sent a text as he arrived so he just let himself into the house and was greeted by her formidable stare. It had been that look that had finally made him confess to her that he was gay, she said she had suspected for a little while but didn't want to steal his thunder and let him work it out for himself.
What? He signed, trying desperately to play dumb.
An American, Trent, really? She signed back, trying to contain her mirth, and with that moustache.
I don't know what you mean , Trent tried to turn his head away and tried to move further into the house.
She caught his arm and turned his attention back to her, is that what does it for you, cowboys? I bet he has a deep Southern accent.
That was one difference between their deafness, Trent still had some hearing left and often wore aids to amplify that and whereas Harriet was completely deaf.
Trent began to blush but was saved from answering as his little ray of light barrelled into his legs and began signing faster than he could keep up with. Their daughter Isabel was also hard of hearing but didn't wear any hearing aids, it was something they were allowing her to choose when she felt able. Trent had felt like hearing aids were his only option as his father hadn't allowed him to explore any other option but both Trent and Harriet had agreed to let Izzy decide in her own time and in the meantime had enrolled her in a deaf nursery with a place for her already secured within the primary school.
Sunshine could you go grab your bag? he asked, kneeling down so she could see easier.
She nodded and shot off again, he took a deep breath before standing up to face the music.
Yes, he has a nice accent, yes, I have developed an inappropriate crush on him, no I will not be going anything about it, he is married to a woman.
A soft smile graced her face, so were you.
Izzy came barrelling back into the room, handing her bag to her dad before turning to her mum, bye mummy, see you later alligator.
In a while crocodile.
Trent was true to his word and was genuinely upset when Richmond was relegated, he could see how hard the team had worked and Coach Lasso had given it everything he had. He was glad to hear that Coach Lasso would stay and despite his editor offering to move him to another club within the Premier League, but he wanted to stay.
His infatuation with the coach had not lessened and his ex-wife’s ribbing had only increased, teasing him relentlessly every time they saw each other. He had been worried they would begin to drift apart after the divorce but they were closer than ever, going back to where their relationship had begun and were the closest of friends. So much so that over the off-season on one of their drunken nights in, where they shared a few too many bottles of wine and watched rom-coms together, a guilty pleasure Trent was not willing to share with anyone else, she admitted that she was in love with a female co-worker of hers and they were going on a date the following day.
So that's how Trent found himself in Richmond Green with his daughter, with a stinker of a hangover. Or at least that was the excuse he was going to use if asked why he didn’t notice the approaching American coach. That was until his daughter pulled on his sleeve and proceeded to sign a combination of the signs ‘biscuit’ and ‘coach’, at that Trent whipped his head up, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach and found a smiling Ted Lasso looking down at him.
“Howdy there Trent Crimm of the Independent,” Ted said, an easy smile gracing his lips. Trent frowned in confusion as he struggled to understand where the easy-going midwestern accent was then realised in the rush to leave for the park he had neglected to pick up his hearing aids, not having needed them at home.
“Ah Coach Lasso from America, you must forgive me I’ve left my hearing aids at home,” Trent said, trying to keep his voice within a reasonable volume while signing some of it so as to include his daughter who was looking up at him.
Trent watched as Ted’s face did something complicated before the American once again surprised him.
That’s okay, I was reading how tyring they can be, so I thought I’d learn a better way to communicate with you. Ted signed with a few mistakes but Trent understood mostly what he was trying to say. And was truly shocked, no one in his life had ever taken the time to learn BSL in order to communicate with him.
Another tug on his sleeve had him looking down at his daughter, Daddy, he can sign too?
Yes, he can sunshine, I bet he would love to talk to you.
And with that Izzy began signing at a rapid pace and Ted took almost all of it in his stride, occasionally looking up at Trent who repeated a few signs at a slower pace for Ted so he could fully understand. They spent a great few hours in the park before Trent could tell that Izzy was getting tired and could do with an afternoon nap, so he began to pack everything up.
Thank you, Ted, this has met a lot to me.
I do love our chats, Trent.
It was a rough start to the season for AFC Richmond, especially with the death of Earl on top of so many draws. But Ted was just as charming as ever, telling a beautiful story. Trent couldn't take his eyes off Ted the whole time. As much as he was upset about Richmond and relegation, he revelled in the quieter press room. Ted also made sure to face him and often incorporated a few subtle signs to help Trent but not make him feel singled out. Trent's heart fluttered every time Ted caught his eye no matter how hard he tried to stop it.
He had become worried when he saw Ted running off during the Tottenham, he didn't look well and Trent had to keep himself from reaching out to Ted. That wasn't his job, he had to stay objective, he was a journalist. So he kept his worry to himself.
It wasn't until a few days later, after an average date that he was looking forward to forgetting over a bottle of wine with Harriet, remembering never to tell her about the man's moustache, that he ran into Ted. Or at least he had his date wait outside as he swaggered up to Ted.
"Of all the pub joints."
"Trent Crimm of the Independent, to what do I owe the pleasure," Ted said, while signing, the pub wasn't particularly loud but Trent did appreciate the extra effort.
"I was just having a bite to eat, you know?" He lied, for some reason he couldn't tell Ted about his date. He wished it had been Ted sat across from him, signing his little rhyming jokes that didn't really work in BSL but made Trent laugh all the same.
"But as we're here, I would love to get an official statement about your early departure from the Spurs Match." Trent felt the guilt rise in him as the easy smile fell from Ted's face, Trent wished he could tell him that he wanted to know for his own peace of mind, but he… he couldn't, he had to stay objective.
"An official statement, oh? I thought folks knew I had food poisoning." Mae coughed. "Not from here."
"Yeah, yeah. They do, but uh, I'd love a personal quote, if possible." He was desperate to drop all the pretence and just ask him outright.
"Okay, um, well, I had food poisoning, and because I respect your readers so much I'll leave out all the specific nastiness that occurred. But I'm fit as a fiddle now." It was a lie, Trent knew, he watched the way Ted's hands shook slightly and the tension in his body.
"So you had food poisoning and you are fit as a fiddle now…"
He looked up from his notepad, hoping Ted would trust him.
"Exactamundo, Dikembe Mutombo."
He took a breath, stuffing his notebook back into his pocket.
Ted, please, tell me the truth, I'm worried about you. Trent finally allowed himself to be a person and not just a journalist.
Ted took a shaky breath himself, Trent… this cannot go any further.
Trent nodded, off the record, I'm asking as a friend.
I had a panic attack, something that's been happening more often recently. I've been seeing a therapist about it and I'm getting there but… I've just been too scared to tell anyone else.
Trent nodded, but before he could say anything else Ted started up.
Could we go back to my apartment, we can discuss it more there?
Trent knew he should say no, he could go home, write this all up, get the exclusive, expose everything, however for the first time in his life, the idea of writing about it made him sick to his stomach. With his date long forgotten he turned to the other man.
Of course, Ted.
They spent the next few hours sitting on Ted's couch talking about it all, how Ted had gotten his first one after the win in Liverpool, how he had been struggling to embrace therapy but realised it was exactly what he needed. They shared stories about divorce as they both started to learn more about each other. Trent was impressed by how far Ted's signing had come on since that afternoon in the park.
The conversation started to wind down, Ted gave Trent a look that sent shivers down his spine. Maybe it was the stupid crush that he had been carrying around for almost a year but Trent felt hope begin to pull in his stomach.
Trent I didn't just learn sign language to be able to chat to you and your daughter in a park. There was something I'd been working up the courage to ask.
The butterflies in his stomach intensified and Trent struggled to keep focused on what the other man was saying.
Trent, can I kiss you?
Instead of answering Trent leaned forward and whispered yes against Ted's lips as electricity surged through them. For the first time in a long time, Trent felt alive, like everything had been building to this moment, here with this man, his whole being was appreciated, he didn't have to pretend to be someone else. He didn't have to struggle to communicate, he didn't have to project a false image and make himself into someone he wasn't. Ted allowed him to be everything he truly was and Trent was going to hold onto this for as long as he could.