Leading Like Lasso: 5 Lessons for Building a Team Where Everyone Belongs

Ted Lasso is a show about a football coach who doesn't know much about football. Somehow, he builds one of the most connected teams on television anyway. That's not an accident. Beneath the jokes and the mustache, Ted does the things great leaders do: he shows up, he notices people, he knows himself well enough to let himself be known, he stays curious, and he gives his team something to believe in.

After two decades in human services leadership, starting as the relentlessly positive new hire and eventually becoming Chief Operating Officer, I've come to believe these lessons separate the teams that thrive from the teams that just survive. 

1. Bring the biscuits: show up and know your people 

Every morning, Ted brings his boss a small box of homemade biscuits. She's guarded and skeptical, and he keeps showing up anyway. The biscuits were never about the biscuits. They were a daily message: I see you, and I'm not going anywhere. 

I know this storyline well, because I lived it. When I first started at my agency, I was Ted. I didn't have biscuits, but I was relentless and relentlessly positive. My boss and many of my colleagues were guarded and hesitant at first, and over time, I won them over. They let their guard down, and we built a deep trust that lasted two decades. 

Years later, as that agency's Chief Operating Officer, I carried the same approach into the hallways. I made a habit of walking the buildings and checking in with staff. They told me the chair arms in our therapy rooms were too hard for kids, that we needed more throw pillows, that the sound machines weren't doing their job, that work orders were getting stuck somewhere in the process. 

None of these were headline problems, but together, they were the small kinks in the flow that made everyone's day harder. However, because I heard about them firsthand, I could act on them quickly. Each fix sent a clear message to staff: what you experience matters, and you matter. 

I also made a point of celebrating with staff, noticing special occasions, and staying accessible. I never wanted my title to be a barrier, or to send the message that my role was more important than anyone else's.  

You can't lead people you don't know. 

2. Notice the kit man: see the people in the shadows 

Early in the show, Nate is the team's kit man. He's overlooked, underestimated, and mostly invisible to the players. Ted learns his name, asks his opinion, and takes his ideas seriously. Before long, Nate is helping coach the team. 

Every organization has a Nate. Some people make sure they get noticed; they speak up in meetings, stop by your office, and share their wins. That's not a bad thing, but it means a leader's attention naturally goes to the loudest voices in the room. Meanwhile, the steady, quiet people who keep things running can go months without a real conversation with their leadership team. 

One of the simplest tools I know for this is the 2x10 method. It's two minutes of real conversation a day, ten days in a row, about anything that matters to the other person except the work. Ask about their weekend, their dog, the thing they're proud of. It sounds almost too simple, but consistent, genuine connection helps people feel seen, heard, valued, and trusted, and it can transform a relationship with a colleague who has quietly checked out. 

The 2x10 turns attention into a choice instead of a reaction. It makes sure you notice the people standing in the shadows, and they're often the ones with the most to teach you about what's really happening. 

3. Know yourself so you can be known 

For all his warmth, Ted keeps his own struggles locked away until he can't anymore. His turning point comes when he finally lets the team's psychologist, Dr. Sharon, in. He becomes more honest, and a better leader, because of it. 

Most leadership advice stops at "know your people." The harder half is letting your people know you. And you can't do that until you truly know yourself. 

At Phoenix Rise, this is the foundation of everything we do. Using the Enneagram, we help leaders explore what drives them: their strengths and blind spots, the triggers that send them sideways under stress, the work that lights them up, and the parts of the job they can do but would rather not. That last one matters more than most leaders realize. The tasks that drain you are often the ones that energize someone else on your team. 

Ted gets this. He knows almost nothing about football, and he doesn't pretend otherwise. He leans on Coach Beard, whose tactical mind fills in exactly where Ted falls short. Great teams aren't built from leaders who do everything well. They're built from people who know themselves well enough to find the peers who complement them. 

Self-knowledge is also what makes vulnerability possible. For many leaders, opening up feels risky, even taboo. We were taught that leaders should be steady, certain, and a little untouchable. In my experience, the opposite is true. When leaders share something real, it gives everyone else permission to be real too. Problems surface earlier; feedback gets more honest; trust stops being a slogan and starts showing up in hallway conversations. And as trust grows, so does performance. People stop protecting themselves and start playing for each other. Richmond didn't start winning until the players trusted each other enough to play as one team. 

As a clinician, I'd add one important distinction. Vulnerability isn't oversharing, and it isn't handing your team your emotional weight to carry. Healthy vulnerability is boundaried and purposeful. When leaders only ask their people to open up, it feels like an evaluation. When leaders go first, it becomes a relationship. 

4. Be curious, not judgmental 

Ted's most famous line might be the best leadership advice in the whole show: "Be curious, not judgmental." Every lesson above comes back to it. Walking the halls, the 2x10, and letting yourself be known are all forms of curiosity. They replace assumptions about people with actual knowledge of them... and that curiosity starts with yourself. 

Teams don't fall apart because people don't care. They fall apart when people stop being curious about each other. 

5. Believe: in yourself, the mission, and your people

When Ted arrives at Richmond, the first thing he does is tape a simple sign above the locker room door: BELIEVE. Nobody quite knows what it means at first. Over time, it becomes the thing that holds the team together.

Ted's belief works on several levels. He has to believe in himself, even when no one else does. He has to believe in the mission, in his people, and in the process. When all of those line up, the magic can happen.

I've seen it firsthand. My passion for the work and my belief in the mission mattered, but it was my belief in the people I worked with that created the synergy that moved us forward. Over the years, colleagues and staff have graciously shared letters and notes with me. They told me that my belief in them encouraged them to pursue their MSW, keep working toward their license, or go for the promotion.

That's the part that stays with me. It wasn't a program or a policy that changed their path. It was feeling seen, and knowing someone believed in them. That was the changemaker.

A sign on the wall doesn't build that kind of belief, and neither does a mission statement. Leaders who live it every day do. It's built in two-minute conversations, fixed work orders, and biscuits that keep showing up.