A Litte Bit Ted, A Little Bit Tony

In the first year of my second born's life, two shows became my escape and, unexpectedly, an education in leadership and teambuilding.

One was Ted Lasso, which I watched in my in-laws’ darkened movie room, my four-week-old and 20-month-old sleeping down the hall. We were temporarily displaced from our home because of a massive mold remediation project. (It started raining in my living room when my baby was two weeks old—a chaos story for another day.) Watching Ted Lasso in those moments felt like pressing a warm, mustachioed hand against my heart. With each episode, I felt just a little more connected to humanity.

The other was The Sopranos, which I watched prone in the evenings when I was too exhausted to do anything but collapse on the couch. After a full day of taking care of two tiny humans and running a company, all I could do was zone out and let Tony Soprano’s chaotic world unfold on the screen. But instead of comfort, the show gave me something else entirely: a growing sense of suspicion and unease. It had me rethinking a lot of the interactions I’ve had over the years with various leaders, collaborators, and peers.

At the same time, I started having debilitating panic attacks. Call it postpartum depression. Call it deep misalignment. Whatever the name, my body was sending me a clear message: something wasn’t right.

As I watched these shows in the midst of my own struggle, something clicked. Ted and Tony weren’t just leaders—they were mirrors. Their stories reflected what happens when leadership and mental health collide, for better or worse. Unironically, panic attacks are central to both Ted Lasso and The Sopranos. Ted and Tony each battle their inner turmoil, but their journeys—and the interventions from mental health professionals—couldn’t be more different. In their struggles, I saw echoes of my own, and through their choices, I began to see what was possible for me.

Both shows are about leadership, though they couldn’t possibly be more different. Tony Soprano and Ted Lasso embody two extreme styles of leading—one rooted in fear and power, the other in trust and empathy. Watching these shows back-to-back, in such a pivotal moment of my life, forced me to wrestle with this question: What kind of leader am I, and what kind of leader do I want to be? Moreover: what kind of leaders do I want to surround myself with?

Tony Soprano: Leading Through Fear

Tony Soprano leads with power, control, and a keen ability to manipulate. One of the most striking dynamics in The Sopranos is Tony’s relationship with his consigliere, Silvio Dante. Silvio is loyal, calculated, and deeply invested in Tony’s leadership—even when it clearly goes against his own values or better judgment. He benefits from Tony’s power, but he also enables Tony’s worst tendencies, acting as a buffer between Tony and the full consequences of his decisions.

There’s a scene that captures this perfectly. After a messy situation involving a botched hit, Silvio steps in to smooth things over. He knows the plan was flawed from the start, but instead of questioning Tony, he plays damage control. Silvio has aligned himself so closely with Tony that his success, safety, and even his identity are tied to Tony’s leadership. But here’s the catch: he can never challenge Tony without risking everything.

I’ve been there. I’ve had moments in my career when I acted like Silvio—staying close to someone in power, trying to manage their worst impulses while reaping the secondary benefits of their position. It’s easy to justify this role as necessary, even noble. “If I’m not here to temper them,” you think, “things will be worse.” But here’s the truth: when you’re constantly cleaning up after someone else’s destructive leadership, you’re not protecting the organization. You’re enabling its dysfunction.

And then there’s Dr. Melfi, Tony’s psychologist, who spends much of the series convinced she can help him. She believes her insights and guidance might inspire Tony to change, to be better. But over time, she’s forced to admit the reality: Tony isn’t just a flawed leader—he’s a sociopath. He’s incapable of genuine self-reflection or transformation. The system he’s created isn’t meant to evolve; it’s designed to protect his power at all costs.

How many of us have tried to "manage up" in systems like that? How often do we think we can shift the behavior of a toxic leader, only to realize we’re fighting against a structure that rewards and reinforces their worst tendencies?

The Lesson: Tony’s decisiveness and confidence are undeniably powerful in moments of crisis, but his leadership is a trap. Fear-based leadership creates compliance, not commitment. It leaves people like Silvio scrambling to protect the leader instead of questioning whether the system itself is broken. If you find yourself in this dynamic, ask yourself: Are you leading change, or just cleaning up the mess? And are you spending more energy managing someone else’s dysfunction than building something meaningful of your own?

Tony’s panic attacks are also telling. They’re not random—they’re the result of a life lived out of alignment, where vulnerability is avoided at all costs. He goes to therapy with Dr. Melfi, but instead of addressing the root causes of his struggles, he uses the sessions to manipulate and justify his behavior. It’s a cautionary tale about what happens when we refuse to evolve, when we let fear and control rule our lives instead of doing the hard work of self-reflection.

Ted Lasso: Leading Through Trust

Ted Lasso leads with belief—not just in himself or the mission, but in the people around him. He sees what others can become before they can see it themselves, and he gives them the space, trust, and encouragement to grow into that potential.

Take Nate, the kit boy. When Ted arrives, Nate is invisible to the team. Nobody respects him. Nobody listens to him. But Ted notices him. More importantly, Ted listens. He sees something in Nate—a spark, a talent—and he nurtures it.

Through Ted’s encouragement, Nate transforms. He goes from an overlooked kit boy to an integral part of the coaching team. Ted gives him space to grow, responsibility to handle, and trust to hold. But here’s the thing about belief: it’s a gift, not a guarantee. Nate begins to resent Ted. The same encouragement that built him up starts to feel suffocating. He mistakes Ted’s kindness for a lack of strength and leaves to work for Ted’s enemy.

Ted’s response? He doesn’t lash out. He doesn’t retaliate. He lets Nate go and keeps believing, quietly holding onto the hope that one day Nate might come back—not just to the team, but to himself. That’s who Ted is. He creates the space for people to rise, even if it means letting them walk away.

Ted’s belief isn’t limited to Nate. Rebecca, the team’s owner, starts out as someone you’d expect to work for Tony Soprano, not Ted Lasso. She’s cold, calculated, and laser-focused on destroying her ex-husband by ruining the team. Ted could have met her bitterness with defensiveness, but instead, he chips away at her armor with small, intentional acts of kindness: biscuits made just for her and daily comments that speak to who he believes she could be.

And it works. Slowly, Rebecca transforms—not because Ted forced her to, but because he created an environment where she felt safe enough to grow. That’s the heart of Ted’s leadership. He gives people the tools and trust to become their best selves, but he doesn’t demand it. He knows that transformation takes time, mistakes, and sometimes, leaving the door open long after someone has walked away.

But let’s be honest: Ted’s leadership isn’t flawless. Nate’s betrayal shows the limits of belief. Trusting people doesn’t mean they’ll always live up to your expectations, and leading with optimism doesn’t guarantee the outcome you want. Still, Ted’s approach is rooted in something deeper than success. It’s about the process—about who people become when they’re given room to fail, learn, and rise again.

The Lesson: Ted Lasso teaches us that leadership is about more than results. It’s about building people up, giving them space to grow, and trusting them enough to let them stumble along the way. And while it won’t always work out the way you hope, the legacy of trust, growth, and belief you leave behind will outlive any trophy or title.

Ted’s panic attacks hit close to home for me. His relentless optimism, his belief that he had to keep it all together for everyone else, and his avoidance of his own pain—these are all things I saw in myself. Watching Ted open up to Dr. Sharon, allowing himself to confront his struggles instead of burying them, was a turning point in the show and a lesson for me personally. Leadership isn’t about pretending to have it all figured out. Sometimes, the most courageous thing you can do is admit that you need help.

So here’s the question: Who’s been your Ted Lasso? And who are you leading right now, not with control, but with belief?

The Contrast

Both Tony and Ted struggle with panic attacks and seek help from mental health professionals, but their journeys couldn’t be more different. Tony uses therapy to protect his power. Ted uses it to grow. Tony’s refusal to address his underlying issues leads to his downfall. Ted’s willingness to confront his pain makes him a better leader and, ultimately, a better person.

This is where the lesson is clear: leadership isn’t about control or even just results—it’s about alignment. It’s about listening to yourself, doing the hard work of self-reflection, and creating a culture of trust, growth, and honesty.

Tony Soprano’s leadership ends with him dead—isolated and betrayed, a victim of his own fear-based system. Ted Lasso’s leadership ends with him alive and whole, walking away on his own terms, having left something better than he found it.

Both leaders leave a legacy, but only one leaves a culture of growth, trust, and commitment. Ted shows us that the real mark of leadership isn’t what you demand from people—it’s what you inspire in them. And sometimes, that means having the courage to let them make mistakes, walk away, and come back stronger—or not at all.

So here’s the question: Are you leading in a way that builds something lasting, or are you just holding on until the whole thing falls apart?

xo,

Brittany