Contains spoilers through Season 4, Episode 9 of Ted Lasso.

Mae Green’s death leaves a question that goes beyond the sadness of losing a beloved character: what will it be like to return to the Crown & Anchor without finding her there? Over four seasons, Ted Lasso accustomed us to Annette Badland’s presence behind that bar, following the conversations, stepping in whenever she thought necessary and keeping Richmond alive even when no one was on the pitch. Her farewell changes the meaning of a place we learned to recognize as home. For Ted, that change is even more intimate, because Mae was part of how London became more than simply the city where he worked.

It is lovely to revisit how their relationship began. Ted was still learning the language of that world, including the insults directed at him. Mae explained the meaning of “wanker” with a gesture, in a scene where cultural differences became a source of humour without getting in the way of connection. She did not offer a sugary welcome, nor did she need to be won over by every optimistic remark from the American. She had opinions, impatience and a passion for the club that did not depend on him. That gave value to the bond they would build: Ted found someone who could like him and still disagree with him.

At the end of the first season, as discouragement surrounds Richmond, Mae reminds him that it is the hope that kills you. The line contrasts with everything Ted tries to teach, but it comes from someone who knows the pain of supporting a team. Her resistance to the promise of happiness has a history. Their connection grows stronger because neither needs to erase the other completely: he offers a way to believe; she knows the price of believing time and again and being disappointed. The pub makes room for that conversation as much as it does for a match.

It is also where the darts game against Rupert takes place, one of the moments that best defines Ted. Mae is there in the space where he confronts the former owner’s arrogance and protects Rebecca from humiliation. The Crown & Anchor allows the characters to reveal themselves beyond their job titles: the club’s owner can be a wounded woman, the seemingly naïve coach can surprise everyone, the man who believes he is in control can lose. Mae watches that world with the authority of someone who knows that prestige does not determine a person’s worth.

One of her most important interventions, however, comes when Ted’s mother visits in Season 3’s “Mom City”. Near the pinball machine, Mae recites Philip Larkin’s This Be the Verse, a poem about the wounds parents pass on to their children while carrying those they inherited themselves. It is a choice that reaches the discomfort beneath Ted’s cordiality with Dottie. Mae notices something he still struggles to put into words and finds a way to bring him closer to that truth.

The scene helps explain why losing her cuts so deeply. Ted is usually the person who notices others, finds something to say, offers company and tries to make suffering bearable. With Mae, he could also be seen. She did not have to accept his friendliness as proof that everything was fine. Her attention reached beyond his pleasant manner to someone who, despite caring for so many people, still needed care himself.

In Season 4, that closeness becomes an even greater part of everyday life. Ted lives in the flat above the pub, and Mae becomes part of Henry’s daily life too. The loss is no longer simply the absence of a friend in a place he visits. It changes the surroundings father and son come home to. Even if the address remains the same, living there will feel different: the sound of conversations, the walk downstairs to the pub, the expectation of finding her, small habits that will now have to coexist with her absence.

That does not mean Ted will have to move. The series has not yet explained what will happen to the property or who will take responsibility for the Crown & Anchor. But there is an emotional question as important as the practical one: will that home still feel the same to him? And how much of his connection to London rested on the certainty that he could find Mae there? A place becomes ours partly through the people who recognize us when we arrive. Losing them can make us feel like strangers again, even on a street we know by heart.

The pub’s future remains uncertain too. Who will take over behind the bar, preserve its traditions and bring together Baz, Jeremy, Paul and the other supporters? The Crown & Anchor may keep operating, but keeping its doors open is not enough to reproduce what Mae did. She helped turn a business into a community. The series will have to confront that difference, and so will we: someone may take her place at work without taking the place she held in everyone’s lives.

There is, however, another part of her story that prevents us from treating her merely as a comforting presence. Mae was an AFC Richmond shareholder. Her commitment to the club also had a tangible expression, precisely when the buying of supporters’ shares became a threat to Rebecca’s control. Her love for the team was not confined to the pub’s television or cheering in the stands; she owned a part of it.

It was also Mae who helped guide Higgins’s investigation with the advice to “follow the anger”. The cellar scene played with the informant from All the President’s Men, but her observation mattered: to understand an attempt to take over Richmond, they needed to consider the resentment behind the money. Higgins and Rebecca focused their suspicions on Rupert, while the audience began to see Zelda. Mae did not solve the mystery, but she helped frame the question.

That is why her shares deserve attention now. Could they help save Rebecca? The theory is plausible, although the episode has not yet revealed who will inherit them or how much weight they will carry in the dispute. We do not know whether she made provisions for Ted, for people connected to the club or for someone who would keep that stake away from Zelda. Any definitive answer would anticipate a finale we have not yet seen. But the script has left a path for Mae’s influence to keep having consequences.

It would be a moving way to extend her presence: the woman who always brought supporters together could help keep Richmond in the hands of people who care about it. That would give the shares a meaning beyond a convenient solution to the plot. A bond built over a lifetime could continue protecting a community after death. It remains a possibility, but one rooted in what Mae already did, rather than requiring the show to invent a reason for her to matter as it says goodbye.

Her last day brings together these different forms of belonging. By travelling with the Lady Greyhounds and telling them that she, too, wanted to play football, Mae comes closer to an opportunity her generation never had. She participates, advises and celebrates. It is painful that the day ends in death, but it would be equally reductive to describe her simply as an older woman who died happy. She still had desires, stories yet to be told and a life that did not seem finished. The joy of the outing does not diminish what was interrupted.

Despite my reservations about this season, Mae remained someone I believed in. Her death touches Ted as a friend, a father, the resident of that flat and an American who found a place in an English community. It may also affect Rebecca in the struggle over the club’s future. The next episode will have to answer some of those questions, but no resolution involving inheritance or ownership will restore the simplest thing: walking into the pub and finding her there. Perhaps her shares will still save Richmond. For Ted, however, part of the London that welcomed him has already changed forever.