I recently re-watched Ted Lasso, and as I took in the final episode, I was reminded quite forcibly of The Queen’s Gambit. The question was, why? I quickly cued up The Queen’s Gambit, and sure enough, my memory held true: both shows employ what I like to call — what I am going to call, starting here, with this essay –– the T.H. White Stratagem.

If I may explain. The T.H. White Stratagem (a clear misnomer, since to my knowledge he deployed it only once) stems from the climax of The Sword in the Stone, book one of The Once and Future King. If you haven’t read this wonderful masterwork, please skip the remainder of this essay, and come back later. For those that have read TOFK, recall that in London, at the great tournament, (Sir) Kay dispatches the Wart to run back and get his sword, which Kay has foolishly left back at the hostel.

Off trots the Wart, but in an echo of the New Testament, he finds, so to speak, no room at the inn: the door is locked. Desperate for a sword, any sword, the Wart discovers one in a chapel, with various banners arrayed on the high walls above. The sword, of course, is the sword, the Sword in the Stone (it’s also driven through an anvil, which never gets talked about), but the Wart doesn’t realize its importance. He just knows he needs to procure a sword, so he does his best to pull the blade free.

He fails.

But then, the various creatures depicted on the banners ringing the room animate and begin proffering essential advice. Each is a representation of one of the many mentors the Wart met while growing up, each served up by Merlin with the goal of providing the Wart with the best possible education, that being the wisdom of the animal kingdom.

As the Wart keeps tugging, all his old friends summate their teachings, reminding the Wart of what he already knows: to use his back, and his brain, and to never give up. And with this chorus of boon companions cheering him on, from pike to badger and back again, the Wart at last succeeds; he yanks the sword free, and in so doing, becomes who he was always meant to be: Arthur Rex, ruler of Britain, the Once and Future King.

It’s an astonishing sequence. The first time I read it, I felt as if I’d been plugged into to an electric outlet; my hair all but stood on end. To have all those animals reappear, and so magically, so unexpectedly, and each of them standing ready to assist? Overwhelming. It was then and remains today an ecstatic piece of writing.

No surprise, then, that the formula of disparate friends who fall out of the narrative only to return to offer crucial support at a key moment has been absorbed by others, and put to good use.

In Ted Lasso, as Ted tries to close out his final match with a win, the show surrounds him with fans, from the pub faithful to the team’s former sports psychologist and all the way across the ocean to his ex, and his young son. The message is clear: Ted Lasso can’t win on his own. No one can. We get by with a little help from our friends.

The Queen’s Gambit concludes with Beth Harmon at a chess tournament behind the Iron Curtain, in Moscow, but as with Coach Lasso and the unassuming Wart, she needs help from afar, and her friends (dare I say frenemies) rise to the challenge, coaching her through a rough patch over the telephone and, in one case, showing up in person (surprise!) to lend an ear.

A final example jumps to mind, from Star Trek: the Next Generation, and what many believe to be the show’s best episode, “The Inner Light.” Captain Picard winds up living an entire second life on a planet whose civilization has long since been doomed to extinction, and as his “story” there concludes, the deceased family and friends that he’s made along the way reappear for an emotional, benedictory send-off. As in TOFK, the hero can only succeed when surrounded by the support of steadfast mentors.

In thinking about the T.H. White Stratagem, it occurs to me that it functions as something like the inverse of the “assemble your team” plots exemplified by The Seven Samurai (or, if you prefer westerns, The Magnificent Seven). In these story-lines, the gathering-up of guides and fellow travelers dominates the proceedings, until by the end, the company splinters apart.

Unlike the White Stratagem, there is no culminating moment in which all that latent support coalesces around a single focal point, the all-important hero. Instead, the team works together toward a common rather than an individual end. But, both schemes certainly involve the mustering of allies, and are therefore inherently related.

What I have not been able to bring to mind are other novels that either lean on or pre-date The Once and Future King, and also employ the T.H. White Stratagem. As a narrative device, it strikes me as so successful that it would be frankly incredible if it had not been used over and over –– and yet, nothing jumps to mind, not even The Book of Merlyn, since in that extraordinary coda to TOFK, the animal chorus is present throughout.

Perhaps you, Gentle Reader, can fill in some blanks and suggest examples?

Onward.

---

Mark Rigney is a writer and long-time Black Gate blogger. His work on this site includes original fiction and perennially popular posts like “Adventures in Spellcraft: Rope Trick.” His new novel, Vinyl Wonderland, dropped on June 25th, 2024. Reviewer Rich Horton said of Vinyl Wonderland, “I was brought to tears, tears I trusted. A lovely work.” His favorite review quote so far comes from Instagram: “Holy crap on a cracker, it’s so good.” A preview post can be found HERE, while his website lives over THERE.