List Updated: 9/20/2024
“The best stories are about people; they reveal our hearts and souls, even when we don’t expect them to.”
Neil Gaiman
TV characters are a bit like old friends. You don’t always think about them, but when they pop back into your life—usually via a streaming service binge—they have this strange ability to make you feel like you’re right where you left off. Maybe that’s the magic of TV—or maybe we’ve just spent so much time with these fictional people that they’ve become an inseparable part of our own stories.
It’s strange how often the most profound moments aren’t planned—they happen in front of the TV, when a character delivers a line that hits closer to home than you expected. These characters, for all their scripted quirks and staged drama, somehow feel real.
The truth is, TV characters matter. They sneak into our lives in the quiet, everyday moments, showing up when we’re tired or distracted or just in need of a laugh. They help us remember what’s important, all while delivering their lines with impeccable timing. They’re the ones who stick with you, not because they have to, but because they’ve earned their place in your world.
So, here are the TV characters that have earned their place in mine (in alphabetical order). They’re not just icons on a screen—they’re companions on the long, winding journey of life, the ones who made me laugh, think, and maybe even feel a little bit better about everything.
Data, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Data wasn’t just another character in Star Trek: The Next Generation—he was like your overly analytical, well-meaning friend who constantly asked what this “humor” thing was all about. As an android, Data’s charm wasn’t in his perfect logic or his encyclopedic knowledge of the universe, but in his relentless pursuit to figure out the human condition, one awkward social interaction at a time. He approached life with the curiosity of a toddler and the reasoning skills of a Nobel laureate, which often resulted in moments of deadpan brilliance.
For someone with no emotions, Data made you feel everything. His quest to understand what made people tick was like watching someone try to build a sandcastle in a windstorm—futile, but you couldn’t help but root for him. Whether he was attempting to master the art of small talk or stumbling through the concept of humor (with varying degrees of success), Data’s pursuit of humanity made him deeply relatable, in ways no one expected an emotionless android to be. His greatest strength wasn’t in his processing power, but in his desire to belong—to feel the things he couldn’t quite comprehend.
But Data wasn’t just about existential questions and awkward pauses. There was a quiet depth to him, a sincerity that came through in moments when he didn’t quite grasp the gravity of a situation—but somehow managed to reflect it back to us in ways we hadn’t considered. He could calculate warp theory one second and ask why people cry the next, both equally important in his eyes. And in that innocence, Data gave us a perspective on what it means to be human, through the eyes of someone who couldn’t be—but desperately wanted to.
Data may have been an android, but his story was all about being human. He reminded us that life is less about having all the answers and more about being curious enough to keep asking the questions.
David Rose, Schitt’s Creek
David Rose didn’t just survive in Schitt’s Creek—he thrived, though not without an abundance of eye rolls, perfectly timed sighs, and an ever-expanding wardrobe to match his personality.
David arrived in that small, podunk town as a fish hopelessly out of water, a man who was as allergic to genuine human connection as he was to the idea of dressing down. But over time, the sarcastic, neurotic, utterly dramatic David transformed into someone deeply relatable—a reminder that even in life’s most ridiculous circumstances, growth is possible.
David’s evolution wasn’t just about adjusting to small-town life; it was about learning to love—himself, others, and, most surprisingly, the town he never planned to call home. Beneath all the sass and one-liners was someone trying to figure out who he really was.
His relationship with Patrick became the heart of the show, a love story so sweet and so sincere that it caught everyone (including David) by surprise. It showed us that sometimes, you find love when you stop trying so hard to prove who you think you’re supposed to be.
Of course, through it all, David never lost his wit. His snarky commentary and exaggerated reactions were pure gold, but what made him so unforgettable was how his vulnerability sneaked up on you. For someone who wore emotional armor in the form of avant-garde sweaters, David Rose let his guard down in ways that made you root for him, flaws and all.
He may have started out as the most unlikely person to make it in Schitt’s Creek, but by the end, you couldn’t imagine the town without him.
Eric Taylor, Friday Night Lights
Coach Eric Taylor wasn’t just a coach; he was the kind of person you wished had been in your life at a critical moment—steady, present, and deeply invested in your future. He cared, not just about the score at the end of the game, but about who his players would become long after the Friday night lights dimmed.
Eric Taylor saw the potential in people, even when they couldn’t see it themselves. In a town where football was everything, he somehow managed to make sure his players knew that life was bigger than the game.
Coach Taylor wasn’t the guy who settled for a half-hearted effort or said, “good enough.” He pushed his players, not just because he wanted to win a game, but because he wanted them to win at life. He knew that making the right decisions in the heat of a game could translate to making the right decisions when it really counted—when no one was watching, when life got tough. And that’s why his players loved him, even when they didn’t always like him.
Off the field, Eric Taylor was more than a coach—he was a devoted husband, a dad who somehow managed to balance the frenzy of small-town football fame with the quiet, mundane realities of family life. The guy would lead a team into battle under the Friday night lights and then come home to sit at the dinner table like any other dad.
And let’s be honest, his relationship with Tami was nothing short of legendary—a partnership built on eye rolls, mutual admiration, and the kind of love that’s equal parts advice and sarcasm. They were the real power couple, the kind that made you realize a marriage can survive anything—even teenage quarterbacks and booster clubs.
And then there’s his signature line: “Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.” It wasn’t just a pep talk—it was a mantra, a life lesson disguised as a motivational catchphrase. Coach Taylor wasn’t just getting his players ready for the next game; he was preparing them for every game life would throw at them.
Coach Taylor, with all his wisdom and weariness, will always be more than a TV character—he’ll be a life coach, and that’s why he’s earned his place in my personal hall of fame.
Jack Arnold, The Wonder Years
Jack Arnold (The Wonder Years): Jack Arnold was the kind of dad who didn’t need to say much to make his point. He had a presence—one of those strong, silent types who could communicate everything you needed to know with just a look. Life wasn’t easy for Jack. He carried the weight of his family, his work, and the times they lived in on his shoulders. It’s easy to think of him as the gruff, no-nonsense father figure, but there was always more to Jack than met the eye.
What made Jack so unforgettable wasn’t just his tough exterior—it was the vulnerability that lay just beneath it. He was a man of his generation, working long hours to provide, rarely showing emotion, but you knew, deep down, that every decision he made was out of love for his family. Jack wasn’t one for big speeches or heart-to-hearts, but when he did open up, those moments carried a weight that hit you right in the chest.
The thing about Jack Arnold was that he represented a kind of strength that wasn’t flashy or loud. It was the quiet, steady kind—the kind that showed up day after day, paycheck after paycheck, doing what needed to be done. He was a man of few words, but when it came to protecting and providing for his family, he spoke volumes through his actions. And as Kevin grew older, you could see Jack’s influence in him—in his resilience, his work ethic, and his understanding of what it means to care for the people you love.
Jack Arnold may not have been the warmest or most expressive dad on TV, but he was one of the most real. He showed us that love isn’t always soft and sweet—it’s sometimes hard, sometimes unspoken, but always there when it counts.
Jaime Lannister, Game of Thrones
Jaime Lannister was the kind of character you were supposed to hate, and at first, I did—like, really hated him. He was arrogant, reckless, and had a knack for making morally questionable decisions with a smug smile that made you want to throw something at the screen. But Game of Thrones did what it does best: it made you reconsider everything you thought you knew about a character. Jaime went from the Kingslayer to one of the most complicated, layered figures in Westeros, and by the end of it all, I was rooting for him in ways I never expected.
Jaime’s journey wasn’t just a redemption arc—it was a study in how people are never as simple as their worst moments. Here was a guy who pushed a child out of a window in the very first episode, and somehow, the show convinced us to see beyond that. Through his growing relationship with Brienne, we saw a version of Jaime that wasn’t all about protecting the family name or lusting for power. There was honor there, buried deep beneath layers of Lannister pride and self-loathing. And as Jaime lost more—his hand, his reputation, the very identity he’d built his life around—he became more human. Flawed, broken, and strangely heroic in ways that didn’t always make sense.
It was his vulnerability that drew me in. Watching Jaime wrestle with the consequences of his past actions, his complicated love for his sister, and the realization that he wasn’t the golden boy he once thought he was, made him one of the most fascinating characters in the entire series. He wasn’t the villain we all expected him to be; he was a man trying to reconcile who he was with who he wanted to be. And it was that struggle—more than his flashy swordsmanship or Lannister name—that made him so compelling.
Jaime Lannister wasn’t just a character on Game of Thrones—he was proof that even the most tarnished knights could still seek redemption. Whether or not he found it, well, that’s up for debate. But in the end, Jaime became someone worth watching, someone worth understanding, and for that, I’ll always have a soft spot for the Kingslayer.
Jamie Tartt, Ted Lasso
If you had asked me in season one whether Jamie Tartt would make this list, I would’ve laughed you out of the room. But that’s the thing about Jamie—his journey from insufferable prima donna to someone genuinely worth rooting for was one of the most surprising (and satisfying) transformations on Ted Lasso.
Jamie started as the guy you loved to hate—the self-absorbed footballer who couldn’t see past his own reflection long enough to realize the damage he was doing to the people around him. But somewhere along the way, Jamie Tartt became human.
And not just any kind of human—he became the kind of person who struggles, fails, and finally starts to get it. At first glance, Jamie was all flash: the hair, the over-the-top goal celebrations, the reality TV stardom. He had “talented jerk” down to an art form. But then came Ted, and through a series of hard lessons (and a few well-timed hugs), Jamie began to figure out that life was about more than just scoring goals and being adored by the masses. The arrogant smirk gave way to vulnerability, and suddenly, we were watching someone grow up right in front of us.
What made Jamie’s arc so compelling was that it wasn’t easy. He didn’t wake up one day and decide to be a better person—he fought it every step of the way. And that’s what made his moments of growth feel so earned. Whether it was his awkward attempts at reconnecting with his teammates or the way he opened up about his complicated relationship with his father, Jamie’s evolution was messy, real, and strangely heartwarming.
Jamie Tartt may have started as a football star who didn’t care about anything but himself, but by the end, he was more than just a player—he was a person trying to figure out how to be better. And in the process, he became one of the show’s most unforgettable characters.
JD and Turk, Scrubs
There are TV friendships, and then there’s JD and Turk. Their relationship wasn’t just a bromance—it was the purest, most joyful expression of friendship ever to grace a hospital hallway. In a world full of medical drama and emotional turmoil, JD and Turk’s bond was a reminder that, no matter how chaotic things got, you could always count on your best friend to be right there with you, whether it was for a heart-to-heart talk or a spontaneous choreographed dance number. And let’s be honest—Turk was probably the only person who could truly decode JD’s endless internal monologues.
JD and Turk were the kind of friends who had their own language, complete with inside jokes, secret handshakes, and more “guy love” than most romantic comedies could ever hope to capture. Their friendship wasn’t just a subplot—it was the emotional core of the show.
And while Turk was the cooler, more grounded half of the duo, JD was the dreamer, forever lost in his head. Together, they balanced each other out in a way that was both hilarious and, at times, surprisingly touching. It wasn’t just about the pranks, the high-fives, or the fact that they referred to each other as “chocolate bear” and “vanilla bear”—it was about the kind of friendship that made everything else seem bearable.
The magic of JD and Turk’s relationship was how effortlessly they navigated the fine line between absurd humor and genuine emotion. One minute, they’d be geeking out over ridiculous nicknames, and the next, JD would be pouring his heart out about his insecurities, while Turk listened with all the patience and love of a best friend who’s heard it a thousand times before—but doesn’t mind hearing it a thousand times more.
JD and Turk weren’t just sitcom characters—they were the epitome of a friendship that makes life better, even when life is anything but. And in the middle of all the chaos that was Sacred Heart, their friendship was the one thing that made you believe that, no matter what, everything would be okay—because they had each other. And honestly, what more could you ask for?
Jean-Luc Picard, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Captain Jean-Luc Picard was more than just the captain of the USS Enterprise—he was the universe’s greatest diplomat with the patience of a saint and the poise of someone who’s had more than a few Shakespearean monologues tucked into his back pocket. Where others might have blown up an entire star system, Picard would calmly sip his Earl Grey, contemplate the ethics of galactic peace, and somehow convince a hostile alien to reconsider their life choices.
What made Picard legendary wasn’t his tactical prowess or quick reflexes, though he had those too. It was his ability to make us all believe we could be better—wiser, more compassionate, a bit less likely to punch first and ask questions later. He didn’t just steer the Enterprise; he steered you toward the person you hoped you might be one day.
And, let’s face it, no one could deliver “Make it so” with such gravitas that you’d swear the fate of humanity hinged on whether someone pressed a button.
Picard’s moral compass was as sturdy as the Enterprise itself. In a galaxy teetering on chaos, he remained the calm in the storm, the guy who’d talk you through an existential crisis while making sure the ship didn’t fall apart.
And that’s the thing—he wasn’t just a captain. He was your philosopher-king, guiding you through ethical dilemmas and cosmic messes with the wisdom of a man who never met a conundrum he couldn’t outthink.
In the end, Picard didn’t just lead a crew—he inspired us to be a little more thoughtful, a little more patient, and a lot more confident in the power of tea.
Jon Snow, Game of Thrones
Jon Snow wasn’t the most talkative guy in Westeros, but when he did speak, it was usually some variation of, “I don’t want it” or “Winter is coming.” And somehow, even with such a limited script, Jon Snow became one of the most captivating characters in Game of Thrones.
Maybe it was the brooding stare, the heavy sense of duty, or the way he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders like a medieval Atlas. Whatever it was, Jon Snow had a way of making you root for him, even when his decisions made you want to scream at your TV.
Jon wasn’t born into greatness—he was born into the complicated mess of being a Stark in name, but a Snow in status. That tension followed him everywhere, but instead of letting it define him, Jon carved out his own path. He wasn’t fighting for power or glory; he fought because it was the right thing to do. And that’s what made him stand out in a world where everyone else was chasing thrones and titles. Jon never wanted to be king, but when the time came, he rose to the occasion (even if he did it with that signature look of reluctant resignation).
But Jon’s real strength wasn’t in his swordsmanship or his leadership—it was in his unwavering sense of honor. Even in a world where backstabbing was the norm and betrayal came with the territory, Jon stood by his principles. He believed in people, even when they gave him every reason not to. And though that often put him on the losing end of things (including his own death, albeit a temporary one), it’s also what made him so beloved. Jon was the ultimate reluctant hero, the one who fought not for a crown, but for the survival of the people he cared about.
Jon Snow may have known nothing, but he knew how to keep fighting, even when it seemed like all was lost. And in the end, that’s what made him a true king—whether he wanted the title or not.
Kira Nerys, Deep Space Nine
Kira Nerys wasn’t your typical Starfleet officer—mostly because she wasn’t in Starfleet at all, and frankly, she wouldn’t have lasted five minutes under their “rules and regulations” nonsense. As a former Bajoran freedom fighter, Kira had spent her life taking orders from exactly no one, and if you expected her to play nice or smile for the sake of diplomacy, you were in for a very long day. Kira was tough, sure, but she wore that toughness like armor, and underneath it all was someone who had survived more battles—literal and emotional—than most of us could even imagine.
The brilliance of Kira wasn’t just in her steely resolve or her knack for getting things done (often through sheer willpower). It was in how she managed to show vulnerability without ever losing an ounce of that fierceness. Kira carried the scars of her past with her—years of fighting in the Bajoran Resistance, the loss of friends, the trauma of occupation. And yet, somehow, she turned all that pain into strength. She wasn’t just fighting for her people; she was fighting to make sure no one ever told her who she could or couldn’t be again.
But here’s the thing about Kira: She wasn’t just a battle-hardened soldier. She was also a friend, a leader, and—surprise—a person with a heart big enough to love, even when she didn’t want to. Her relationship with Odo showed us that even the toughest ex-resistance fighters could fall in love with shape-shifting security officers. And when Kira let her guard down, it wasn’t weakness—it was a reminder that strength and softness aren’t opposites.
In a galaxy full of larger-than-life personalities, Kira stood her ground, never backing down, never apologizing for who she was. She taught us that sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is keep fighting, not just for what’s right, but for who you are.
Leslie Knope, Parks and Recreation
Leslie Knope is the friend we all wish we had—and, frankly, the one we probably don’t deserve. Her boundless optimism, unshakable belief in the power of government (especially the Parks Department), and her unrelenting enthusiasm for waffles make her one of the most delightful characters to ever grace our screens. In a world that often feels like it’s running on fumes, Leslie is a perpetual motion machine of public service, never slowing, never giving up.
But what really sets Leslie apart is her loyalty. If you’re lucky enough to be her friend, you’ve essentially won the friendship lottery. Leslie Knope will go to the ends of the earth for you—and she’ll probably make you a color-coded binder along the way. She’s the kind of friend who celebrates your victories like they’re her own and refuses to let you wallow in your failures for more than five seconds. Whether she’s championing your career, showering you with compliments on Galentine’s Day, or organizing a ridiculous scheme to cheer you up, Leslie is always in your corner.
Her loyalty isn’t just surface-level—it’s the bedrock of who she is. Leslie will fight tooth and nail for her friends, whether it’s getting Ron to show emotion (an impossible task) or making sure Ann knows she’s beautiful, brilliant, and a perfect human being. Her friendships aren’t just side notes in her story; they’re the heart of it. And through all the chaos of Pawnee’s small-town politics, her friends are the reason she keeps going, keeps fighting, and never gives up.
At the end of the day, Leslie Knope is all heart, all hustle, and all hope. And in the wild world of Pawnee, she’s the glue that holds it all together—one meticulously planned waffle breakfast at a time.
Mister Rogers, Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood
Fred Rogers wasn’t just a TV personality—he was a warm, steady presence that somehow made the world feel a little less chaotic. While most children’s shows leaned on flashy animations and loud, hyperactive characters, Mister Rogers quietly invited us into his neighborhood with a soft voice, a cardigan, and a sense of calm that felt like a hug from your favorite relative. He didn’t just entertain; he listened, he empathized, and he made us feel seen in a way that was rare, even for adults.
What made Mister Rogers extraordinary was how he turned the simplest of moments into profound life lessons. He could talk about feelings, loss, or even something as mundane as tying your shoes, and it would land like a revelation. He wasn’t afraid to tackle the big stuff—death, divorce, fear—and he did it all with an unwavering belief in the goodness of people. Mister Rogers didn’t just tell us we were special—he made us believe it, one softly spoken word at a time.
But for all his wisdom, Mister Rogers never felt unreachable. He was the kind of person who made you feel like he was talking directly to you, not an audience of millions. His genuine kindness and empathy transcended the screen, making every interaction feel personal. There was no pretense, no ego—just a man who believed in treating everyone, from children to grown-ups, with the same level of respect and care.
Mister Rogers didn’t need special effects or wild antics to leave an impact. He did it through the power of human connection—something that, even in today’s fast-paced world, still feels revolutionary.
Dr. Perry Cox, Scrubs
Dr. Perry Cox was the human embodiment of tough love, wrapped in sarcasm and delivered with the speed of a freight train. If you were lucky enough to be on the receiving end of one of his rants, you’d probably spend the next few hours piecing your self-worth back together.
But here’s the thing—beneath the snark, the endless nicknames, and the legendary monologues was a man who cared more than he would ever admit. And that’s why, somehow, despite his best efforts, you couldn’t help but root for him.
Dr. Cox didn’t believe in hand-holding or pep talks—his version of mentoring was more like pushing you off a cliff and waiting to see if you’d figure out how to fly before hitting the ground. It wasn’t gentle, and it wasn’t kind, but it was real. He saw the messiness of medicine, the heartbreak of losing patients, and the grind of the job. And in his own, painfully blunt way, he was preparing everyone around him for the reality that medicine wasn’t just about saving lives—it was about surviving the job itself.
But for all his bluster and gruffness, Cox had moments that were so raw, they stopped you in your tracks. Whether he was grappling with his own mistakes or facing the emotional toll of the work, those brief glimpses behind the wall he’d so carefully constructed made him feel like the most human character on the show. And that’s the genius of Dr. Cox—he could tear you apart with words one minute and then quietly remind you, in his own tortured way, that he actually cared. Deeply.
Dr. Cox wasn’t in the business of being liked, and he sure wasn’t in the business of making you feel good about yourself. But in his own chaotic, twisted way, he was teaching us all a lesson: that sometimes, the hardest thing isn’t the job—it’s letting your guard down enough to care. And that’s what made him unforgettable.
Raymond Holt, Brooklyn Nine-Nine
Captain Raymond Holt is an enigma wrapped in stoicism, wrapped in a perfectly pressed uniform. On the surface, Holt is the epitome of seriousness—a man who can deliver a line so deadpan that you’re not sure if he’s joking or just incredibly disappointed in you. But peel back the layers of his stiff, rule-abiding exterior, and you find a man who’s quietly hilarious, deeply caring, and fiercely loyal to his team.
Holt’s brilliance lies in his unwavering commitment to doing things the right way. In a precinct full of chaos and hijinks, he is the calm center, leading with integrity and a code of ethics that could probably outlast the universe. And yet, beneath that stoic facade, Holt’s dry humor and perfectly timed one-liners make him one of the funniest characters on television. He doesn’t have to shout or wave his arms to make you laugh—he just raises an eyebrow, and somehow, it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever seen.
But Holt’s real strength is in his quiet support of the people he cares about. He’s a mentor, a father figure, and, despite what he might say, a true friend. He encourages his team not just to be better cops, but to be better people. He’s the kind of leader who will call you out on your nonsense, but then turn around and back you up when it matters most. And while his emotional range might seem limited to “mildly annoyed” and “slightly less annoyed,” the love and respect he has for his team is undeniable.
Raymond Holt isn’t just a captain—he’s a masterclass in restraint, leadership, and the art of perfectly executed sarcasm. And that’s what makes him, in all his robotic, no-nonsense glory, one of the most beloved characters on television.
Ron Swanson, Parks and Recreation
Ron Swanson was the embodiment of stoicism, mustache, and meat—a man who lived by a strict code of self-reliance, woodworking, and a deep distrust of government (ironically, while working in one). If Ron could have his way, he’d spend his days in a cabin deep in the woods, living off the land, with nothing but his tools and an endless supply of bacon to keep him company. And yet, for all his gruffness, Ron Swanson was a character with surprising depth, the kind that sneaks up on you, usually right around the time he hands you a perfectly whittled canoe.
Ron was a man of few words, most of them direct, blunt, and often hilarious. He held strong convictions about the things that mattered most—freedom, breakfast foods, and the sanctity of personal privacy. But beneath his grizzly exterior was a man who, despite himself, cared deeply about his coworkers (though he’d never admit it) and even more about being the kind of person who did what he believed was right. In a world of chaos, Ron was the unmovable rock—the one person you could count on to stay true to himself, no matter how absurd the situation became.
What made Ron truly special wasn’t just his love for Lagavulin or his hatred of government meetings. It was that, despite his best efforts to remain emotionally unavailable, he ended up being the one everyone turned to for advice, guidance, or just a dose of no-nonsense reality. Whether he was helping Leslie navigate the insanity of Pawnee or teaching a young apprentice the finer points of steak grilling, Ron’s wisdom was undeniable—delivered with the straight-faced charm that only he could pull off.
At the end of the day, Ron Swanson wasn’t just a man of few words. He was a man of principle, a steady hand in the chaos of city government, and the kind of friend who’d reluctantly give you the shirt off his back (if he thought you’d earned it). And somehow, that gruff, bacon-loving, no-nonsense man with the heart of gold made Parks and Rec all the richer.
Roy Kent, Ted Lasso
Roy Kent was not the kind of guy you’d expect to be a source of emotional wisdom. He was more of a scowling, grunting, four-letter-word machine with a permanent look of frustration etched onto his face. But that’s the thing about Roy Kent—beneath all that anger and his famously gravelly voice, there was a man who cared more than anyone else on the pitch. He was a walking contradiction, a retired footballer whose tough exterior was matched only by the tenderness he begrudgingly allowed to peek through.
Roy was the kind of guy who’d scream at you for messing up on the field, then quietly take you aside afterward to tell you exactly what you needed to hear. He didn’t suffer fools, but he also didn’t let the people he loved suffer, period. His loyalty was fierce—whether it was to his team, his niece Phoebe, or Keeley, the woman who somehow softened his rough edges without ever trying to change him. And that’s the beauty of Roy Kent. He was never one to sugarcoat things, but he’d walk through fire for you if you needed him.
But let’s not forget his softer side, even if he’d like us to. Roy’s gruff exterior hid a surprisingly emotional man who couldn’t help but care about the people around him. And when he let his guard down—those rare moments when you saw him truly vulnerable—it made everything he did seem all the more real. Roy wasn’t just the guy yelling from the sidelines; he was the heart of the team, the guy who wanted everyone to be better—not just at football, but at life.
Roy reminded us that strength isn’t just about being tough—it’s about knowing when to let your guard down and care, even when it’s the hardest thing to do.
Sam Fox, Better Things
Sam Fox was the kind of character who could be running late, dealing with three simultaneously dramatic daughters, and still find time to mutter something hilarious under her breath. She wasn’t just relatable—she was the embodiment of the messy, exhausting, heartwarming chaos that is modern life.
As a single mom, actress, and reluctant caretaker for her eccentric mother, Sam didn’t glide through her days—she barrelled through them, barely pausing to catch her breath. But the beauty of Sam Fox? She made the madness feel real, and somehow, survivable.
Sam wasn’t interested in pretending everything was fine. She’d scream, roll her eyes, and then somehow, in the next breath, show more tenderness than you’d think possible after a particularly brutal argument with her kids.
And that’s what made her so captivating—she wore the exhaustion of motherhood like a badge of honor but refused to let it define her. Sam was tough, no doubt about it, but she was also fiercely loving, balancing every screaming match with late-night forehead kisses and quiet moments of pure, unscripted love.
What made Sam stand out wasn’t just her ability to juggle a thousand things at once—it was her refusal to apologize for who she was. Whether she was navigating the absurdities of the entertainment industry or trying to find five minutes of peace in her car before picking up the kids, Sam lived on her own terms.
She wasn’t perfect, she wasn’t polished, and she certainly didn’t have all the answers. But she had heart, and humor, and the kind of resilience that made you think, “If Sam can handle it, maybe I can too.”
Watching Sam Fox was like watching someone who had long since given up on perfection and opted for survival, humor, and the occasional glass of wine instead. She reminded us that life is a mess—and that’s okay.
It’s not about getting everything right; it’s about showing up, laughing at the absurdity, and loving the people around you, even when they drive you nuts.
Tami Taylor, Friday Night Lights
Tami Taylor wasn’t just the principal, guidance counselor, and unofficial life coach of Dillon, Texas—she was the heart of Friday Night Lights. She navigated the high-stakes drama of high school football and small-town politics with a level of grace and grit that made you wonder why she wasn’t running for president. Tami was that rare combination of warmth and wisdom, the kind of person who could deliver tough love without ever losing her sense of humor.
Her ability to be a grounded, supportive partner to Coach Taylor while also being an independent, strong-willed woman in her own right made her unforgettable. Whether she was standing up to an angry parent or helping a student through a life crisis, Tami always seemed to know the right thing to say. And when she didn’t, she wasn’t afraid to admit it—which made her all the more real.
Tami had moments of doubt and flashes of frustration. But she wasn’t pretending to have it all together; she was figuring it out as she went, and there was something endlessly reassuring in that. Tami’s strength didn’t come from being flawless; it came from being real, from showing up every day for her family, her students, and, yes, even for herself.
She was the type of person who made you believe you could find the balance between passion and practicality, that you could fiercely love your family while still having dreams of your own. Tami didn’t have all the answers, but she had the important ones—the ones that mattered when life got messy. And in Dillon, life always got messy. Yet through it all, she never wavered in her determination to leave things—and people—better than she found them.
Ted Lasso, Ted Lasso
Ted Lasso is the kind of person you never think you’ll meet in real life—endlessly optimistic, genuinely kind, and unflinchingly hopeful, even when the world around him seems intent on proving him wrong. He’s the coach who doesn’t know a thing about soccer (sorry, football), but knows more about people than just about anyone else. Ted’s superpower isn’t tactical genius; it’s his ability to see the good in everyone—even when they can’t see it themselves.
At first glance, Ted’s relentless positivity feels almost absurd, like no one could possibly be this cheerful. But as you get to know him, you realize that his optimism is a choice, a deliberate act of courage in the face of life’s hardships. It’s what makes him not just lovable, but inspiring. Ted isn’t just coaching his team to win games—he’s coaching them to believe in themselves, to support one another, and to understand that success is about more than the score at the end of the match.
And then there’s the way he handles people—with warmth, patience, and the kind of empathy that’s become increasingly rare. Ted Lasso isn’t the type to raise his voice or berate someone for messing up (well, except for that one time). Instead, he offers a kind word, a folksy analogy, or a quick-witted joke, disarming even the most hardened skeptics. He’s the embodiment of what it means to lead with heart, to build a team not out of fear, but out of love and trust.
Ted Lasso doesn’t just make you want to be a better player—he makes you want to be a better person. And in a world that can sometimes feel harsh and cynical, that kind of unrelenting hope is exactly what we all need.
Tyrion Lannister, Game of Thrones
Tyrion Lannister wasn’t just the cleverest man in Westeros—he was the only one who seemed to realize how ridiculous everything around him truly was. Born into a world of power, deceit, and ruthless ambition, Tyrion managed to navigate it all with wit sharper than any sword and a heart far bigger than he’d ever let on. He wasn’t the strongest, the tallest, or the most likely to win a fight, but he was always the smartest person in the room, and he knew it.
What makes Tyrion so compelling isn’t just his ability to talk his way out of any situation (though, let’s be honest, watching him verbally dismantle his enemies was half the fun). It’s that, despite the endless betrayals and backstabbings, he still believed in doing what was right—at least, most of the time. Tyrion’s humanity was his greatest strength and his greatest weakness. He was a deeply flawed man who drank too much, trusted the wrong people, and made more than his share of mistakes. But through it all, he never lost his ability to see the bigger picture, to find humor in even the darkest moments.
And let’s not forget, for a Lannister, Tyrion had a remarkable ability to care—about his friends, his lovers, even his enemies at times. Beneath the sarcasm and the self-deprecation was a man who just wanted to be seen for who he really was, not what the world expected him to be. Tyrion may have played the game better than most, but in the end, he never forgot that he was, at heart, a good person trying to survive in a world that seemed designed to destroy him.
Tyrion didn’t just survive—he thrived. And he did it with a raised goblet, a knowing smirk, and more than a few well-timed quips that made us all wish we could be half as clever as he was.
