#1 ·
I was scrolling through some sports news this morning and it got me thinking about the weird direction professional leagues seem to be heading in lately. It feels like we are moving away from a world where you follow a team because of their grit, their local connection, or their tactical brilliance, and moving into an era where a team is essentially just a vehicle for a single recognizable face.
Don't get me wrong, I get the business side of it. I’m not a fool; I know that if you’re an expansion franchise or a league trying to plant a flag in a new territory, you need eyeballs. You need people who wouldn't normally tune in to a Tuesday night match to suddenly care because someone they recognize from a global stage is wearing the colors. It’s a shortcut to relevance. But I can't help but feel a sense of cynicism whenever I see these massive "marquee" moves being leveraged to build a foundation.
It feels like a bit of a cheat code, doesn't it?
There’s this fundamental tension between "building a club" and "buying a brand." When a club is built from the ground up, there’s usually this slow, organic process of developing a culture. You scout talent, you struggle through the lower tiers, you find your identity, and eventually, the fans bond with the badge. But when you lead with a superstar—someone whose entire value is tied to their individual celebrity rather than the collective strength of the squad—you’re essentially building a house on sand. What happens when that one person retires? What happens when the hype cycle moves on to the next big name? If the fans only showed up for the individual, the club is essentially dead the moment that person hangs up their boots.
I remember watching local teams back in the day. You didn't care if the striker was a household name; you cared that he played with the same heart as the guy in the stands. There was a sense of shared struggle. Now, it feels like every league, from the top flights down to the secondary divisions, is obsessed with this "event-based" model of engagement. It turns a sport into a series of spectacles rather than a continuous narrative.
I worry that this trend is going to dilute the quality of the actual competition. If the strategy for growth is just "find a legend and put them in a jersey," then the actual development of domestic talent or the tactical evolution of the game takes a backseat. We end up with these lopsided matchups where the "star" is essentially a walking advertisement, and the actual substance of the match feels secondary to the marketing opportunity. It starts to feel less like a sport and more like a touring circus.
I also think it changes the psychology of the fans. It creates a fickle kind of loyalty. It’s easy to be a fan of a person, but it’s much harder—and much more rewarding—to be a fan of an institution. If we keep incentivizing teams to chase the quick fix of celebrity, we might find ourselves in a future where "teams" are just temporary shells for whoever happens to be trending on social media that month.
I’m curious to hear what the rest of you think. Do you think these big-name signings are a necessary evil to grow the sport in new markets, or do you think it’s a hollow way to build a fanbase that ultimately hurts the integrity of the game? Is there a way to balance commercial growth with actual club building, or are they fundamentally at odds?
Don't get me wrong, I get the business side of it. I’m not a fool; I know that if you’re an expansion franchise or a league trying to plant a flag in a new territory, you need eyeballs. You need people who wouldn't normally tune in to a Tuesday night match to suddenly care because someone they recognize from a global stage is wearing the colors. It’s a shortcut to relevance. But I can't help but feel a sense of cynicism whenever I see these massive "marquee" moves being leveraged to build a foundation.
It feels like a bit of a cheat code, doesn't it?
There’s this fundamental tension between "building a club" and "buying a brand." When a club is built from the ground up, there’s usually this slow, organic process of developing a culture. You scout talent, you struggle through the lower tiers, you find your identity, and eventually, the fans bond with the badge. But when you lead with a superstar—someone whose entire value is tied to their individual celebrity rather than the collective strength of the squad—you’re essentially building a house on sand. What happens when that one person retires? What happens when the hype cycle moves on to the next big name? If the fans only showed up for the individual, the club is essentially dead the moment that person hangs up their boots.
I remember watching local teams back in the day. You didn't care if the striker was a household name; you cared that he played with the same heart as the guy in the stands. There was a sense of shared struggle. Now, it feels like every league, from the top flights down to the secondary divisions, is obsessed with this "event-based" model of engagement. It turns a sport into a series of spectacles rather than a continuous narrative.
I worry that this trend is going to dilute the quality of the actual competition. If the strategy for growth is just "find a legend and put them in a jersey," then the actual development of domestic talent or the tactical evolution of the game takes a backseat. We end up with these lopsided matchups where the "star" is essentially a walking advertisement, and the actual substance of the match feels secondary to the marketing opportunity. It starts to feel less like a sport and more like a touring circus.
I also think it changes the psychology of the fans. It creates a fickle kind of loyalty. It’s easy to be a fan of a person, but it’s much harder—and much more rewarding—to be a fan of an institution. If we keep incentivizing teams to chase the quick fix of celebrity, we might find ourselves in a future where "teams" are just temporary shells for whoever happens to be trending on social media that month.
I’m curious to hear what the rest of you think. Do you think these big-name signings are a necessary evil to grow the sport in new markets, or do you think it’s a hollow way to build a fanbase that ultimately hurts the integrity of the game? Is there a way to balance commercial growth with actual club building, or are they fundamentally at odds?