“Nature alone is antique; and the oldest art, a mushroom”*…
Every August, Telluride hosts the Telluride Mushroom Festival—an event that brings fungal science, conservation, foraging, cultivation, psychedelic research, art, and community together in the Colorado mountains. Tamara MC reports…
… Nestled in the Colorado mountains, Telluride has long been a town of festivals: Bluegrass, Film, Mountainfilm, and Jazz. But for more than four decades, the Telluride Mushroom Festival has carved out its own niche as the largest gathering of its kind in North America.
The festival began as the Aspen Mushroom Conference before moving to Telluride in 1981. Its early circle included Dr. Emanuel “Manny” Salzman, a Denver radiologist and one of its founders, and his wife, Joanne Salzman, along with Gary Lincoff, author of The Audubon Society Field Guide to North American Mushrooms; Dr. Andrew Weil, the integrative medicine pioneer; Paul Stamets, the mycologist and entrepreneur who founded Fungi Perfecti; and Goodtimes himself. Furci credits Goodtimes with helping bring the gathering from Aspen to Telluride. Today, the festival operates as a program of the Telluride Institute.
What began as a relatively intimate gathering focused on psychedelics and fungal science has grown considerably. More than 700 people attended in 2019; by 2025, [Guiliana] Furci [here] says, attendance had reached about 1,500. The growth accelerated in the pandemic years, when mushroom foraging and other outdoor pursuits drew new interest, part of what Furci calls “the mushroom hype.” Roughly 70 percent of recent attendees, she says, were experiencing the festival for the first time. Yet despite the influx of newcomers, the gathering retains what Furci describes as a “tribe or family feeling,” with regulars returning year after year and considering one another family…
…
… Without fungi, everyday life would look radically different: no beer, wine, chocolate, coffee, or bread. No penicillin. Fungi decompose organic matter and return nutrients to ecosystems, while fungal partnerships with plants helped make life on land possible and remain essential to much of terrestrial plant life.
“They are a life form that is different than plants and animals,” Furci explains. “They are neither plant nor animal nor bacteria. They can live on land, in the air, in water, both oceans and fresh waters.”
The fungal kingdom is astonishingly diverse, encompassing yeasts, molds, and mushroom-forming fungi, including everything from morels and chanterelles to conks and puffballs. Fungi also form the structural basis of lichens. When Furci mentions that morels and chanterelles are both fungi, she quickly puts the distance between them in perspective: “They are as closely related as a whale and a flea.”
Both whales and fleas belong to the animal kingdom, she notes, yet occupy profoundly different branches of it. The same is true within the fungal kingdom. “There are more ways to be a fungus than there are ways to be an animal,” Furci says.
Some of those differences challenge familiar ideas about reproduction. Schizophyllum commune, a widespread wood-decaying fungus, has more than 23,000 mating types—a genetic system far removed from a simple male-female binary.
Are fungi gendered? “No,” Furci says flatly. But she cannot bring herself to call them “it,” either. “They’re definitely not things, so I can’t talk about them as things. And they definitely don’t have a he vibe.”
For Furci, the problem is partly one of language. Calling a living organism “it” can reduce it to an object, while “he” or “she” imposes a gender fungi do not have. That attention to words extends well beyond pronouns.
Furci is one of the driving forces behind the “3F proposal”: Fauna, Flora, and Funga. For generations, “flora and fauna” has served as shorthand for the living world while leaving fungi linguistically—and often institutionally—out of the picture. In 2018, Furci and mycologists Francisco Kuhar, Elisandro Ricardo Drechsler-Santos, and Donald Pfister published a paper formally delimiting “funga” as the fungal equivalent of fauna and flora: the diversity of fungi within a particular place or region.
The idea has traveled far beyond the original paper. The Fauna Flora Funga Initiative now counts more than 2,500 signatories across 77 countries and documents adoption or use of mycologically inclusive language by conservation groups, universities, museums, and government agencies around the world. In 2021, the IUCN Species Survival Commission and Re:wild formally embraced the three-F framework, calling for fungi to be recognized alongside fauna and flora in conservation language…
Much more: “The Telluride Mushroom Festival: Where Fungal Love Runs Wild,” from @tamaramc.bsky.social
Still, we’d do well to remember (Sir) Terry Pratchett‘s wise reminder: “All Fungi are edible. Some fungi are only edible once.”
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As we celebrate shrooms, we might recall that it was on this date in 1965, on their second day off during their tour of North America, that The Beatles rented a house owned by Zsa Zsa Gabor in Beverly Hills. There, they were visited by Roger McGuinn and David Crosby of the Byrds as well as English actress Eleanor Bron, who’d appeared in their film, Help. While young girls stood outside the gates, John Lennon and George Harrison had their second experience with LSD, and Ringo his first. (Paul did not partake.) It was here that McGuinn introduced Harrison to Indian music, particularly that of Ravi Shankar.
Actor Peter Fonda was also present, and helped comfort Harrison as he grew unsettled after taking LSD and thought he was dying. According to Fonda, Lennon overheard him saying to George, “I know what it’s like to be dead,” recalling a childhood incident in which his heart stopped beating several times due to blood loss after accidentally shooting himself in the stomach. Lennon then told Fonda “You’re making me feel like I’ve never been born,” words that were later included in the Revolver track “She Said She Said.”
“Every river seems to come with a purpose”*…
The Yukon Delta in Alaska formed where the Yukon River flows into the Bering Sea
A simple scaling law brings order to the chaos of flowing water, rock, and sediment. As Natalie Wolchover reports, new findings have extended the law even further…
A river has my heart. It’s not the austere, black Thames winding through London, where I was born, but a lazy green one 5,000 miles away, where I spent my adolescence: the Blanco River in Texas. My maternal ancestors have dipped into its waters for generations, as I have on countless summer days.
The Blanco is a tributary of the San Marcos, which flows into the Guadalupe, and on into the Gulf of Mexico. You can probably picture how this looks on a map because all river networks look similar, creeping through the landscape, merging into ever wider and longer channels, downhill to the sea. The pattern resembles twigs on branches that connect to trunks of trees (and the branching of their root systems, too), and it likewise resembles the veins of plant leaves, our own systems of blood vessels, and train and highway networks that feed into cities.
There’s something appealing about this ubiquitous pattern, so appealing to me personally that I have it tattooed on my forearm: the silhouette of a tree, with leafless branches reaching upward and roots burrowing downward, almost in mirror image. “The shapes of rivers and leaf vasculature and so on — branching networks — you can just about grasp the pattern, but it’s still chaotic, so there’s something fascinating with that,” said Chris Paola, a river scientist at the University of Minnesota.
Systems that branch in this way are “transport networks”: They transport some fluid substance (water, blood, traffic) from every place to a single place (the sea, a heart, a city center). Of the various examples, rivers are especially revealing, I think, since they arise from neither biological evolution nor urban planning, but rather chaotic Earth processes. Yet they obey simple, universal laws…
…
… In 1957, a U.S. Geological Survey scientist named John Hack discovered the most important law of river networks. In rivers and streams in Virginia and Maryland, Hack measured the length of each stream and the area of the land that slopes toward that stream and therefore drains into it, called its basin or drainage area. What he discovered is now known as Hack’s law: Any stream, from the littlest brook to the mightiest river, has a length that’s proportional to its drainage area raised to the power of 0.6. (In symbolic form: L ~ A0.6.) There’s a bit of variance around that 0.6 value — Earth is, after all, a complicated place — but “the general regularity of the relation is nevertheless remarkable,” Hack wrote. “Stream lengths tend to increase proportionally to the 0.6 power of the drainage area, regardless of the geological or structural characteristics of the area.”
As more and better data has accrued, especially from satellite imagery, Hack’s law has held worldwide. Why this is the case is the essential mystery geomorphologists have grappled with ever since. “Hack’s law is still the big question,” said Hansjörg Seybold, a geomorphologist at the Institute for Interdisciplinary Mountain Research at the Austrian Academy of Sciences.
It’s not so surprising that the bigger the land area of the basin, the longer the stream that drains it. But in a purely mathematical sense, one might expect that stream length would follow a slightly different power law. Imagine a square patch of land. You might guess that regardless of slope or size, in idealized form, the land would drain into a stream that’s the length of one of its sides — a vertical line down the middle, for example. That length is the square root of the area — or A to the power of 0.5.
Under that circumstance, big river basins would have the same proportions as the small river basins that feed the tributaries within them. Their structure would be the same, regardless of size. But that’s not what Hack’s law reveals.
Instead, as a drainage areas get larger, the length of their streams increases faster. “A nice way to phrase it would be that small basins are short and squat, and large basins are long and thin,” said Daniel Rothman, a geophysicist at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. We unknowingly pick up on this pattern when we look at a network of tributaries on a map; a perfectly self-similar, fractal river network wouldn’t look quite right. Basins and streams become elongated at larger scales, so that river networks have an inherent directionality that stretches toward the sea. One result of that elongation is that neighboring river networks must lie closer together than they would with a 0.5 power law…
…
… Rivers do shift their layouts all the time. In the 1990s, in parallel with the work on optimal channel networks, geomorphologists developed powerful landscape evolution models to capture this constant adjustment and show the mechanism by which Hack’s law etches itself on the landscape. These computer simulations start with water flowing downhill, eroding rock as it goes. Tiny, random irregularities in the topography cause some channels to capture more runoff than others. Those channels in turn erode faster and deepen, which causes them to attract still more water. One streambed might grow toward its neighbor, and thereby intercept some of its runoff. The victorious stream grows longer and carries more water, while the losing stream shrinks or disappears. These sorts of local adjustments like these route water along ever more efficient paths. As the entire drainage network gradually reorganizes over thousands of years or more, it attains and then continues to tweak a configuration that transports water downhill with minimal energy dissipation.
Gravity and friction are the driving forces of this process. Gravity supplies potential energy to flowing water. Friction, the cause of erosion, dissipates that energy. A channel configuration that wastes energy by forcing water along inefficient routes tends to erode rapidly and change. A configuration that routes water more effectively is stabler and therefore more persistent. The network becomes optimal through this dynamic evolution, eventually arriving at a form that adheres to Hack’s law.
That explanation of river network geometry hangs together for me, though geomorphologists still have many questions. Some study rivers that deviate from Hack’s law. Others organize transport networks that follow Hack’s law into one class of optimal transport networks, among a whole family of them. Trees, which branch in three dimensions instead of two, would be in a different class from rivers and follow different optimal scaling laws, for instance.
Now, geomorphologists have a new finding to explain. In April 2026, Tian Dong of the University of Texas, Rio Grande Valley and co-authors made the cover of Science for discovering that Hack’s law holds not only for rivers’ tributary networks, but also for their deltas, the fanlike structures that form where a river meets the sea.
Rivers essentially hit a brick wall when they reach the (nonflowing) ocean. The sudden deceleration of the water causes it to drop the sediments it carries. These pile up to form new land. In the process, the river’s water splits into a different kind of network of channels, which shift locations constantly as sediments build up and wash away.
Scientists told me that they’ve long wondered about the organization of channels in river deltas, but they are hard to study. Unlike the upstream river network, where slope and elevation differences make it easy to calculate the area of land that drains into any given tributary, deltas are flat and especially dynamic. But through a sophisticated analysis of satellite data that allowed them to distinguish land from water, Dong and his collaborators determined that the length of a channel in a river delta scales with the size of its nourishment area — the area that it supplies with sediments — raised to the power of 0.6. Rivers’ tributary networks and distributary networks are opposites — sediments are transported away from one end and deposited at the other — yet they abide by the same math. Geomorphologists are now considering why Hack’s law should apply in this inverse context.
Reflecting on my own question, I think it’s the coexistence of simplicity and determinism with chaos and randomness that makes the optimal structure of rivers so captivating. Natural efficiency is, perhaps, innately appealing to us…
The order in seeming chaos: “Why Are Rivers So Mathematical?” from @nattyover.bsky.social in @quantamagazine.org.
* Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore
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As we go with the flow, we might send carefully-calculated birthday greetings to Moritz Cantor; he was born on this date in 1829. A historian of mathematics, he is best remembered for the four volume work Vorlesungen über Geschichte der Mathematik (“Lectures on the History of Mathematics”) which traces the history of mathematics up to 1799, the year of Gauss‘s doctoral thesis. Modern historians credit Moritz with introducing a new discipline to a field, the history of mathematics, that had hitherto lacked the sound, conscientious, and critical methods of other fields of history.
“We often take for granted the very things that most deserve our gratitude”*…
In a lovely meditation on the things that we take for granted, Jordan Dworkin walks us through a modern apartment, pausing to see items through the eyes of people who were around when they were invented…
All the items in this room were once out of reach; some not yet invented, others too rare or costly for the vast majority of people. Today, most of us lucky enough to live with them walk past without a second thought.
It is to humanity’s credit that we remain restless in the midst of all of this progress. We continue to look forward, pushing the frontier further with new treatments, new tools, and new institutions that will help future generations in ways we can’t even picture yet.
But our lives today are a gallery of past generations’ heroic efforts to do the same. It serves us, and honors them, to recapture whenever possible the old sense of awe at these wonders that have long since become commonplace…
Things we take for granted that once inspired awe: “Ordinary Abundance,” from @jdworkin.bsky.social.
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As we appreciate our ancestors, we might send innovative birthday greetings to George Joseph Herriman III; he was born on this date in 1880. A cartoonist best remembered for Krazy Kat, which ran from 1913 until his death in 1944, he was never a commercial success; his strip survived via the admiration (and support) of his publisher, William Randolph Hearst. But Herriman was enormously influential, a primary influence on cartoonists like Will Eisner, Charles M. Schulz, Robert Crumb, Art Spiegelman, Bill Watterson, and Chris Ware.
“Of all the forms of inequality, injustice in health care is the most shocking and inhuman”*…
Why are health care costs so high in the U.S.? Harvard public health scholar John McDonough chalks it up to a “wrong turn” in 1980, and the consequences that have ensued…
“What happened in 1980?” John McDonough wondered every time he looked at the numbers.
After 1980, U.S. healthcare became far more expensive than care in peer nations such as France and Germany. In 1980, the U.S. was at the top of a tight pack of industrialized democracies. After that, the cost of American healthcare soared. By 2024, U.S. spending as a percentage of GDP was about 50 percent higher than that of peer nations.
“In the early 1980s, we can see a significant upsurge,” McDonough, professor of the practice of public health at the Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health, said in an interview. “All of a sudden, we jumped from the rest of the crowd and were now in a category by ourselves. Over the following 40, 45 years, the distance kept growing.”
McDonough knew what he could rule out: Any suggestion that Americans get more for their money. On the contrary, millions of U.S. citizens are uninsured; out-of-pocket costs and medical debt are high; and even people with insurance have trouble getting appointments. Meanwhile, physician satisfaction is low, leading to early retirements and migration to nontraditional models like concierge care.
When the pandemic hit, McDonough had time for a deep dive into the issue. This month, after a five-year “labor of love,” he’s presenting his answer in a new book, America’s Wrong Turn: US Health Care in the Neoliberal Era [here]. In it, McDonough links increases in healthcare costs to a new political and economic era dominated by a belief in an unfettered free market, tax cuts, deregulation, privatization, smaller government, increased immigration, and free trade.
This trend in U.S. policy — “Reaganomics” before it became “neoliberalism” — included tax, spending, and regulatory overhauls instituted during President Ronald Reagan’s eight years in the White House. But McDonough, a Democrat who served 13 years in the Massachusetts House of Representatives, isn’t just interested in Reagan. Over the next 40 years, some presidents adhered to neoliberalism’s tenets but even those who didn’t were influenced by its deep penetration into the nation’s political and economic ecosystem, he says.
McDonough found a guide in the writings of Yale University political scientist Stephen Skowronek, who suggests that presidents should be measured by the durability and influence of their ideas and values well beyond their terms in office. Skowronek identified only five singular and decades-long eras in U.S. history, those of Thomas Jefferson, Andrew Jackson, Abraham Lincoln, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, and Ronald Reagan.
While Reagan was the first president to espouse neoliberal political and economic philosophy, the core ideas date back decades, fostered by Nobel Prize-winning economist Milton Friedman, who became a key economic adviser to Reagan.
“There was a New Deal-FDR era between 1933 and 1980,” McDonough said. “The neoliberal era that Reagan kicked off saw itself as the corrective to the pro-government prior era. Important dynamic consistencies persisted among Ronald Reagan and Bill Clinton, George W. Bush, and even Barack Obama. There were sets of beliefs with a Republican conservative flavor and with a Democratic flavor that were surprisingly consistent.”
When describing the U.S. healthcare system under neoliberalism, McDonough, who worked with U.S. senators on the Affordable Care Act, cites several major effects, chief among them a permissiveness toward corporate mergers and consolidations that reduces competition, and an unleashing of private equity.
Since the 1980s, U.S. healthcare has become increasingly consolidated, dominated by fewer and larger organizations. The two largest dialysis centers have 92 percent of the U.S. market, for example, while the two largest providers of intravenous solutions control 75 percent of the market. The two largest syringe manufacturers have a 69 percent market share.
Consolidation extends to physician and hospital markets, with 90 percent of hospital markets, 65 percent of physician specialist markets, and 74 percent of health insurance markets considered highly concentrated, McDonough writes.
One argument for larger organizations is the potential for cost saving through both efficiencies and a greater ability to negotiate savings, but the cost-saving record of larger organizations in healthcare is poor, McDonough says. He cites a 2022 RAND study that indicates that price increases of between 3 percent and 65 percent accompany hospital mergers.
Private equity’s focus on generating profits to maximize shareholder value conflicts with improving patient care, McDonough argues. When private equity firms target businesses, enhance their operations, and quickly resell them at a profit, critics say the value extraction from the deals creates harmful operating cuts and dismantling rather than business improvement.
McDonough reviews other key forces in the evolution of U.S. healthcare in recent decades, including fragmentation leading to high administrative costs, low spending on public health and preventive care, unequal access and uneven quality of care, and cost shifts onto consumers via copays, coinsurance and other cost-sharing mechanisms, which result in high levels of medical debt.
McDonough offers prescriptions, but recognizes that change will require political buy-in for things such as strengthened antitrust action to break up megacompanies and stronger regulation of prescription drug pricing, both difficult in an era of sharply divided politics. Government, along with industry, needs to reaffirm a commitment to patient care as the center of its efforts, he says, while also foregrounding equity, access, affordability, and population health.
“The damage to U.S. health and medical care from the 40-year neoliberal era has left considerable harm for patients and consumers, for medical workers at all levels, and for public/population health,” McDonough said. “It will take radical action to reinvigorate the values and principles of our health system that have been lost and eroded. An essential way to do this is to understand how we got to this position in the first place.”…
How we got here and how to respond: “How to fix U.S. healthcare? ‘Radical action’,” from @harvardmagazine.bsky.social.
For a case in point, see David Oks‘ “Why American ambulance rides are so expensive” (source of the image at the top).
And for a more straightforward, but somewhat more “radical” prescription than McDonough’s, see: “Universal Health Coverage Could Save $1 Trillion and 114,000 Lives Every Year, Yale Study Projects,” from the Yale School of Public Health: “A single-payer universal health care system could cover every American, save more than 100,000 lives a year, and still cost $1 trillion less than the system it would replace…”
Finally: this is the third (R)D in a row that focuses on (some of) the consequences of the unholy infection of government by business, largely in the U.S. (though, of course, we can see the phenomenon all over the world). The focus shifts with tomorrow’s post. But before we go, Dylan Riley‘s pithy diagnosis of “the chaotic obscenity of our current moment”: “The Thesis of Political Capitalism.”
* Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
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As we actually make America healthy again, we might recall that it was on this date in 1793 that prominent Philadelphia physician (and Declaration of Independence signatory) Benjamin Rush alerted the city’s mayor that an epidemic of mosquito-borne yellow fever was fast emerging.
In the summer of that year, refugees from a yellow fever epidemic in the Caribbean fled to Philadelphia. Within weeks, people throughout the city were experiencing symptoms. By the middle of October, around 100 people were dying from the virus daily. Caring for the victims so strained public services that the local city government collapsed. Philadelphia was also the seat of the United States government at the time, but federal authorities simply evacuated the city in the face of the raging epidemic. Eventually, a cold front eliminated Philadelphia’s mosquito population, and the death toll fell to 20 per day by late October. By the time the epidemic ended, roughly 5,000 people had died.
Today, a vaccine prevents yellow fever in much of the world, though thousands of unvaccinated people still die every year from the disease.
“It’s very hard to buy a sports team and lose money.”*…
Just 14 months after agreeing to buy the controlling interest in the L.A. Lakers at a valuation of $10 billion, Mark Walter found himself in a spot of trouble and needed to sell. Joshua Kushner (who recently tried to buy a big stake in the World Cup) and Bob Iger stepped right up, and agreed to buy his share at a valuation of @$12.5 billion. Kushner is a bona fide billionaire; Iger is an almost-billionaire; together, their net worth is something like $6 billion. Under the NBA’s rules, Mr, Kushner’s investment vehicle, Thrive Eternal, cannot invest more than 20 percent in the Lakers; so, unless they get a waiver, it’s likely that Kushner and Iger will finance the balance of their purchase personally (and/or with funds from rich friends).
As Eben Novy-Williams observes, this transaction is just the latest in a long line of folks with relatively fresh fortunes buying into the big leagues…
Sports team sales tend to reflect what’s happening in the broader economy. During the dot-com boom, many of those newly-minted millionaires found their way to sports (Ted Leonsis, Mark Cuban, Paul Allen, Henry Samueli and John Moores). That gave way to the real estate boom, and those buyers followed (Stephen Ross, Stan Kroenke, Jimmy Haslam, the Lerners, the Wilfs). More recently, it’s been the finance, private equity and hedge fund titans (Josh Harris, Wes Edens, Marc Lasry, Tony Ressler, David Tepper, Tom Gores, the list goes on and on)… – source
And as the title quote (from Carlyle [and here] co-founder and Baltimore Orioles co-owner David Rubenstein) suggests, this make a very straightforward kind of mercenary sense– major professional sports franchises have historically outperformed traditional indexes like the S&P 500 over the long term. And it stands to reason: scarcity value, legal local monopolies, and lucrative media rights make for a heady brew.
In a recent Substack post, Derek Thompson takes stock of the situation. After his own review of the Lakers deal, he puts it into context…
… In an age of surging wealth inequality, where stock market valuations routinely outpace median income growth by surreal factors, there is a live debate over whether billionaires should exist at all. The strongest argument for their rightfulness is that some people amass ten-figure wealth by building companies; by working within free markets to invent new technologies that millions or billions of people choose to use; and by managing complex enterprises that create billions or trillions of dollars in consumer welfare and investor value. But even this steelman case for billionaires presents as a kind of taunting insult to what often passes for sports ownership today. Professional-sports ownership offers the already-impossibly-rich a unique opportunity to become vastly richer, not necessarily by working, building, inventing, or doing anything positive at all, but rather by merely sitting on top of an asset that American law has conspired to make absurdly scarce and luridly profitable.
A thought experiment. Imagine if a diabolical oligarchic elite wanted to build an efficient and low-risk machine for turning their already-elevated wealth into exospherically extreme wealth. What might such a devious group of self-serving plutocrats want?
- Unleash the forces of capitalism! you might think. But no, absolutely not. Capitalism is markets, and markets are ruthless. What you should want is legal permission to create a monopoly that builds a moat deep enough to keep all competition out. That way, you’ve got something much better than capitalism: artificial scarcity and pricing power without the risk of unwanted rivals.
- Get the government off your back! you might say. Wrong again. You know what’s nicer than getting the government off your back? Getting the government on your side. You should crave dependable government subsidies to pad your profits.
So say, for example, that you wanted to set up this money machine in American professional sports. Your devious plan: shield leagues from antitrust law so owners can enjoy monopoly profits; use that market power to extract money from local governments; and rewrite the tax code to hand sports owners special advantages.
Lo and behold, all of this exists…
[Thompson unpacks the particulars: sports leagues are basically legal oligopolies; labor law makes sports ownership even sweeter; sports stadiums have become legal ransom; and team-owner tax benefits put the cherry on top. He concludes…]
… People sometimes compare buying sports franchises to buying works of fine art—say, a Monet, a Calder, or a Rodin. In both cases, the simplest answer to the common question “Why is that thing worth so much?” is always “Because someone rich was willing to pay it.”
But there is an important difference between the factors that push up the value of Monet paintings and those of sports franchises. Think about why a Monet painting is so valuable. Setting aside the irresolvable debate about the ineffable nature of beauty and quality and artistic pleasure, the underlying fact is that a Monet painting is valuable because it was painted by Claude Monet, a famous individual who once lived, and is now dead. The finality and scarcity of the Impressionist oeuvre—the fact that one can buy a painting from Monet’s Rouen Cathedral series and not worry that he will paint 100 more tomorrow—is a function of his mortality. There is no scientific or technological means by which anyone can exhume and reanimate Monet’s skeleton, sit the zombie upright in a chair, hand him a paintbrush, an easel, and a cup of tea, and say, “Now that you’re all settled, I’d like 500 additions to the Rouen Cathedral series.”
But the scarcity of sports franchises emerges from the laws of mankind, not the laws of nature. It benefits from a set of rules, laws, and customs that we made up and that can be redrawn in a way that Rouen’s facade never will be.
I am not a fan of conspiracies, and I am not a socialist. But nothing makes me feel more socialist than the public, out-in-the-open conspiracy to buttress the value of sports assets, whose lush beneficiaries tend to be impossibly rich already. Solutions here are hard. Many fans like the weird, market-warping rules of professional sports, which often promote parity and competition and keep favorite players on long contracts; plus, I don’t think doubling the number of NBA or NFL teams is particularly desirable among most fans. But ameliorations are possible. Tax law could further restrict the ability to team owners to amortize. And honestly, I don’t know why some local governments shouldn’t own stakes in the professional sports teams that they often directly finance. I’m not sure exactly how this would work, and I’m sure that there would be some negative side effects of literally socializing the already-kinda-socialist dynamic of professional sports. But the status quo is vile enough to justify some experiments. What we have today is a handful of lucky, franchise-owning billionaires who get to sit at a poker table where every card they turn over has a face or an ace. I wouldn’t call it cheating. I wouldn’t call the legal structure of American sports cheating or corrupt. I would call it … the law. But the law is bad.
An out-in-the-open conspiracy to help a lucky few billionaires get much, much richer: “The American Sports Plutocracy Is Bullshit,” from @dkthomp.bsky.social.
For a peek at an Lakers ownership sideshow, see Giri Nathan‘s “The Buss Children Are Squabbling Over Their Remaining Lakers Stake.”
And for a different kind of context, see the source of the pull quote in the intro, “The Lakers Are a Massive Bet on AI Disruption,” in which Novy-Williams suggests that Kushner is “buying the Lakers because sports are relatively insulated from the economic havoc looming from the rest of his portfolio. That’s not a hedge against AI, it’s a doubling down.”
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As we play ball, we might recall that it was on this date in 1920 that the owners of the Canton Bulldogs, Akron Pros, Cleveland Indians, and Dayton Triangles met in Canton, Ohio, and formed the American Professional Football Association– which proceeded to add teams and, in 1922, renamed itself the National Football League– the NFL.
At the outset, the APFA/NFL was very different from the behemoth it would become:
This new organization did not resemble a league as we would know it today, but was more like a professional association whose sole functions were membership and articulation of some general principles. Perhaps the best modern-day analogy would be a weak form of the NCAA. As can be imagined, the league office had no influence on anybody. It set no schedules, leaving each team to arrange its own slate. – Pro Football: The Early Years: An Encyclopedic History, 1895–1959
Still, there were hints even then of what was to come. The owners who created the “league” agreed to introduce a salary cap for the teams, to refrain from signing players under contract with another team, and to hold a league championship competition.
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