27 August 2026
The Code-Share Era: Why Sport's Next Growth Market Is Someone Else's Audience
Bayern Munich and the NHL just signed a partnership with no disclosed money in it. That is exactly what makes it interesting.
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AI can increasingly create the content around sport. What it cannot create is a result that counts. Josh Kushner’s extraordinary summer, and a decade of franchise repricing, reveal where the real scarcity in sport is moving.
Data as of mid-August 2026. The Lakers transaction remains subject to NBA approval.
Twelve and a half billion dollars for the Los Angeles Lakers is a remarkable number on its own. Josh Kushner and former Disney chief Bob Iger have agreed to acquire the franchise at a $12.5 billion valuation, subject to NBA approval, the highest ever agreed in a team-sports sale and comfortably above the $10 billion at which Mark Walter acquired control of the same club only last year. Fourteen months separate the two transactions. In that time, nothing about the Lakers’ arena, roster economics or media footprint changed enough to explain a 25% repricing.
The longer arc is even harder to explain through conventional valuation logic. Jerry Buss bought the Lakers in 1979 as part of a $67.5 million package that also included the NHL’s Kings and the Forum, then the largest transaction in professional sports. Forbes first valued the franchise at $1 billion in 2013, at $4.4 billion in 2020 and at $7.1 billion as recently as October 2024, months before an actual transaction priced it at $10 billion, and less than two years before another priced it at $12.5 billion. Twice in fourteen months, the market has paid dramatically above the most informed public estimate of what the Lakers are worth.
The numbers that matter
The transaction becomes considerably more interesting, however, when you look at what Kushner was trying to invest in less than two weeks earlier. Not another basketball team, not a streaming platform, not a sports-technology company, but FIFA, or more precisely the commercial machinery surrounding the World Cup. On 28 July, FIFA unveiled plans for FIFA Forward Enterprise, a new FIFA-owned subsidiary that would consolidate broadcast, sponsorship, ticketing, licensing and tournament operations, raising up to $4.2 billion from outside investors at an implied equity valuation of $20 billion. Kushner’s permanent-capital vehicle Thrive Eternal was expected to lead the investor group, with FIFA retaining control. Three days later, after a backlash unlike anything world football has produced in years, Gianni Infantino abandoned the proposal.
Then came the Lakers.
The timing invites conspiracy: FIFA says no, and twelve days later the same investor agrees to buy one of the most famous sporting franchises on earth. Was the FIFA project merely a distraction while something bigger came together in Los Angeles? The evidence points the other way. Iger has said publicly that he and Kushner had been pursuing an NBA expansion franchise in Las Vegas and pivoted only when it emerged that Walter might be willing to sell; by Iger’s own account, the deal came together in three days. Nor was Kushner new to basketball. He holds a minority stake in the Miami Heat, which he must now sell for the Lakers deal to proceed, and previously held a stake in the Memphis Grizzlies.
The interesting connection between FIFA and the Lakers is therefore not hidden. It is sitting in plain sight, in an investment thesis Kushner himself articulated months earlier, and it becomes far more provocative when read against the rise of artificial intelligence.
Before examining the thesis, it is worth establishing how unusual the current market is. The Lakers agreement is not an outlier price in an otherwise stable market; it is the top rung of a ladder that has been rebuilt almost annually.
| Franchise | Year | Buyer | Valuation |
|---|---|---|---|
| Los Angeles Lakers | 2026 | Josh Kushner and Bob Iger (pending NBA approval) | $12.5B |
| Los Angeles Lakers | 2025 | Mark Walter | $10.0B |
| Boston Celtics | 2025 | Bill Chisholm | $6.1B |
| Washington Commanders | 2023 | Josh Harris group | $6.05B |
| Denver Broncos | 2022 | Walton-Penner group | $4.65B |
| Portland Trail Blazers | 2026 | Tom Dundon group | $4.25B |
| Phoenix Suns | 2023 | Mat Ishbia | $4.0B |
Control transactions above $4 billion, per league and ESPN/Sportico reporting. The Celtics transaction could reach roughly $7.3 billion in total if the second tranche completes at its agreed price by 2028.
Seven control sales above $4 billion in five years, each of the last four NBA transactions setting or approaching a record, and the same franchise twice repriced far above its published estimate. Forbes now puts the average NBA team at $5.4 billion, up 21% in a single year; Sportico calculates the average has risen 113% since 2022. The most telling series, however, is the relationship between prices and revenues. Forbes’ data shows NBA franchises selling at roughly 2.6 times revenue in 2000, 4.2 times in 2013 and 12.9 times by 2024. The Walter transaction valued the Lakers at roughly 18 times estimated revenue.
Multiples like these are not what investors pay for cash flows. They are what investors pay for something else, something they believe cash-flow analysis fails to capture. The conventional explanations, media-rights growth, scarcity of trophy assets, billionaire competition, are all partially true. The NBA’s new media agreement, roughly $76 billion over eleven years with Disney, NBC and Amazon, certainly underwrites part of the confidence. But an 18-times-revenue price and a 25% repricing in fourteen months suggest the market is converging on a belief about what these institutions are, not merely what they earn.
Kushner has told us, more directly than most buyers ever do, what he believes that is.
When Kushner launched Thrive Eternal in April, he described the vehicle as a home for assets with “qualities that cannot be replicated by technology.” Its first sports investment was an agreed minority stake in Major League Baseball’s San Francisco Giants, and the language around the launch dwelt on iconic franchises and cultural institutions rooted in tradition, identity and shared experience. It is an intriguing thesis from the founder of a technology investment firm, and it is not an isolated one. The Wall Street Journal, reporting from its sports investment forum this summer, described investors as seeing an “AI-proof” opportunity in live sport. JPMorgan’s Mary Callahan Erdoes went further at an industry summit in June, calling sports “the antithesis of AI,” and IMG president Adam Kelly has argued that sport provides a counterweight to a world of effectively infinite AI-generated content.
The basic version of the argument is easy to state: AI creates abundance, sport creates scarcity. But that framing does not go far enough, because AI is already deep inside sport itself. Wimbledon has used generative AI to produce personalized player stories and commentary around its digital highlights since 2023. Olympic broadcasters deployed AI-assisted highlights generation at scale in Paris. Deloitte’s 2026 industry outlook describes AI as moving from experimentation toward becoming part of the operating backbone of sports organizations, reshaping everything from fan engagement to internal decision-making.
The abundance is no longer hypothetical elsewhere in media either. According to a study by the analytics firm Graphite, reported by Axios, AI-written articles surpassed human-written articles among newly published web content in late 2024, reaching roughly 51.7% of sampled new articles by May 2025. Whatever one thinks of that content’s quality, the direction is unambiguous: the marginal cost of producing more media is collapsing toward zero. Meanwhile the global market for sports media rights, the fees paid for the one category of content AI cannot originate, passed $60 billion for the first time in 2024 and is projected by S&P Global to exceed $67 billion in 2026. Content in general is becoming abundant. Rights to real competition keep getting more expensive.
So it would be misleading to claim that AI cannot recreate sports content. It increasingly can. It can summarize the game, comment on it, package it and personalize it, and generative video, synthetic commentary and simulation will only improve. The volume of material that can be produced around a sporting event is likely to explode exactly as it is exploding across the rest of media.
Which raises a more uncomfortable question: what happens when the spectacle itself is no longer scarce?
Imagine, eventually, an AI-generated basketball game of extraordinary quality. The arena looks right, the commentary sounds right, the players move correctly, the crowd reacts, and the winning shot drops with 0.3 seconds remaining. Technically impressive, perhaps genuinely entertaining. But consider what actually changed when the ball went in. No team moved up the standings. No player won a championship, no supporter lost one, no record book was amended and no history was made, because the game never counted.
That is the distinction that matters. AI can manufacture spectacle. It cannot manufacture consequence.
We habitually describe sport as entertainment, and that is only partially correct. A film can move an audience to tears even though everyone knows the characters are fictional; a television series can create enormous cultural moments without anything in the story having happened. Sport works differently. Part of its power comes from the knowledge that something irreversible is occurring in real time. There will be another match, but never this match again. Someone wins, someone qualifies, someone goes home, a career changes, a championship enters the record book, and all of it matters because the sporting system around the event has collectively agreed that it matters.
The Premier League can stage hundreds of matches, but only those played inside the competition determine the champion. Thousands of football tournaments exist, but only one currently determines the FIFA world champion. Thirty NBA franchises play basketball, but only games recognized inside the NBA’s competitive structure lead to the NBA championship. The scarce product, in other words, is not simply live sport. It is legitimate consequence, and that consequence is created by institutions.
Which brings us back to Josh Kushner.
The Lakers are obviously an extraordinary brand, carrying generations of history and some of basketball’s most recognizable names. But Kushner and Iger are not buying imagery or content. Anyone can buy a Lakers jersey, license footage under the appropriate agreement or follow the team from anywhere on earth. Ownership buys something categorically scarcer: a permanent seat inside the system where consequential basketball happens.
There are thirty NBA franchises, and no amount of money launches the thirty-first tomorrow. League entry is controlled, ownership transfers require league approval, the franchise participates permanently rather than facing relegation, and every legitimate NBA championship must by definition emerge from that closed ecosystem.
The market has just started publishing the price of that scarcity directly. In March, the NBA’s Board of Governors voted to formally explore expansion to Las Vegas and Seattle, and reporting from Sportico and Bloomberg puts the expansion fees under discussion at $7 billion to $10 billion per team, for franchises that do not yet have a roster, an arena deal or a single season of history. No official figure exists, but the range itself is the revealing datapoint: the entry ticket alone, for a blank franchise, is being discussed at two-thirds of what Kushner and Iger agreed to pay for the Lakers.
And here the Lakers deal contains its own natural experiment, because Kushner and Iger were inside the Las Vegas expansion process before they pivoted. Offered the choice between a new seat at a reported $7-10 billion and the Lakers at $12.5 billion, they chose seventeen championships, generations of supporter memory and the most storied brand in basketball for the difference. The premium for history, on these numbers, was arguably a few billion dollars, and they judged it cheap.
The same repricing is visible one league over, at a smaller scale and a faster clip. WNBA expansion fees have escalated from $50 million for Golden State in 2023, to $75 million for Portland, to $250 million each for Cleveland, Detroit and Philadelphia in 2025, a fivefold increase in roughly two years.
| League | Expansion entry | Year | Fee |
|---|---|---|---|
| WNBA | Golden State Valkyries | 2023 | $50M |
| WNBA | Portland Fire | 2024 | $75M |
| WNBA | Cleveland, Detroit, Philadelphia | 2025 | $250M each |
| NBA | Las Vegas / Seattle (exploration) | 2026 | $7-10B per team, reported |
WNBA fees per Sportico and ESPN; NBA range as reported by Sportico and Bloomberg, no official figure.
Seats inside consequence-producing systems are being repriced everywhere, at every level, in the same direction. The Lakers simply sit at the top of the curve, stacking several forms of scarcity on top of one another, cultural, competitive, institutional and ownership scarcity at once. That combination goes a long way toward explaining a record price that brand value alone cannot.
Now compare that with what Kushner nearly bought through FIFA.
FIFA’s proposal has mostly been discussed as a private-capital story, and that framing misses the deeper logic. FFE would have consolidated FIFA’s commercial rights across broadcast, sponsorship, ticketing and licensing together with its tournament-delivery operations. Outside investors would have held minority, non-controlling stakes while FIFA retained sole authority over governance, competitions, the international calendar and sporting decisions. Read through the AI lens, Kushner was not proposing to invest primarily in football media. He was proposing to acquire economic exposure to the institution that determines which football matches count at the highest global level.
He would not have been the first investor to buy into the layer where consequence is monetized rather than the teams that produce it. A quiet asset class has been forming there for half a decade. CVC paid EUR 1.99 billion for 8.25% of LaLiga’s audiovisual-rights vehicle over fifty years, GBP 365 million for a one-seventh share of Six Nations rugby’s commercial rights, and $150 million for 20% of the WTA’s commercial subsidiary. Silver Lake invested $500 million in City Football Group at a $4.8 billion valuation. Liberty Media bought Formula 1 in 2017 at a $4.4 billion equity value, roughly $8 billion including debt; the Formula One Group’s listed equity is worth around $26 billion today, though that figure now also includes MotoGP.
| Transaction | Year | Structure | Value |
|---|---|---|---|
| Liberty Media acquires Formula 1 | 2017 | Full acquisition | $4.4B equity ($8B incl. debt); group equity ~$26B today |
| Silver Lake into City Football Group | 2019 | ~10% equity stake | $500M at $4.8B valuation |
| CVC and Six Nations | 2021 | 1/7th of commercial rights | GBP 365M |
| CVC and LaLiga | 2021 | 8.25% of audiovisual-rights vehicle, 50 years | EUR 1.99B |
| CVC and WTA | 2023 | 20% of commercial subsidiary | $150M |
| FIFA Forward Enterprise (withdrawn) | 2026 | Up to ~20% of FIFA’s commercial vehicle | $4.2B at implied $20B valuation |
Per company and league announcements; FFE per FIFA’s 28 July release.
Set in that table, FFE was not an aberration. It was the logical apex of the trend: the largest attempt yet to sell a stake in a consequence layer, priced at $20 billion because the consequence it monetizes, the designation of a world champion, is the deepest in sport.
The World Cup is not valuable because the world lacks football. There is no shortage of it: domestic leagues, continental tournaments, friendlies, youth competitions, exhibition games, creator tournaments, video games and endless football media. What is scarce is the match that can legitimately make someone world champion, and that designation is not generated by production quality. It is produced by institutional acceptance accumulated over generations. A technology company with unlimited capital could stage a beautifully produced international tournament, recruit broadcasters, build stadiums and offer enormous prize money. What it could not easily create is the collective agreement of players, associations and supporters that winning it makes you world champion. That is not a media asset. It is a legitimacy asset, and legitimacy may be one of the few things in the coming digital economy that stubbornly refuses to scale.
If the argument ended there, FFE would look like the perfect Thrive Eternal investment; few assets on earth are harder to replicate than the World Cup. Yet the proposal collapsed within three days, and the reason is the most instructive part of the whole episode: FIFA discovered that the legitimacy it monetizes is not entirely its own.
The reaction went far beyond criticism. UEFA’s 55 member associations voted to boycott future FIFA competitions, including the 2030 World Cup, unless the plan was dropped, declaring that the World Cup “is not for sale.” The AFC and Concacaf raised concerns about a process most federations had learned about from the press. Infantino withdrew the proposal on 31 July, acknowledging the divisions it had caused, and the fallout has continued since: on 14 August, New Zealand Football withdrew its support for his re-election and called for an independent review, even as its own confederation took a softer line, with the OFC welcoming FIFA’s internal review instead, a contrast that shows how unevenly the aftermath is settling.
This is normally read as a governance failure, and it certainly is one. But viewed through the question of sporting consequence, it reveals something structurally more interesting. FIFA can sell the commercial rights surrounding the World Cup: sponsorship, broadcasting, ticketing, licensing. Yet the reason those rights are valuable is distributed across an ecosystem FIFA does not own the way a corporation owns a factory. The World Cup depends on national associations, the associations depend on clubs, the clubs depend on players, and the entire economic structure ultimately depends on supporters agreeing that the competition matters. That creates a strange division between economic ownership and cultural legitimacy. FIFA controls the tournament, but it does not manufacture all of the meaning attached to it; that meaning was accumulated by generations before today’s executives, investors or sponsors arrived. When private capital reached for part of the economics surrounding that meaning, stakeholders began asking a question that does not arise in the same way with the Lakers: who actually has the authority to sell this?
Compare the two governance structures and the asymmetry becomes obvious. The NBA is a closed corporate league whose thirty owners are, collectively, the institution; when they approve a sale, there is no federation beneath them to object. FIFA sits on top of 211 member associations, six confederations, thousands of clubs and the accumulated loyalty of billions of supporters, none of whom signed the FFE term sheet. The Lakers transaction requires one approval vote. FFE required, in effect, the consent of world football, and world football declined to give it.
European club football offers a useful control group, because it prices the same underlying product, consequential competition, under a different institutional design. Forbes’ 2026 list values Real Madrid at $9.5 billion, Barcelona at $7.5 billion, Manchester United at $7.2 billion, Liverpool at $6.2 billion and Paris Saint-Germain at $5.8 billion, with the top thirty clubs collectively worth $87 billion. Actual transactions have run below those estimates but in the same direction: the Boehly-Clearlake consortium paid GBP 2.5 billion for Chelsea in 2022 with a further GBP 1.75 billion in committed investment; Sir Jim Ratcliffe paid roughly $1.3 billion for an initial 25% of Manchester United at an enterprise valuation around $6.3 billion, since increased to just under 29%; RedBird acquired AC Milan at a EUR 1.2 billion valuation in 2022.
| Club / asset | Year | Transaction | Value |
|---|---|---|---|
| Chelsea FC | 2022 | Control sale (Boehly/Clearlake) | GBP 2.5B + GBP 1.75B committed |
| AC Milan | 2022 | Control sale (RedBird) | EUR 1.2B |
| Manchester United | 2024 | 25% stake (Ratcliffe/INEOS), later ~29% | ~$1.3B at ~$6.3B enterprise value |
| Real Madrid | 2026 | Forbes estimated enterprise value | $9.5B |
| Top 30 European clubs | 2026 | Forbes combined estimate | $87B |
Per club announcements, Forbes 2026 valuations and ESPN/Sportico reporting.
The comparison yields a striking observation: the most valuable football club on earth, with the sport’s largest global following and a revenue base above $1.2 billion, is estimated at $3 billion less than what two American investors just agreed to pay for a basketball team. Part of the gap is institutional design. An NBA franchise is a permanent seat in a closed system, insulated from relegation, sharing league-level media revenue under an 11-year, roughly $76 billion contract. A European club, however storied, lives inside an open pyramid where sporting failure carries economic consequence. Investors pay a premium for consequence they can own without being exposed to it.
But that same exposure is precisely what gives European football its unmatched cultural depth, which is where the AI thesis returns.
The obvious AI-and-sport thesis, that human competition is valuable because machines cannot replace humans, is true but risks sentimentality. The commercially significant version is different: AI is set to expand the quantity of sports-related entertainment dramatically while simultaneously increasing the premium attached to events whose results carry institutional consequence. Highlights, commentary, analysis, personalized content, simulated matches and stories all become abundant. There is still only one World Cup final that counts.
That inversion deserves attention. In traditional media, distribution was the scarce layer until the internet made it abundant; production remained expensive until generative AI began attacking those costs too. Sport sits strangely against this trend, because almost everything surrounding the underlying event can become cheaper and more plentiful while the supply of consequential outcomes remains deliberately constrained. There will be one NBA champion this season, one Champions League winner, one World Cup champion, and none of those outcomes can be generated faster because technology improves. AI may therefore not merely leave elite sport untouched. It may make sport’s deepest scarcity more visible than it has ever been.
The numbers already trace the divergence. As AI-written material crossed half of all newly published web articles, the price of sports media rights, the one content category anchored to unrepeatable real events, kept climbing past $60 billion a year. As content multiplied, the revenue multiples paid for franchises tripled and then quadrupled. The market is not pricing content. It is pricing the anchor.
This offers a different way to read the extraordinary valuations attaching to sports properties. Investors are buying brands, media rights, global audiences, hospitality, sponsorship, merchandising and real-estate opportunities, all of it real. But they may also be buying something less tangible and far harder to replicate: the machinery that converts performance into consequence. A rulebook. A league table. A qualification structure. A championship lineage. The institutional authority to say: this happened, this counted, this person won.
That sounds philosophical until someone puts a number on it. In Los Angeles the number is currently $12.5 billion, and Kushner’s bid for FIFA’s commercial future placed a $20 billion implied equity valuation on an entity built around another consequential sporting ecosystem. The figures are not directly comparable, but the proximity of the two transactions is revealing: two enormous investments, two iconic sports properties, one investor, and underneath both, the same extraordinarily scarce commodity, the right to participate economically in events society has agreed matter.
| 2026 | Thrive Eternal’s sporting sequence | Scale |
|---|---|---|
| April | Launch of Thrive Eternal; agreed minority stake in the San Francisco Giants | First sports investment |
| 28 July | Positioned to lead the FFE investor group | Up to $4.2B raise at an implied $20B valuation |
| 31 July | FFE withdrawn by FIFA after federation backlash | - |
| 12 August | Agreement with Bob Iger to acquire the Lakers | $12.5B, a team-sports record |
Football may be the most interesting test case, because it holds perhaps the deepest reservoir of sporting consequence on earth. Promotion matters because the pyramid gives it meaning; relegation hurts because the pyramid makes the consequence real; finishing fourth matters because it leads somewhere; and a cup tie between a giant and a semi-professional club becomes compelling because the competition says the result counts equally for both. Much of football’s cultural power lives in these interconnected layers of consequence, and they are strikingly difficult to reproduce. Attempts to create new competitions keep discovering the same problem: capital can build the product, but it cannot automatically command legitimacy. A better format, bigger clubs, higher guaranteed revenues, elite executives and spectacular television all remain available for money. The belief of supporters that the competition matters does not.
That is why football should be careful about describing itself simply as an entertainment product. Products can be replicated. Football’s deepest value comes from things that are far harder to clone: history, legitimacy, belonging and consequence. And it is why the valuation gap between Real Madrid and the Lakers should not be read as football’s ceiling. It is closer to an unpriced asset: the consequence reservoir of the world’s game, held inside institutional structures that have not yet worked out how to monetize it without, as FFE demonstrated, triggering the very stakeholders who create it.
Here lies the genuinely fascinating part of Thrive Eternal’s strategy. Kushner built his reputation investing in companies designed to create the future, and he has now built a permanent-capital vehicle drawn to institutions whose value largely comes from the past: the Giants, potentially FIFA’s commercial ecosystem, now the Lakers. That is not a retreat from technology so much as a logical response to it. As technology makes more things reproducible, the things that cannot be reproduced become more distinctive, and the scarcest component of a great sports institution may not even be its brand. It is time. A century of history cannot be accelerated, tradition cannot be venture-funded, generations of supporter memory cannot be compressed into a product-development cycle, and AI cannot generate a hundred years of results that society retrospectively agrees actually happened. History only becomes history by happening, once.
The Lakers’ own ledger makes the point better than any theory. A franchise that changed hands inside a $67.5 million package in 1979 is now priced at $12.5 billion, and the intervening decades of Showtime, Kobe, Shaq and LeBron, of seventeen championships and forty years of continuous cultural presence, are precisely the part of the asset no competitor and no technology can now produce. The 185-fold appreciation of the package is not a content story. It is compounding consequence.
We cannot know how Kushner himself would frame the connection between FIFA, the Giants and the Lakers, and the sequence should not be mistaken for a master plan; the Lakers opportunity emerged quickly, and FFE was a separate project. But investment strategies are revealed by patterns as much as by individual transactions. Kushner explicitly created Thrive Eternal to own assets whose characteristics technology cannot replicate. Its first investment was a historic sports franchise. It then positioned itself to lead the investor group behind FIFA Forward Enterprise, and its founder is now party to a $12.5 billion agreement for the Lakers.
The obvious interpretation is that elite sport is an attractive hedge against AI. The more interesting interpretation is that AI is forcing investors to reconsider where scarcity actually resides. It may no longer reside in content, and it may not even reside in live entertainment. It resides in consequence. The ability to produce another basketball game is not scarce; the ability to produce an NBA championship game is. The ability to organize another football tournament is not scarce; the ability to produce a result recognized around the world as deciding the world champion is. That is an astonishingly powerful economic moat, because AI can produce an answer, an image, a voice and, soon, increasingly convincing worlds. What it cannot do is declare itself champion and make billions of people care.
Only institutions can do that, and institutions require something artificial intelligence cannot generate on demand: our collective belief that what happens next actually matters.
Perhaps that is what $12.5 billion buys. And perhaps that is what FIFA almost sold.
Sources: ESPN, CNN, Fortune, Forbes and AP reporting on the Lakers transactions (2025-2026); Forbes NBA and soccer team valuations (2013-2026); Sportico franchise valuations and team-sale reporting; NBA media releases (expansion exploration, March 2026; media agreements, 2024); Sportico and Bloomberg expansion-fee reporting; Sportico and ESPN on WNBA expansion fees; FIFA media release on FIFA Forward Enterprise (28 July 2026); UEFA, Concacaf and AFC statements; Reuters reporting on New Zealand Football and the OFC (August 2026); Joshua Kushner, Thrive Eternal launch statement (April 2026); Forbes and Axios on Thrive Eternal and the San Francisco Giants; The Wall Street Journal sports investment coverage (July 2026); Forbes on JPMorgan’s Mary Callahan Erdoes (June 2026); Deadline interview with IMG’s Adam Kelly; IBM and AELTC announcements on Wimbledon AI features; Olympic Broadcasting Services / Alibaba Cloud on Paris 2024 AI highlights; Deloitte 2026 Global Sports Industry Outlook; Graphite study via Axios on AI-written web content; SportBusiness Global Media Report and S&P Global on sports media rights; CVC, LaLiga, Six Nations, WTA, Silver Lake and Liberty Media announcements; club and Forbes data on Chelsea, Manchester United, AC Milan and Real Madrid.
A. Strulak writes on sports business, commercial strategy and the economics of rights. Vinciamo Sports, Sport. Reimagined.
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