We’re living in a weird time. On one hand, the future feels inevitable: AI this, automation that, like we kind of know what’s coming. On the other hand, nobody has a clue how it all plays out.
Jobs will come and go. Industries will shift. But one thing stays undefeated?
The unpredictability of sport.
In the last week alone, the Blue Jays lost one of the most heartbreaking losses in World Series history, the NBA saw more 40-piece games in the opening week than ever before, and three of the top four USL seeds got bounced in round one, including Louisville, which had only lost once all season. And (less important, but I’ll take the win) my Bulls went 5–0 to start the NBA season.
For the World Series, I watched Game 7 in a packed bar, shoulder-to-shoulder with Dodgers fans whose emotions were wound tighter than the seams on a baseball. I don’t claim to be a lifelong baseball diehard. In fact, most of the game was spent with a group of Aussies trying to insert as many cricket references as we could, not really knowing what was going on, but I watched every single moment.
Strangers were bonding in real time over every high and low. There was one guy standing off to the side who couldn’t bear to look at the screen from the 9th inning on. He just stood there, covering his eyes with his hands, breathing through every cheer, gasp, and groan in the room. That’s the kind of tension sport can summon. It’s not logical. It’s something deeper, something that pulls all of us into the same moment, whether we like it or not.
Sport does that. It turns logic into emotion. Numbers into narrative. It turns a room full of individuals into a tribe. For a few hours, nothing else about our lives mattered but that game, who would crack, who would hold their nerve, and whether belief in the impossible still counted for something.
The business of sport is booming. Team valuations are exploding. North America is gearing up for the World Cup, a moment that might flip soccer in this country forever. But none of that matters in the moment. Because when you’re a fan, the only thing you care about is winning, or the gut punch when you don’t.
Closer to home, I watched Orange County SC take second-seeded Sacramento to extra time last night. Both teams had a midfielder sent off. Ten vs ten in the dying minutes. And then it happened.
OCSC head coach Danny Stone subbed out our number one goalkeeper, probably the best in club history, for a backup. Tet Kadono. His fourth appearance of the season. Less than a minute before the penalty shootout.
I’m sure I wasn’t alone in my “Wait, what?” thinking when it was announced.
Walking up to take a penalty has to be one of the most stressful things in sport. You’re expected to score. If you don’t, you failed. And standing 12 yards away is someone trying to ruin your night. But what followed was a masterclass in coaching and pure guts. Tet saved three of the five penalties, sending OC through and instantly turning him into the most unlikely of heroes.
These are the moments.
I’ve led creative for global brands like Vans, Timberland, Dr Martens, and ic! Berlin, selling lifestyles built on wants and desires. And I loved every second of it. But when people ask me whether I prefer sports or fashion, it’s not even close.
You don’t get this in fashion.
That moment where a room holds its breath.
Where a player writes his own legacy in real time.
Where a fanbase feels seen, heard, and alive.
That’s the power of sport.
It’s not predictable.
It’s not safe.
But damn, it’s real.
As always, thanks for reading.
Hayden