Actors Ryan Reynolds and Rob McElhenney bought Wrexham A.F.C. in 2021 for $2.5 million; it’s now valued in the hundreds of millions, with an FX docus
Actors Ryan Reynolds and Rob McElhenney bought Wrexham A.F.C. in 2021 for $2.5 million; it’s now valued in the hundreds of millions, with an FX docuseries on Disney+ to match. LeBron James parlayed a $6.5 million stake in Liverpool F.C. into a position within Fenway Sports Group, whose portfolio includes the Boston Red Sox and the Pittsburgh Penguins. David Beckham is a co-owner of Inter Miami CF.
Even on TV, team ownership has become a saucy plotline. In Ted Lasso, Hannah Waddingham plays Rebecca Welton, a newly divorced owner navigating revenge and redemption through her football club who hires the hapless but effective coach Ted Lasso, played by Jason Sudeikis. In Netflix’s Running Point, Kate Hudson plays a woman trying to corral her siblings in the Gordon family after inheriting a professional basketball team. And in Ballers, Dwayne Johnson plays a former NFL player turned financial adviser whose later seasons revolve around assembling investors to buy an NFL franchise.
So, if it seems like there are more people who can say they’re team owners now than ever before, it’s because there are. In 2021, NBA commissioner Adam Silver opened the door to private equity funds purchasing minority stakes in teams, making it easier for institutional investors, celebrities, and global capital to enter the ecosystem. In 2024, NFL commissioner Roger Goodell followed suit, approving private equity investment. (Major League Baseball, under Rob Manfred, loosened restrictions in 2019.) The result is a novel ownership class that’s less top hat and cigar, more group chat and group investment.
Why does everyone suddenly want to be around the world of sports? A few reasons. First, it intersects with something more cultural: the rise of hospitality. Remember lockdown? There we were, on our phones, quarantining, not exactly bragging about our social lives. When the world reopened, people didn’t just want to go out. They wanted to be seen going out. And what splashier way than by appearing in the owner’s box during the finals?
Even as a self-described fashion person, I, too, have been bitten by the bug and regularly seek invites to live sports. My favorite invitation: Met board member Robert Denning and his husband, Charles Porch, the longtime Instagram VP who recently decamped to OpenAI, have JFK Jr.’s venerable courtside seats at Madison Square Garden, which happen to be next to James Dolan, the longtime, often polarizing owner of the New York Knicks.
The football field and basketball court are among the few stages that can’t be replicated—for now at least. AI may give us a four-day workweek, and it’s already reshaping entire original industries: Songs can be generated, movies can be synthesized, and influence itself can be engineered. But sports—live, unpredictable, physical—still have to happen in real time. Which means the people who control it don’t just own a team. They own a moment.
Women’s sports may be the most animated growth sector of all. Angel City FC launched a novel model of celebrity-backed, community-driven ownership, and the WNBA’s surging valuations suggest that what once looked like a niche investment is quickly becoming mainstream. The salary for Caitlin Clark, the Indiana Fever star and number one overall pick in the 2024 WNBA Draft, will boost from $78,000 to $530,000 in 2026 because of a novel provision in her salary agreement called EPIC (“exceptional performance on initial contract”), which fast-tracks high-performing players to max and supermax deals.
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