Networking is often used to justify the initiation tax of joining a fraternity or sorority. I’m auditing the data on everything from GPA drops to the 45% risk of alcohol use disorder. Learn why the networking benefit is often just a pre-existing advantage showing up under a different name.

In 2026, “respect people regardless of title” isn’t thought leadership. This article breaks down why these posts are empty, who they’re really for, and what to actually say in the room when disrespect happens.

The Diamond League looks like a season, but three forces still run pro track: the calendar, uneven local money, and negotiated participation. Here’s why “best vs best” stays optional and why league outcomes require league control.

Noah Lyles sparked an NBA meltdown by stating a literal fact: “world champion” is a structural title, not a compliment. This piece breaks down the definition, the backlash, and the real difference between greatness and governance.

“My dad went a little wild at Agent Provocateur” is a sentence that shouldn’t exist on the internet, but it does. It’s also a perfect example of what happens when a youth platform goes mainstream and adult incentives take over.

The Diamond League isn’t a broken league. It’s a “league” that can’t enforce anything, because the deal that created it protected meet autonomy over centralized control. Part 2 breaks down how a global rebrand and a big sponsorship check made the product look more unified without changing the structure that keeps it behaving like a circuit.

This article examines why Grand Slam Track (GST) 1.0 failed and lays out a blueprint for GST 2.0. It argues that instead of building another league, the sport needs an Operating System that centralizes discovery, data, and fan engagement to make track and field self-sustaining and profitable.

Anastasia Beverly Hills was a cult favorite until a $650M debt-laden investment from TPG forced rapid growth, compromised product quality, and tanked customer trust. Learn why misaligned capital can quietly rewrite how a company operates long before it shows up on the P&L.

World Athletics governs track & field with authority and legitimacy. But governing the sport is not the same as stewarding professional athletes. This article examines how World Athletics indirectly controls access to professional opportunity while leaving athlete careers structurally unsupported and why that stewardship gap is becoming harder to ignore.

World Athletics tightly governs eligibility, rankings, and competition access across Track & Field. What it does not clearly define is where its responsibility to athletes begins or ends. This article examines how that boundary is implied through system design rather than stated outright, and what happens to athletes when support quietly disappears while regulation remains.

Every few years, someone looks at track’s chaos and says, “Easy. Build a league.” Then the sport does what it always does: prioritize championships, outsource risk to promoters, and let the pro season run like a freelance marketplace. That isn’t a glitch. It’s the design. Athletics is two overlapping systems with two different goals, and calling everything a “league” just hides the real structural conflict.

Track money talk usually focuses on the visible checks: shoe contracts, meet invites, prize money, federations. The missing player is often World Athletics, even though it controls the rules, calendar, and eligibility standards that decide what “counts” and who gets access to opportunity. When WA can delay transfers with a waiting period or set reimbursement and accommodation standards, it’s shaping athlete cash flow and leverage without ever signing a paycheck.

Everyone keeps blaming influencers for being out of touch, but the bigger question is: who made them powerful in the first place, and who’s still feeding the machine? Social media has trained us to treat people as content and then act entitled to constant access, even in real life.

The idea that inclusivity in beauty started in 2017 is a nice story. It’s also wrong. Shade range existed long before Fenty, but access didn’t. Fenty’s real impact wasn’t a moral awakening. It was proving that inclusivity could be operationalized at scale and that ignoring customers had a revenue cost.

Becca Bloom isn’t an influencer “success story.” She’s a case study in power. When someone with money, access, and a real career still chooses to build a massive audience, the audience is the asset. This isn’t about brand deals or validation. It’s influence infrastructure, built in public while everyone else is distracted by the lifestyle.

Sebastian Coe called the Enhanced Games “bollocks,” labeled potential participants “moronic,” and threatened long bans. That’s not a moral stance. That’s control. If World Athletics can police where athletes compete, it doesn’t get to pretend athlete income has nothing to do with them. Control without a replacement plan is just governance cosplay