My Two-Cents: Modern Branding + Barstool Sports

Modern Branding

The current climate of brand marketing is an ever-changing, tumultuous one. At first glance, it would seem like an odd topic for someone with no current skin in the marketing game. But at second glance, we all have skin in the marketing game.

Even if we ignore it, brand marketing constantly targets us. And this reach has only expanded in the past decade through mainstream social media. Everywhere we glance, someone is trying to sell us something. But now it's not just products – it's values, identities, affiliations, and emotional narratives. Marketing has evolved from the simple "buy this, it's good" to "buy this because it says something about who you are."

At first, this felt refreshing. Brands began supporting causes we cared about. They became relatable. More and more posted unfiltered selfies and celebrated body positivity, mental health awareness, and social justice. However, as time passed, this new branding reached the saturation point. Every product was a movement, and every brand had some mission unrelated to the product itself – and things started to unravel. In a world where every brand tried to stand out, they all started to look the same. The tactics that once felt progressive and personal, began to feel calculated and performative. Marketing teams began to take advantage of our desires, and in turn, of us. 

As Syndrome says in The Incredibles:

"When everyone is super, no one will be."

And when every brand is progressive, edgy, inclusive, sustainable, transparent, funny, and trauma-informed – it's hard to know which ones mean it, and which ones just hired a good copywriter.

Now that the facade of values-based marketing has overfilled our cups, the stage is set for a revamp. What's next? What do we really want? Brands that lean into being themselves! Brands not trying to be all things to all people and perfect -- but rather consistent, grounded, and real.

These premises are explored in Simon Sinek's The Infinite Game, where he argues that great companies succeed through playing the long game; they don't pivot every time the cultural wind shifts. They know who they are and stay committed, regardless of a desire for universal approval. Sinek's book refers to this idea as anchoring to a "Just Cause" – a long-term vision so deeply rooted in purpose that it guides every decision, even when it's unpopular or unprofitable in the short term. Brands like Patagonia embody this. They've stayed fiercely aligned with their environmental mission, even turning away from partnerships that didn't fit their values. That consistency builds unwavering trust, not short-term sales and promos that saturate our feed. On the flip side, companies like Kodak serve as cautionary tales. Kodak had the technology for digital photography years before its competitors, but clung to the short-term profits of film. The key difference in these brands is that one failed to adapt, or course correct. In an infinite game (a hat-tip to economic game theory), that's what kills you. 

How Barstool Sports Fits in

Barstool Sports is a perfect example of a company learning to play the infinite game. Barstool grew by owning its identity in its early days: raunchy, frat-house humor wrapped in sports commentary. It wasn't for everyone, and that was the point. Not everyone likes Patagonia, and not everyone likes Barstool Sports. But not everyone needs a new winter coat, and not everyone loves college sports. So Barstool spoke directly to a specific audience and didn't apologize for it. But as the brand grew in popularity, it began to change. It veered into TMZ territory, chasing celebrity drama and influencer culture to expand its reach. But here's the thing: we didn't want another TMZ. We just wanted Barstool to be fucking Barstool! The brand you followed because it felt like a chaotic group chat during college football season. And when Barstool stepped too far outside its brand, fans responded by starting to disengage. The company had lost its center. But it’s making a key move — it’s course-correcting. It’s leaning back into its roots of sports, humor, chaos, and unfiltered takes, allowing itself to feel more aligned than in years. Barstool realized that Barstool does best when it leans into its best niche – being at the center of covering college sports. 

The Long-Term Consequences of Public Scrutiny

In our current branding market climate, there is one more layer in the pie: the consequences of endless scrutiny. If we keep expecting influencers, celebrities, and public figures to be perfect at all times — polished, progressive, poised, and PR-approved — we're going to create a world of content that sucks. And it's already happening. We're inching closer to a cultural collapse where everything we consume is so bland, sanitized, and fearfully curated that it's completely detached from anything resembling a real human experience. What happens when we turn every moment into a minefield and every public figure into either a villain or a deity? When we expect perfection? We destroy creativity. We kill humor. We neuter originality. Saying anything un-algorithmically optimized for safety becomes terrifying.

This terror is the consequence of our actions; we must stop putting celebrities and influencers on pedestals. They're not spiritual leaders. They're not inherently wiser than us. They're just people lucky enough (or loud enough) to be handed a platform. That doesn't mean we shouldn't hold them accountable when they cause real harm. We should. But there has to be a middle ground between canceling someone for a misstep and worshipping them for a curated personality. That middle ground is called reality. When we offer forgiveness and stop demanding robotic perfection, people are likelier to give us content that feels alive, unfiltered, flawed, and honest.

That's one of the reasons Barstool is still relevant. Regardless of what you think of Dave Portnoy — whether you find him entertaining, annoying, or a complete asshole — he doesn't play by the PR apology handbook. He doesn't read from a Notes app script while pretending to cry. He doesn't coat every statement in 17 layers of corporate-approved fluff. He says it. Often too bluntly. Often poorly. But honestly. And that's a big part of what's kept Barstool in its niche. It feels human. Messy, loud, and far from perfect — but unapologetically itself. That's the kind of branding that cuts through the noise. They’re not trying to satisfy everyone, but rather satisfy their niche.

If brands want to survive this next marketing era, they don't need to be flawless, they need to be real. They course-correct back into their original purpose before it’s too late. And if we, as consumers, want content that doesn't make our brains melt from boredom, we need to let people be human again.