Every Day Is Sunday

The smell of charcoal grills firing up fills the morning air, a haze of smoke and anticipation rising over the manicured lawns. It’s a ritual just as sacred as a holiday. Kids in oversized jerseys toss footballs in the street, mimicking the heroes they’ll soon see. Inside, kitchens are a blur of activity—brats simmering in beer, crock-pots full of chili, and trays of green and gold desserts lining the counters. This is the weekly mobilization of an entire community, a synchronized rhythm of devotion that has been passed down through generations. The game itself is just the crescendo; the real performance is this town-wide transformation, where every driveway becomes a tailgate and every neighbor a teammate.

This deep, almost spiritual connection between a team and its town is a rare phenomenon in the modern, commercialized world of professional sports. It’s a connection that journalist Ken Belson, a veteran reporter for The New York Times, felt compelled to understand on a deeper level. Having covered everything from the NFL's billion-dollar deals to the quiet tragedies of player injuries, Belson recognized that what was happening in Green Bay was different. It was about identity. To truly capture it, he embedded himself in the community for the entire 2010 season, following not just the players on the field but the fans whose lives are inextricably woven into the fabric of the Green Bay Packers.

Module 1: The Architects of the Modern NFL

The NFL's transformation from a struggling sports league into a cultural juggernaut wasn't an accident. It was engineered by a new breed of owner who saw the league as a platform for aggressive business innovation. Two figures stand out: Jerry Jones of the Dallas Cowboys and Robert Kraft of the New England Patriots.

Jones is the ultimate disruptor. He bought the Cowboys in 1989 with a high-risk leveraged buyout and immediately started challenging league norms. While other owners followed a "league-first" model, Jones saw his team as a brand to be monetized. He pioneered team-specific sponsorships, directly challenging the NFL's exclusive partners. Jones signed deals with Pepsi, Nike, and American Express, even when the league had contracts with Coke, Reebok, and Visa. This led to a massive lawsuit from the NFL. But Jones won. The settlement allowed teams to keep more local marketing revenue, a change that ultimately enriched every franchise. He treated the Cowboys brand like "peanut butter," smearing it on everything from stadium tours to a hologram of himself, "Virtual Jerry," at AT&T Stadium.

Robert Kraft represents a different style of power. Where Jones is a maverick salesman, Kraft is a master consensus-builder. His genius lies in diplomacy and strategic patience. He acquired the Patriots by methodically buying the stadium and its surrounding parking lots. This gave him control of the team's lease, forcing a sale and allowing him to purchase the franchise for a record $172 million in 1994. Kraft excels at finding middle ground between warring factions. This was never more evident than during the 2011 NFL lockout. With the season on the line, Kraft, despite his wife's terminal illness, stepped in to mediate between hardline owners and the players' union. His famous hug with player representative Jeff Saturday on the courthouse steps symbolized the breakthrough that saved the season. While Jones breaks the rules to create value, Kraft builds the coalitions that keep the entire enterprise from falling apart.

Module 2: Forging a Financial Empire

The NFL's financial dominance rests on two pillars: a landmark labor deal and a revolutionary approach to media rights. Together, they created a system of shared prosperity that turned team ownership into a license to print money.

It all started in 1993. The league was mired in lawsuits and labor strikes. Players wanted free agency. Owners feared financial chaos. The turning point was a jury ruling that found the NFL's rules illegally restricted players' careers. Facing over a billion dollars in potential damages, the owners were forced to the negotiating table.

This led to a groundbreaking agreement. The 1993 labor deal created a partnership model between owners and players. The deal introduced two critical components. First, free agency for players. Second, a hard salary cap for teams. This cap, a strict limit on player spending, was the "helmet" that protected owners from their own worst impulses. It prevented runaway spending and ensured competitive balance. The result was a decade of labor peace. It allowed the league to grow without the constant threat of work stoppages.

Building on that idea, the league needed to fund this new economic model. The answer was television. In December 1993, the NFL's media strategy changed forever. A group of aggressive new owners, led by Jerry Jones, decided to break up the cozy relationship with incumbent networks like CBS. They wanted a bidding war. And they found their bidder in Rupert Murdoch.

Murdoch's Fox network was a fledgling fourth player. It had no sports division. But Murdoch saw the NFL as a "battering ram" to build his entire network. Fox's 'win-at-all-costs' bid for NFL rights fundamentally reset the sports media landscape. Fox bid an astonishing $1.58 billion over four years, a number designed to make CBS "choke." They did. CBS lost the rights it had held for decades. The deal transformed Fox into a major network. More importantly, it supercharged the NFL's revenue. The influx of cash from Fox and subsequent media deals funded soaring player salaries and new stadiums. It cemented the league's place as must-see TV, making it the most valuable content in entertainment.