The insult of being dismissed as a declining commercial brand has morphed into an unintended compliment. The club now functions less as a traditional team chasing trophies and more as a live laboratory for global fandom under persistent underperformance on the pitch.
At the core is a brand architecture that decouples emotional investment from sporting output. The club sells narrative density instead of dependable success: heritage, shared suffering, and a clear villain in the form of unpopular ownership. This creates a low baseline of expectation, a kind of emotional homeostasis, so that every minor win feels like outsized reward rather than a return to a statistical mean.
Digital platforms amplify this effect. Social feeds and fan forums convert disappointment into memes, in-jokes, and portable identity signals that travel across borders. The result is a self-reinforcing entropy increase in content: the worse the results, the more material fans have to process collectively, and the more visible their allegiance becomes to friends, colleagues, and algorithms.
Commercial partners read this loyalty not as irrationality but as a reliable marginal effect: a fan base that continues to buy shirts, subscribe to streaming packages, and debate line-ups, even when titles feel remote. The club, once mocked as an empty brand shell, now stands as a case study in how belonging can outcompete winning as the engine of global sports business.