Why are you a fan of the teams you love?

It sounds like a simple question, but the answer may reveal more about America than sports. For generations, loyalty to a team was rooted in geography. You cheered for the local club because it represented your city, your neighborhood, and your community. The Dodgers belonged to Brooklyn. The Broncos belonged to Denver. The Mariners belonged to Seattle.

But does that still hold true in the twenty-first century?

In this episode of Plausibly Live, Dave Bowman explores the changing nature of sports fandom in an era of fantasy leagues, social media, corporate ownership, and constant mobility. Why do we support the teams we support? Is it where we live, where we grew up, the players we admire, or simply the stories that captured our imagination as children?

Along the way, Dave dives into the growing controversy over taxpayer-funded stadiums, the ongoing battles involving franchises seeking new facilities, and whether fans should continue subsidizing billionaire owners. He also examines the fascinating ownership models used in Japanese baseball and Korean professional sports, asking whether America could ever adopt a similar approach.

From the Brooklyn Dodgers and Ebbets Field to the Denver Broncos, Philadelphia Flyers, and Seattle Mariners, this is a conversation about sports, identity, community, and what happens when the connection between a team and a place begins to fade.

It is a thought-provoking look at sports history, stadium politics, Major League Baseball, and the future of fandom itself.

There is something wonderfully old-fashioned about thisepisode. Not old in the sense of worn out, but old in the way a good highway diner is old, or the way a favorite ball cap becomes part of a man’s identity.

This is not a polished studio production wrapped in synthetic perfection. It is one man, a new recorder, a road stretching westward across the Hood Canal Bridge, and the quiet realization that sometimes the best conversations happenwhen nobody is trying too hard.

In this stream-of-consciousness drive along Highway 101toward the Sequim Irrigation Days Parade, Dave wanders through the strange landscape where technology, nostalgia, frustration, and simple beauty all collide.

One minute he is wrestling with computer equipment, Adobe Audition, and the financial gymnastics of avoiding a thousand-dollar computer purchase by spending hundreds on “solutions” that may not solve anything at all. The next, he is watching cloud-covered Olympic Mountains drift past the windshield while reflecting on why driving itself feels almost spiritual.

Along the way, there are thoughts about Washington State gasprices, climate politics, aging technology, self-driving cars, old software that still works better than modern replacements, and the unsettling possibility that future generations may view driving the way we now view horseback riding.

Mostly, though, this episode is about motion. About roads.About memory. About the small moments between destinations that somehow become the parts of life we remember most clearly. The Pacific Northwest rolls byoutside the window, and for a little while, you ride shotgun.

Afternoons Live with Dave and John from December 27, 2011

https://davidraybowman.com/2026/03/23/icebergs-are-no-danger/

Our story begins on the island of Pharos, where Menelaus sat stranded with treasure in his hull and no wind in his sails. He discovered the reason for his misery only when the old sea god revealed the truth. Menelaus had been so focused on gathering wealth that he forgot the sacrifice owed to the gods. His neglect trapped him. His arrogance stalled him. His failure of duty held him in place.

That ancient lesson fits our moment with uncomfortable precision. While Menelaus wrestled for a way forward, our own leaders seem content to count their gold on the shore. Two modern politicians have enriched themselves while forgetting the tribute owed to the Republic and to the people who sent them to serve. Their actions reveal capriciousness, not duty.

Today we will explore why this keeps happening and whether the nation still deserves better leadership.

Today we are heading into the marble halls of the United States Senate to trace the long, tangled story of the filibuster and the rule that was supposed to control it. From a mistake in 1806 to the crisis of 1917, from Strom Thurmond’s twenty-four-hour speech to the silent filibusters of today, the Senate has perfected the art of doing nothing at great length.

We will look at how cloture was born in wartime, how it was abused in the fight over civil rights, and how it finally became the 60-vote rule that defines modern gridlock. Along the way, we will ask the question that every frustrated citizen already knows the answer to: how did the world’s greatest deliberative body forget how to deliberate?

Thomas Paine wasn’t what you’d call a religious man, but he couldn’t escape the language of faith. In The American Crisis, he wrote of Providence—the hand of God guiding history—and he believed that God favored the cause of liberty over tyranny.

He saw divine justice not in miracles, but in moments: a sudden fog that saved the army, a storm that protected Washington’s retreat. He called these signs of Providence, the quiet proof that Heaven stands with those who fight for what’s right.

As a Chassid, I see it a little differently, but I understand him. Paine’s Providence is what we call hashgacha pratis, divine supervision—the belief that nothing happens by accident. Every hardship, every victory, every candle burning in the dark has purpose.

Faith in divine justice isn’t passive. It’s trust that God works through those who act with courage and righteousness. Paine believed it, and so do I.

In the darkest winter of the American Revolution, Thomas Paine wrote words that stirred a struggling people back to life. His essays, known as The American Crisis, called for unity and courage at a time when the cause of independence seemed doomed. Paine urged Americans to set aside their differences, stand together, and refuse to be ruled by fear.

He warned that division and apathy would only prolong their suffering, and that freedom could only be won through shared sacrifice and steadfast resolve. His words were not lofty speeches, but direct, heartfelt appeals to farmers, soldiers, and citizens alike.

In this episode, we explore how Paine’s call to unity helped transform a desperate army into a nation bound by purpose. His reminder still rings true today: liberty survives only when people have the courage to stand together, even when the world around them seems ready to fall apart.

In early 1776, Thomas Paine set fire to the old world with his pen. His pamphlet Common Sense didn’t just argue for American independence; it attacked the very idea of monarchy itself. Paine called King George III “the royal brute of Britain” and dismissed hereditary rule as absurd, insisting that no man was born to govern another.

He wrote in plain, direct language that ordinary people could understand, mocking the pomp and privilege of kings while reminding readers that real power belongs to the people. His words stripped away the illusion of divine right and exposed monarchy as a system built on fear and habit.

In this episode, we explore Paine’s fearless assault on tyranny, his scathing humor, and how his ideas helped ordinary colonists see themselves as citizens instead of subjects. Paine didn’t just challenge a king; he challenged an entire way of thinking—and changed the world forever.