ESPN announced a streaming service today, because apparently the couch has opinions about quarterly reports too. The move is pitched as fan empowerment, though insiders say the real objective is turning every living room into a data-collection lab.

In a briefing that sounded more like a product launch than a press conference, executives billed cord-cutting as a heroic rite of passage for grown-ups. Fans will now pay to prove they can stream 24/7 without ever watching the thing they were promised.

The new service promises flexibility, but the real pitch is a labyrinth of add-ons, free trials, and terms so long that your popcorn could go stale waiting for them to end. Tech experts warn that with each tier, the loading icon gains a PhD.

The launch video features a mascot named Buffering who reappears exactly when you need him most, then vanishes the moment you realize you left the house to fetch the router’s update.

ESPN insists this is about putting the game in your hands, not about squeezing every last bit of profit from your streaming habit. Analysts say the ambition here is scale and data, not loyalty, which is the opposite of what most fans signed up for.

The platform is expected to harvest watch histories, pauses, and snack choices to tailor ads that arrive with the exact cadence of a commercial break you didn’t request. Critics worry that the most thrilling moment will be a pop-up asking you to rate your will to continue.

Fans are told to prepare for a new normal where the ‘buy now’ button is louder than the crowd at the stadium. Some veteran cord-cutters celebrate the spectacle, others vow to never forgive the remote.

Manufacturers of smart TVs breathed a sigh of relief as ESPN promises compatibility with a wide range of devices, from antique CRTs to the latest voice-controlled coffee makers.

To navigate the new ecosystem, ESPN is nudging consumers to upgrade their home theater, ideally with the ‘best streaming device 4K’ that can survive endless reboots and at least three maze-like login prompts.

Marketing materials quietly suggest a procurement shortcut for the budget-conscious: search for the ‘best cheap streaming stick’ and pretend you bought the premium model.

Pricing tiers are described as ‘flexible’ and ‘transparent,’ though the transparency extends to the part where you realize you signed up for three separate subscriptions, a warranty on the screen, and a loyalty program that tracks your snack purchases.

ESPN assures viewers that ad breaks will be contextual and painless, provided you enjoy watching car insurance overlays between kickoffs. If not, there’s always the option to upgrade to a tier that promises ‘ad-free’ experiences, with a season-long commitment.

Sportswriters are already drafting headlines about the streaming era, with many predicting more replays than actual games and more pop-up tips than halftime shows. One analyst described the platform as ‘a living, breathing QVC for your living room’.

The app is marketed as the ultimate fan portal, yet the first test run showed that buffering is the true mascot of this era. Engineers promise updates will arrive faster than a referee’s judgment, which is to say never.

Cable cutters gather in online forums to toast the irony of an all-in-one service that requires dozens of separate passwords. They vow to turn their frustrations into memes and perhaps a highly-rated rerun of an old playoff game.

ESPN claims the strategy centers on control, reach, and a newfound respect for squarely mid-season scheduling adjustments. Fans respond by reorganizing their living rooms into war rooms dedicated to placement of furniture and streaming devices.

Social media hums with jokes about signing in on every device, as if the remote itself has tenure and job security. The company, meanwhile, insists this is progress, and progress needs quarterly updates you didn’t ask for.

Play-by-play commentators will be asked to pronounce sponsor messages between breaths, turning every whistle into a sponsored moment and every cheer into a revenue opportunity. The stream, meanwhile, continues to remix the classic ‘limitless enthusiasm, limited reliability’ mantra.

Support chat scripts read like modern folklore: have you tried turning it off and on again, then turning it off again for good measure? Users report that reboot rituals now rival pre-game rituals in duration and complexity.

Rights negotiations are heating up as ESPN hopes to monetize every second of broadcast time, including crowd reactions and the tempo of the towel waves. The entertainment industry nods approvingly, while households practice patience as a sport.

Despite the chaos, the new service has found a place in the pantheon of modern inconveniences, right between loading screens and the moment you realize your snack bowl is empty.

Note: this is satire, not a real ESPN manifesto, but it captures the syntax of a world where a streaming service is pitched as liberation while selling you more screens to stare at.