'Why had Amazon gone to such lengths to airbrush itself from its own live broadcast? Perhaps because, on some level, it is banking on the fact we don’t really care who is showing our live football. That this jostling marketplace of corporate branding largely goes over our heads. And for a new player with an established core business, the low‑key approach certainly appears to favour it: come for the Merseyside derby, stay for a set of kettlebells and the new Jack Reacher...
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This, in many ways, is how Amazon implants itself in our lives: subtly, seamlessly, insidiously. It appears and it disappears at the same time. First it takes over your bookshelf. Then your music player. Then your food cupboard and the items in your drawers. Then your evenings in front of the television. Self-worth gets delivered promptly to your door within one working day. It’s all so easy, so frictionless, you don’t notice the 30-day trial you forgot to cancel, the data you’re giving away for free, the factory workers denied toilet breaks, the small high street bookshop with closing down signs in the windows.
In many ways, it’s a form of sportswashing as stealthy and cynical as any nation-state could dream up. Like any large corporation trying to monetise your love of football, Amazon is not doing this for love of the game. Football is the conduit, the glossy leafleting campaign, the free cheese samples, the sweets placed tantalisingly by the till.'