How wonderful for Kash Patel to be surrounded by his compatriots and be unwittingly crass enough to turn a triumph into an embarrassment

Milan is a city characterised by what Italians know as sprezzatura (effortless elegance) and bella figura (making a good impression). But, somewhere in Italy’s sleek, fast-paced heartbeat—in one locker room, to be exact—someone did not catch a mirror. America’s urbane FBI director Kash Patel was celebrating his nation’s gold Olympic win in ice hockey after being “invited” to where the athletes change. In a stunning display of participation-trophy energy taken to its logical extreme, viral footage has revealed our affable protagonist exuberantly enjoying the victory he clearly won in his own mind. A breathtaking performance: It was truly inspiring to see someone so unburdened by the weight of actual achievement. Mr Patel flew 6,800 kilometers on a tax payer-funded private jet in anticipation of and to partake in this jubilant excess. Like most good Indian boys who do their mothers proud, a true hockey fan he is, and a boisterous one.

It was a poignant moment of self-appointed glory, as he gallantly roared with the team, proving that years of grueling training or on-ice talent can he scant when you want to be the rowdiest person in the room. So many Americans must have been cheering with him, proud that in the world of sports, training is optional, talent is negotiable, and volume is victory. Self-awareness-as-filter in a communications era of filters is really an obstacle. Indeed, there is something truly avant-garde about wearing a team jersey to be one of the boys and beer spraying in what is essentially space owned by the Milanese. The long-sleeved T-shirt Mr Patel wore as his own was a team garment, not from his own label K$H. It sported three letters of the alphabet: U.S.A.—now without the cachet it once had, even on an ardent supporter of the winners. Perhaps, what was more notable was the Swoosh on the right side of his chest that he had struck with curious pride.

Who would have guessed that the FBI director took Nike’s beautifully concise slogan to heart: Just Do It. And he sure did. Or the visual cue that is the Swoosh—a tick to mark off items on a list: drink beer, chug it, shoot it. How enviable it was that the Swoosh got a front-row view of the actions, of a FBI director jumping with such court-side elation and banging a table with such feral vigour. Nike’s presence at the Winter Olympics is not just to support a home team, but also to strengthen its own declining brand might. Mr Patel was reportedly wearing an All Conditions Gear (ACG) T-shirt. Nike’s 2026 strategy in Milan is centered on Radical AirFlow (and technical jackets, such as the Air Milano, which inflate at the touch of a button), essentially as a pinnacle brand that appeals to real athletes rather than a lifestyle label for Washington elites or regular influencers. He wore a top from the 36-year-old ACG, introduced by Nike in the U.S. when Mr Patel was nine. His behaviour, now much viewed online, also captured the spirit of ACG: Stay Wild. Perfect for the wilderness of a locker room mosh pit.

Nike must be just as jubilant to see the FBI director wearing their T-shirt and behaving so fetchingly as he relived jock culture. He has showed what wild could be, even when he was not on the Orobic Alps—end point of Nike’s marketing activation during the Games, the All Conditions Express, finally contrasted with Mr Patel’s All Conditions Excess. There must have been immense satisfaction for Nike to see the prestige boost that came with a man of accumulated seasons wearing their T-shirt and showing such athleticism with a beer bottle. Nike is currently engaged in a high-stakes, multi-billion dollar back-to-seriousness campaign, trying to convince the world that they are the gear of elite performance and disciplined craft. And FBI director Patel is the perfect unpaid ambassador for the brand. Nike’s ads insist that their gear is forged in sweat, discipline, and relentless training. Mr Patel’s marvelous Milan cameo rewrites that script: no ice time, no drills, no craft, just volume, chest‑pounding, and a borrowed gold medal. In Milan, that must be such a moda high, the peak of cosplay sports. Kristi Noem must be so clinically jealous now.

While Mr Patel was busy roaring in Milan, Nike was—and still is—under pressures at home and internationally. In the U.S., Donald Trump had enthusiastically announced a new 15% global import tax, following a weekend of trade policy chaos. Nike, already bleeding from an estimated US$1.5 billion annualized hit from earlier tariffs, is one of the most exposed companies in the world. While tariffs are stripping the average American wallet down to its polyester lining, a few select officials remain comfortably insulated in the cashmere-lined vacuum of their own indifference. The FBI director likely got his T-Shirt for free, like his plane ride to Milan. He did not feel the punch of levies. While he jumped euphorically in the ‘USA’ shirt, the administration he represents is dismantling, again, the very supply chains that keep that Swoosh buoyant. In East Asia, once the brand’s crown jewel, the allure is vanishing. Nike’s Greater China sales have plunged 17% as local consumers pivot toward 国货 (guohuo) or domestic brands that do not carry the baggage of export-grade American rowdiness. His is the best face—and paunch—for Nike, whose apparent demographic now is not-young men who peak in locker-room gusto and love their tees beer-irrigated.

Witnessing the sheer heroism required to spray beer at elite athletes while wearing a gold medal you didn’t actually skate for is devastating ironic. In many ways, Mr Patel is the walking silhouette of his bureau’s leadership, strikingly embodying the trickle-down indifference currently trending in the DOJ. He later shared on his socials that his behaviour was an expression of his love for America. To be sure, we’re not flattening the players’ win. But how did a moment of solidarity turn into the crassness that undermined the dignity of the occasion? Or become a display of one of the Trump administration’s most visible ‘ambassadors’ acting like a man who just discovered fermented hops and a table-as-punching-bag? Sure, the locker room in sports serves as hub for camaraderie, but it is also, critically, a private sanctum for those who paid the price in sweat, for building team chemistry, morale, and a shared, winning identity. Kash Patel, behaving like a willing victim of fraternity hazing or an undergrad let loose for spring break, is hardly a winning streak. This was not sports-victory glamour. More like wholesale American clamour.

Screen shots: msnow/YouTube