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The words of Ted Sarandos strike like a prophecy for our age: “I think what’s going to happen with linear television is it’s going to become more linear. It’s going to become more about events and more about award shows, live sports — all those things that, really, you can’t replicate.” In these words, the architect of modern streaming unveils a vision of the future — that the old ways of television, once dominant in every home, will no longer be sustained by endless programming, but by those few moments that thrive only in their immediacy: the live, the unrepeatable, the communal.

The meaning of this statement lies in the recognition of what endures. As on-demand streaming grows, giving every viewer the power to watch what they wish, when they wish, the ordinary shows that once filled the schedules of linear television lose their grip. What remains valuable are those things that cannot be paused, delayed, or consumed later — events that demand presence, that gather millions at the same time, that unite strangers in a single moment. These are the rituals of modern culture: the championship game, the award ceremony, the breaking news.

The origin of Sarandos’ insight rests in the digital transformation of entertainment. As chief of Netflix, he has overseen the great migration from scheduled broadcasting to on-demand streaming. Yet even as streaming conquers, he sees the realm where it cannot tread: the realm of the live. A film may wait for you; a series may rest in your queue. But the World Cup final will not pause until tomorrow. The Oscars, the Grammys, the Super Bowl — these are not mere shows, but ceremonies, performances of time itself, unfolding once and never again.

History has seen this truth before. The ancient Greeks flocked to the Olympic Games, not because they could not hear who won, but because the event itself — the gathering, the spectacle, the immediacy — was the treasure. In Rome, gladiatorial contests drew crowds not only for combat, but for the shared experience of the moment. No messenger’s report, no later retelling, could equal being present in the arena. So too, Sarandos teaches, will the last stronghold of television be in those spectacles that must be lived as they happen, or not at all.

This wisdom also speaks to the hunger of the human soul. We are creatures of story, yes, but also creatures of ritual. We long for experiences that connect us to others in real time. When millions cheer at the same moment, whether in stadiums or in living rooms, a thread of unity binds them. That is why live sports still command such power, why award shows — however criticized — still draw attention: they are moments of communion, windows when time is shared.

The lesson is that in a world overflowing with choices, it is the unrepeatable that becomes precious. The more we can watch at will, the more value is placed on what cannot be delayed. For our own lives, the teaching is clear: do not seek only the permanent, the repeatable. Cherish the fleeting — the conversation at dawn, the laughter at dinner, the game played once and never again. In their very passing lies their meaning.

So let us hear Sarandos’ words as more than industry foresight. Let us remember that the events of life, like the events of television, are irreplaceable. Do not delay the moments that matter. Do not postpone joy, or think that love can be replayed tomorrow. Like live sports, like the great ceremonies of nations, life itself unfolds once, and cannot be replicated. Therefore, be present, be awake, and when the moment comes, embrace it fully — for it will not come again.