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Last January, Todd Lansky was in the stands of Levi’s Stadium in Santa Clara, Calif., with his son Tyler before the Detroit Lions’ most momentous N.F.L. game in about a half-century. The Lions were about to face the San Francisco 49ers in the N.F.C. Championship Game when Mr. Lansky’s phone buzzed.
Mr. Lansky, 53, is a lawyer by day. By night, he runs a fan-geared merchandise company called Detroit Army out of his Chicago-area home — a passion project that he thought was gaining some traction at around the time when the Lions, formerly woebegone, were making their playoff push last season.
Amid a torrent of texts and missed calls, Mr. Lansky realized what had happened: Dan Campbell, the Lions’ head coach, had worn one of Mr. Lansky’s Detroit Army trucker hats in a televised pregame interview with Michael Strahan of Fox Sports.
It turned out to be a tough day for the Lions, who ran up an early lead before collapsing in the second half. But at least Mr. Lansky came away with a win: Detroit Army received 379 orders in three minutes after Mr. Strahan’s interview aired.
“That number,” Mr. Lansky said, “is etched in stone.”
For a team that had been almost synonymous with loss and frustration for decades, and a fan base used to being on the receiving end of sports-talk mockery, rising to the top of the N.F.L. and having a grassroots clothing line has led to what once seemed an unlikely feeling: Being a Lions fan is cool.
Just as unlikely as the Lions’ rise was that of Detroit Army. Without the benefit of a licensing deal with any professional teams or leagues, it still managed to nudge its way into the hypercompetitive sports apparel market. It happened thanks to Mr. Lansky’s enthusiasm for the work; an assist from his 21-year-old daughter, Zoey; and the serendipitous involvement of Mr. Campbell, a popular coach whose surging Lions are back in the playoffs this season, this time as Super Bowl favorites.
“It’s a labor of love,” Mr. Lansky said.
The brand, he said, has everything to do with his affection for Detroit, where he grew up before attending college in Indiana and moving to Chicago for law school. Once in Chicago, he found that his social circle largely consisted of fellow Detroit expats. It was a lesson: You can take the person out of Detroit, but you can’t take Detroit out of the person.
“If you run into someone from Detroit,” he said, “no matter where you are, there’s this instant bond.”
In 2007, Mr. Lansky was preparing for a weekend retreat to play in a recreational basketball tournament with several friends who were also natives of Detroit.
That team needed a name, and Detroit Army was born.
A few years later, Mr. Lansky created a logo for the team — Detroit Army’s Old English “D” was inspired by the Detroit Tigers’ logo — and had jerseys printed. It was a fun diversion for a self-described “gear guy” who used to make T-shirts for his college fraternity.
But Mr. Lansky soon branched out beyond jerseys. He began sending Detroit Army sweatshirts, T-shirts and baseball caps to friends as gifts. For Mother’s Day one year, a large number of women in his family received camouflage sweatpants.
Still, it was not a business — not yet — even though Mr. Lansky had “Detroit Army” trademarked in 2016. He had a demanding job as the managing partner of a credit and collections law firm, and he had trouble grasping the idea of moonlighting as the sole employee of a start-up apparel brand.
But he always believed that Detroit Army could grow into something more. His gear tapped into the sense of community that he felt among fellow Detroiters, he said, and it seemed only a matter of time before he would be able to “move beyond just giving away free merch.”
The turning point came in June 2021. Mr. Lansky’s trademark was in danger of lapsing, and his daughter, Zoey, staged an intervention. Detroit Army deserved more of his attention.
“Dad,” she recalled telling him, “this is getting out of hand.”
It was time, in other words, for Mr. Lansky to turn his fun little hobby into a business. He knew that Detroit Army needed a webpage. His daughter informed him that it needed an Instagram account too.
There was just one problem.
“He didn’t really know what he was doing,” Ms. Lansky said.
So, before she left for her first year at Ohio State University, Ms. Lansky became her father’s instructor. The course was Instagram 101. She showed him how to create a profile. She explained the difference between a post and a story. She demonstrated the importance of proper lighting.
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