"Well, for some people, it is," Ben pointed out. "There's a handful of teams whose sponsors don't know their — well," he said, stopping just short of saying something a bit vulgar. "They don't know what they're doing. Some rich folks treat Quidditch teams like something you just buy if you feel like it. Like buying a horse, or a pack of hunting dogs." Those were good analogies, Ben thought, because both of those were also things that might take a good deal of work. He was reasonably good with animals and had done some freelance work on a farm, so he knew what it took to care for and properly train a horse or a dog. That didn't stop people with enough money from just purchasing them on a whim, though, and handing off all of the actual work involved to some servant. Some Quidditch teams were sponsored the same way — the sponsor's name went on the team and then everything else was handed over to a manager or left to the discretion of the coach.

"I don't think those are the best sorts of teams," he added jokingly. It might work out in theory if the coach really knew what they were doing, and had the autonomy to make it happen, but since the sponsors were responsible for choosing and hiring the coach he didn't think it was a frequent occurrence. Usually, those sorts of teams just had a few mediocre years before someone more suited to the sponsor role stepped in.