All week, Mr. Butts has been thinking of his late father, who moved from North Carolina to Los Angeles in the middle of the last century, in search of a better future.

“Not only did he not want to be a sharecropper, he didn’t want his children to grow up with such limited opportunities,” said Mr. Butts, who recalled his father taking him to see the Rams at the Coliseum in the 1960s. “And he told me that. He said, ‘I had no interest in being a sharecropper. And I had no interest in working in a sawmill in Wilmington.’”

Meanwhile, as visitors fly in to Los Angeles, once they finish gawking at the sight of SoFi, they may, if they squint their eyes as they approach the runway, see a red tent just outside the airport’s perimeter.

The tent is the home of a middle-aged man named Eugene, who has lived on the streets for two years. Like many Black Angelenos, he grew up in South Los Angeles, left as a teenager to suburbs in the north of the county, and came back. He had recently packed his belongings, because the previous night police officers told him he needed to move away from construction in the area.

“I’ll probably go to the next block until they tell me I can’t be there,” he said.

He said he hoped to watch the Super Bowl, perhaps at a sports bar in Venice. Then he went into his tent for a moment, and returned holding a jersey of Eric Dickerson, the former Rams superstar.

“I already know who’s going to win,” he said.

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