From 200 million viewers to 8.6 million, how much helplessness is hidden behind the decline in NBA popularity?

Once upon a time, when I turned on the TV and adjusted it to the sports channel, the hustle and bustle of the NBA arena could instantly penetrate the screen. I was still in middle school when the Yao Shark battle was fought. The boys in the class squeezed in front of the old TV in the back row of the classroom. Watching Yao Ming hold back one rebound after another in front of O'Neal, the enamel cup on the desk was slammed. Later I learned that more than 200 million people in China were like us, guarding the screen and roaring for a goal. But what about now? Last week, I specially asked for a live broadcast of the finals. The number of people online in the lower right corner of the screen made me stunned for a long time: 8.6 million, which is not as much as Chairman Yao’s preseason game back then.

The star cabinet is empty half of the Jiangshan

I remember the first time I watched Jordan video tape was on my cousin's VCD machine. The man wearing No. 23 twisted it into a twist in the air. When he was stuck in the air, he didn't even flutter his jersey. Finally, he shook his wrist and entered. Later, when I read Kobe's biography, I realized that Los Angeles at 4 a.m. was not chicken soup, but proof that he grinds out the floor of the training hall. These people play ball with a sense of ruthlessness, just like the wild court in the alley in my hometown. You can see the traces of sweat thrown on the floor and hear the muffled sound of muscle collisions. But what about now? Doncic plays smartly and Tatum is also good at fighting, but they are like robots that are precisely debugged in the laboratory, with their hands raised from outside the three-point line, but they lack the wildness that makes you want to slap the table. I watched two games in this year's finals with a tough guts. Alexander always felt bad when he broke through. Halliburton passed the ball quickly, but the camera swept to the audience, and many people were looking down at the phone - the night Kobe scored 81 points, the audience stood and watched the fourth quarter.

When the three-pointer became an assembly line assignment

played with the serve last weekend, and he suddenly said that the NBA can't watch it now. In the past, we imitated O'Neal's back-to-back position, but now we have changed to running back from the three-point line. After checking the data, 42% of the league's shooting in the 2024-25 season were three-pointers, but the shooting percentage was only 35.7%. Once I saw the Warriors playing against the Celtics, and the whole game was like pressing the loop key: serving, passing the ball through the half, passing it to the bottom corner, and shooting the iron. In the past, O'Neal was in the interior, and Duncan used 45 degrees to make the defenders lose their temper. Now the referee's whistle is more frequent than the players. It sounds like a slight touch, and the game is broken like a trampled cookie. Once, my dad followed him and suddenly asked, "Why are you floating outside and no one is killing you?" I didn't know how to answer for a moment - the small ball tactics are fast, but they are as fast as takeaway assembly line, which lacks the taste of stewing old hens before.

Our attention was cut into pieces

Last month, my niece gave her a pair of Curry's signature shoes, but she pointed to her phone and said, "Uncle, I prefer to watch this." On the screen is a 30-second dunk collection in TikTok, accompanied by a dynamic BGM. How can children stay for three hours of live broadcasts nowadays? They finished the highlights of five games in ten minutes between classes, and solved the needs of watching the game just like eating fast noodles. Not to mention my cousin's group, I would rather crowd in an Internet cafe to watch the "League of Legends" finals on weekends than to touch the NBA live broadcast. Once asked why, he said, "Every game has new tricks, and the NBA has only a few tactics to turn around." This is heartbreaking, but when our entertainment methods become fragmented "ready-to-eat meals", who is willing to spend time making a pot of old soup? The schedule of the NBA is really worth changing. In 82 regular season games, anyone who plays will be exhausted. Last year, after watching James play back to back, the fatigue in his eyes could be seen through the screen. What’s even more annoying is the teams that are playing badly. They even send substitutes to the bench to waste time even though they know they can’t win. The audience spends money to buy tickets to watch the game, not to watch the actors read the lines. And every November, the NFL football game is in full swing, and Americans gather in front of the TV to watch the touchdown on weekends. Who cares if the NBA is the Finals? Let’s talk about our Chinese market. After that incident in 2019, many old fans have not recovered. My basketball club in college used to be able to fill the classroom when watching NBA live broadcasts. Now, I am shooting the screen and watching games, and the people present can count one hand.

Ending: Does the NBA really need "plastic surgery"?

Some people say that the NBA has to change, follow the rhythm of short videos and cut the game into ten minutes; some people say that they stick to tradition and fight back against confrontation and tactics. But I always wonder: What are we missing when we discuss the decline of the NBA? Is it Jordan's heartbeat in the finale, or Kobe's tears in the curtain call? Perhaps what really makes us lose is not the decline in the audience numbers, but the youth that can make us go crazy all night for a goal, which is being left behind by the express train of the times. The NBA is like an old guy who wants to please everyone, but I forgot what fascinated us at first was its imperfect blood - just like the wild court in the alley, without the exquisite three-point line, only sweat, collision and the spirit of never giving in.