How Nike Built Its Brand — At the NBA’s Expense
The NBA season starts on Tuesday, which means we’ll soon see the annual batch of forgettable new uniforms. Since taking over as the league’s uniform supplier in 2017, Nike has thoroughly overhauled its uniform model. NBA uniforms, once defined by relative continuity, are now templates for experimentation. Nike has used its NBA uniform deal to advance its own brand, but at a serious cost to teams’ brands.
The 2015 deal between Nike and the NBA immediately discarded decades of tradition. Nike became the first uniform sponsor to place its logo on team jerseys, a move it’s followed with its subsequent MLB jersey deal. More notably, Nike replaced the traditional home, away, and alternate options with a rotating set of four uniforms: the Icon edition, the Association edition, the City edition, and the Statement edition. While the Icon and Association uniforms tend to last several seasons, most teams switch up their City and Statement jerseys annually.
In some regards, Nike’s stint as the league’s jersey supplier has been remarkably successful. Having its logo on jerseys gives Nike additional brand visibility (as if the company needed it). And the rotating uniform set gives teams greater opportunity for creativity and innovation. Instead of investing in an alternate that they could be stuck with for years, teams are free to experiment on an annual basis. If the jersey’s a bust, the team can switch up its design next year. If the jersey’s a hit, they can bring it back or adopt a similar style. Theoretically, Nike’s flexible model is a good deal for teams.
But the fleeting nature of Nike uniforms carries some overlooked downside. Maximizing the Nike model’s potential — and the jersey sales that come with it — means switching up alternates annually. That’s led teams that might otherwise stick with their alternates to attempt a compromise: changing their jerseys every season while sticking with the same broad uniform concept. The Heat’s Miami Vice series, once a fresh new alternate concept, has grown increasingly stale despite the team’s introduction of new uniforms every year. By simply switching the uniform’s primary colors every year and keeping the design, the Heat tried to balance timelessness with innovation. They ended up with neither.
While the Nike uniforms may be a boon for jersey sales, the Heat’s example shows that they’re a significant obstacle for brand development. The entire point of alternate uniforms is to provide an extension of the brand — a space for experimentation and innovation. But a brand is more than a logo, and it’s more than a color scheme. It’s a comprehensive, instantly recognizable identity. It also relies heavily on associations; a brand is only as strong as the memories that come with it. The world’s best uniforms can’t build a brand for a mediocre team with average players. But even an unremarkable uniform worn for years by Hall of Famers or championship teams can become part of an iconic brand.
That last point is critical: brands take time to develop. They require a consistent visual identity and strong, enduring associations. A single moment of greatness isn’t enough to establish a brand. Leicester City has won more Premier League titles (one) than Manchester United over the last decade, but United’s brand alone is worth about $784 million — almost 85% of Leicester’s total value. Despite its recent struggles, United still has one of soccer’s strongest brands thanks to decades of excellence and its iconic red jerseys.
But the Nike uniform model is antithetical to brand-building. It’s impossible to supplement an enduring brand when the uniform changes every year. A baseball fan from 60 years ago would still recognize some of the sport’s most iconic brands — the Yankees, Red Sox, and Dodgers — today. The Lakers and Knicks consistently rank among the most valuable NBA franchises for similar reasons. They’ve managed to create effective, enduring visual brands associated with iconic players and excellence (well, maybe not in the Knicks’ case). The Brooklyn Nets and LA Clippers, competing in the same large markets, lack similarly enduring brands. It’s no coincidence that they’re worth less than their counterparts and have smaller fanbases.
Yet as destructive as Nike’s uniform model is for teams’ brand-building, it’s a remarkably shrewd business move. If any company knows the benefits of an enduring brand, it’s Nike. Forbes estimates Nike’s brand value at over $39 billion, ranking 13th among the world’s most valuable brands. The swoosh logo has remained largely unchanged since its inception; “Just Do It” is arguably the most iconic corporate slogan out there. The NBA uniform deal is simply another chance for Nike to advance its already ubiquitous brand by placing its logo on every jersey.
While Nike has every incentive to advance its own brand, it has no incentive to care about any individual team’s brand. So the motive behind Nike’s uniform model is as transparent as it is cynical: to sell as many jerseys as possible. By creating artificial scarcity with annual jersey changes, Nike can demand higher prices and drive higher sales for particular jerseys. Sales matter; other brands don’t. Whether it’s the Grizzlies or the Lakers, Nike is selling jerseys with its logo — and for Nike, that’s all that matters.
Nike’s NBA deal is a fascinating case study in corporate branding. It’s a deeply one-sided partnership, giving Nike massive brand exposure while NBA teams lose out on true brand-building opportunities. It shows that teams are focused on maximizing short-term profit regardless of long-term costs. And most of all, it’s a reminder that the pursuit of profit tends to trump the pursuit of legacy. “It’s a business,” fans are often told. Nike’s uniform model is a reminder of just how true that is.
