For many American fans, the NBA increasingly doesn't feel like 'our league'
Something quiet but consequential is unfolding in American professional basketball: the league's most dominant figures now hail from France, Serbia, Cameroon, and Slovenia rather than the cities and courts that gave the sport its cultural soul. ESPN analyst Kendrick Perkins gave voice to a tension many fans feel but rarely articulate — that excellence and belonging are not the same thing. No American-born player has lifted the MVP trophy since 2018, and Victor Wembanyama's playoff brilliance only deepens the question of whether a league built on American identity can thrive globally while losing its emotional grip at home.
- Wembanyama's 27-point, 17-rebound demolition of Minnesota crystallized what Perkins said plainly on national television: international players have taken over the NBA.
- The absence of an American MVP winner since James Harden in 2018 is not a footnote — it is a structural shift that is quietly eroding the tribal bond between the league and its domestic audience.
- Hockey's history offers a warning: decades of foreign dominance kept casual American fans at arm's length until homegrown stars made the sport feel like theirs again, and ratings followed.
- The NBA now faces a fork — chase global markets and accept fading American emotional investment, or cultivate the next generation of homegrown superstars who can make fans say 'our league' and mean it.
- The league's lowest-rated Finals in memory coincided with Jokic's championship, while Curry's Warriors drew nearly 20 million viewers — the gap is not about quality of play, it is about connection.
Victor Wembanyama put up 27 points, 17 rebounds, five assists, and three blocks to push the San Antonio Spurs within one win of the Western Conference Finals, and in doing so handed ESPN analyst Kendrick Perkins the clearest possible evidence for a point he had just made on First Take: international players now own the NBA.
Perkins had been watching for signs that American talent was ready to reclaim the spotlight. Giannis's injuries and what looked like a slight Jokic decline seemed to open a door. Then Wembanyama walked through it and closed it behind him. The MVP roll call since 2018 reads like a global roster — Shai Gilgeous-Alexander, Jokic three times, Embiid, Giannis twice — and Wembanyama is almost certainly next.
The deeper issue isn't the quality of these players, which is beyond dispute. It's what their dominance does to American fan attachment. Hockey spent decades as a sport that felt foreign to casual U.S. audiences, dominated by Canadians, Russians, and Scandinavians. When American stars emerged and Team USA won Olympic gold, the emotional equation changed and ratings climbed. The NHL didn't alter its rules. What changed was belonging.
The NBA was built on a different foundation — American greatness, and specifically Black American superstardom. Magic, Jordan, Kobe, LeBron, Curry: the league's identity was inseparable from its homegrown icons. When Curry's Warriors were at their peak, Finals games drew nearly 20 million viewers. When Jokic's Nuggets won in 2023, the series ranked among the lowest-rated in memory. The gap wasn't talent. It was emotional investment.
Perkins used one telling phrase: 'our league.' Not 'the league.' For a growing number of American fans, the NBA increasingly feels like a global enterprise that happens to play its games in the United States. The league may calculate that international revenue and streaming growth offset the erosion of domestic cultural attachment. That may even be correct as a business matter. But it is a trade-off worth naming honestly, because a league born in America that loses America's heart is navigating something more than a marketing problem.
Victor Wembanyama dropped 27 points, 17 rebounds, five assists and three blocks on Tuesday night to push the San Antonio Spurs past the Minnesota Timberwolves 126-97, moving them one win away from the Western Conference Finals. The 7-foot-4 French forward, the 2023 first overall pick, has become the latest and perhaps most vivid symbol of a shift that ESPN analyst Kendrick Perkins named aloud on First Take: the NBA now belongs to international players.
Perkins was discussing the gap he thought American basketball had closed. Giannis Antetokounmpo's injuries and what Perkins saw as Nikola Jokic's slight decline seemed to offer an opening for homegrown talent to reclaim the spotlight. Then Wembanyama arrived in the playoffs and erased that theory. "The international players have completely taken over our league," Perkins said. He wasn't wrong. No American-born player has won the MVP award since James Harden in 2018. The recent winners read like a global roster: Shai Gilgeous-Alexander, Jokic (three times), Joel Embiid, and Giannis Antetokounmpo (twice). Wembanyama, who already plays like the best two-way player in basketball, will likely add his name to that list within the next decade.
The problem, as Perkins inadvertently exposed, isn't that international players are bad. They've brought genuine skill and sophistication to the league. The problem is what their dominance signals about American fan connection. Americans have historically rooted for Americans. This isn't complicated, though sports media often pretends it is. Hockey offers an instructive parallel. For decades, the sport struggled to capture casual American interest because it felt foreign—dominated by Canadians, Russians, Swedes, Finns, and Czechs. Then Team USA beat Canada for Olympic gold, and the entire conversation shifted. Matthew Tkachuk, Jack Hughes, and other American stars didn't just win; they made the sport feel like it belonged to Americans too. TV ratings spiked. The NHL didn't change its rules or its ice. What changed was the emotional attachment.
The NBA built itself on a different formula: American greatness. Magic Johnson, Larry Bird, Michael Jordan, Shaquille O'Neal, Kobe Bryant, LeBron James, Steph Curry, Kevin Durant—the face of the league was almost always American, and much of that power came through Black American superstardom. When Steph Curry's Warriors dominated, NBA Finals games averaged nearly 20 million viewers. When Nikola Jokic's Nuggets won in 2023, the Finals became one of the lowest-rated series on record. The difference wasn't the quality of play. It was the emotional investment.
Some will argue this is about race—that American fans prefer European stars because some are white. The evidence doesn't support it. Wembanyama is Black. Giannis is Black. Embiid is Black. Shai is Black. This is an international takeover, not a European one. And Black American athletes have been among the most famous and marketable figures in American sports history. Michael Jordan and Tiger Woods remain globally iconic. The issue isn't race. It's connection. Wembanyama, Jokic, Luka Doncic, and Giannis are extraordinary athletes, but they don't feel like American sports heroes because they aren't.
Sports fandom is tribal, regional, national, and emotional. In the United States, fans want to feel like the league belongs to them. Perkins captured it in one phrase: "our league." He didn't say "the league." For many American basketball fans, the NBA increasingly doesn't feel like "our league" at the top. It feels like a global league that happens to play most of its games in the United States. The NBA may be fine with that calculation—international growth, global merchandise sales, and streaming numbers might outweigh the loss of domestic cultural attachment. That's a business decision. But the league should be clear-eyed about what comes with it. Global relevance might rise. American emotional investment might not. And for a league built in America, that's a problem worth acknowledging.
Citações Notáveis
The international players have completely taken over our league.— Kendrick Perkins, ESPN analyst
There is no hope for us to take over our league. There is no hope whatsoever, at least for the next 10 years, for us to get our league back.— Kendrick Perkins, ESPN analyst
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why does it matter if the best players are international? Great basketball is great basketball.
True, but fandom isn't purely about skill. It's about seeing yourself in the story. When Americans watched Michael Jordan, they weren't just watching the best player alive—they were watching an American. That emotional ownership changes how people engage.
But isn't that just nostalgia? Younger fans might not care where players are from.
Maybe. But the data suggests otherwise. When Curry's Warriors were dominant, Finals viewership was nearly 20 million. When Jokic won in 2023, it dropped significantly. The talent level didn't change. The connection did.
So the NBA should prioritize developing American stars over international ones?
Not necessarily. But they should understand the trade-off. You can build a global league, but you might lose the domestic emotional attachment that built the league in the first place. Those aren't the same thing.
Is Wembanyama the problem, then?
No. He's just the clearest example of a larger shift. The problem is that the league's identity has become untethered from American fandom. That might be worth it for global growth. But it's a choice, not an accident.