The Case for Relegation by Jacob Nantz

On March 31, the Houston Rockets played the Detroit Pistons. The score doesn’t matter. There were no truly notable performances or meaningful ripple effects of the game’s result. In fact, the only thing at stake for either team was a better chance at the top draft pick if they lost, and despite the Pistons’ ultimately finishing worst in the league and the Rockets tying for worst in the Western Conference, neither won the top pick. The seasons for both these teams were, objectively speaking, failures for many reasons, but losing the contest of who can win by losing might be the most difficult for each front office to swallow. The NBA is a global phenomenon, but “tanking” is a pervasive problem with the current league structure, which allows the on-court product to suffer. There will be a breaking point as teams continue to throw in the proverbial towel on dismal seasons and players continue to indulge in load management, which is why a second-tier league to which the worst NBA team is relegated and from which the top team is promoted would be entertaining and productive—and doable.

Relegation would be a major structural shift and would require a new logistical framework along with a host of new rules. It’s a lot to unpack, so let’s first examine the tanking problem. For those unfamiliar with the concept, tanking is when a team deliberately puts itself in positions unfavorable to winning (I won’t say losing on purpose; it’s not that simple). Teams tank for a better percentage chance at a higher draft pick the following year, hoping a bad season will reward them with the best available new players to serve as a foundation from which to build a winning franchise. The problem? Few teams successfully execute the process, and it’s easy for ownership to keep losing (or not try that hard to win) when fans keep showing up. Take the Pistons-Rockets game on the 31st, for example. This was a meaningless game toward the end of the season with no true marquee players, and the stadium was at 88 percent capacity. What’s more, although Houston has made runs at success in recent years, the Pistons have been on a horrendous slide for more than a decade. Since losing in the Eastern Conference finals in 2007–08, Detroit has had one winning season. In the last four years they have averaged a win percentage of .267 yet have had the number-one draft pick only once in that span. In short: the rebuild in Motor City isn’t working, yet people keep watching. Forcing teams like this to earn their way back into contention would be good for competition, good for loyal fan bases, and good for business. In fact, the NBA expresses concern over the trend. This past season, the Dallas Mavericks tanked the final two games by sitting superstar Luka Dončić against inferior opponents despite a playoff spot on the line. This triggered an investigation that led to a $750,000 fine. Sure, that’s not a crippling fee for a major sports organization, but administration admitted tanking was “harmful” and “an issue.” Introducing relegation while restructuring the draft format could mitigate this problem.

So why relegation and not a simpler route, such as adjusting draft rules? Look no further than the magnetic chaos of European soccer. Domestic football associations around the globe boast multiple professional tiers, all linked together via promotion and relegation. As soccer gains popularity in America, so does the obsession with this format. Actor and entrepreneur Rob McElhenny claims the concept was a major draw when deciding whether to buy into a club with Ryan Reynolds during season one of Welcome to Wrexham. In Ted Lasso, relegation drives the arc of season one while promotion does the same for season two. With the NBA already holding the attention of the world, why not embrace a concept already adopted and beloved—or hated, depending on your team’s place—by the world’s most popular sport? If anything, it’s even more entertainment in a country obsessed with entertainment. In England’s professional system this past year, there was drama on all levels. Luton Town, a team with a famously humble stadium, was promoted to the top flight for the first time in thirty-one years after winning a penalty shoot-out in the playoff final. Sheffield Wednesday moved up to the second tier, or the championship, by overcoming a seemingly insurmountable goal deficit on aggregate in the playoff semifinal. The playoff final for League Two, the fourth tier, also went to penalties. The atmosphere of all of these matches, packed with passionate fan bases from smaller markets, shook with the intensity of a top-level fixture. This carried down four tiers (five if you count Wrexham’s and Notts County’s nonleague triumphs). I’m asking the NBA for only one additional league, and it’s not a far-fetched request. In fact, I’m certain it would work.

Look, you can argue such a drastic change to a successful league won’t happen because, well, why fix something that isn’t broken? Why hammer through the logistics and rule changes, trade clauses and legal back-end work of collective bargaining agreements when the current model is working? That’s fair. But you can’t argue the idea isn’t plausible or interesting. There is enough talent and money—and interest—to support it. Major investors and cities perpetually lobby for NBA expansion teams. Kansas City built T-Mobile Center in part to prove it had the chops to host a team. It’s already a championship town, and even the likes of Patrick Mahomes have expressed a desire to bring in a franchise. Cities such as Louisville, Seattle, and Newark (both of which had successful NBA runs), among others, have the infrastructure and interest to host an NBA team. If investors were given an opportunity with a second league, the citizens of these cities would get a team to latch onto and an injection of money and jobs into the local economies.

The NBA seems incapable of failing and continues to expand its reach abroad, so why not capitalize on that global interest even further with a domestic framework? The league is already equipped with G League and G League Ignite, which continue to evolve. But a second league would provide more room to develop international talent stateside within a league that has stakes. NBA 2 would be a vehicle to the NBA, pulling more players from their own domestic leagues to the United States. This would, in turn, draw a more European crowd, and limitless streaming options would provide access to games.

But is there enough talent to go around? NBA.com reports “this past season, a record 47 percent of players on NBA start-of-season rosters for 2022–23 had NBA G League experience, up from 41 percent on rosters the previous season. With big names such as Pascal Siakam, Rudy Gobert, and Jordan Poole leading the way, every NBA team has at least one NBA G League alumnus playing with them this past season.” Players such as Caleb Martin, who spent time developing in the G League, garnered attention in this past playoff run with standout performances. In short: the gap between the developmental leagues and the NBA is not very wide, making a second league competitively feasible.

It is true the NBA is thriving in many ways. But sitting idle on opportunities to improve can be dangerous, especially when a problem such as tanking is living within the current structure like a parasite. Doing more to strengthen a good thing is where real progress—revolutionary progress—is born. Adam Silver, or whoever his successor may be, should give it a think.

On June 22, French phenom Victor Wembanyama was selected as the first overall pick of the draft. What if a newly promoted team, not the arbitrary winner of a lottery, earned that pick by winning the NBA 2 title? Surely ESPN and other networks would cover the festivities if the Kansas City Reign, perhaps owned in part by Mahomes, celebrated promotion with a parade while Detroit had to come to grips with relegation. The Rockets and Pistons drafted great young talents with the fourth and fifth picks, respectively. Maybe the teams will turn it around. But they may not, and accountability creates thick skin and forces people to rise to the occasion. Raise the stakes, Silver. Enhance a product people already love. Bring relegation to the NBA.