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I’m exactly the type of 21-year-old ESPN wants to engage, and even I don’t get why they laid off Zach Lowe.
I am a writer, but before that, I’m a 21-year-old NBA fan.
People my age don’t usually know what we want out of life. Many of us are just starting out in the working world or finishing up school. I don’t know if I want to live in Oklahoma or Vietnam, haven’t even thought about buying or leasing a car, and we’re all too young to know how good Gilbert Arenas was in his prime.
People like me are the next generation of NBA consumers. We’re an emerging market, and if the league plays its cards right, they could lock us in for 50-plus years of loyal viewership, ticket and merch sales, as well as the indoctrination of our eventual children. To do that, the NBA relies on its broadcasting partners to get the word out. Chief among them is ESPN, the name-est of name brands in sports media, and one just as ravenous as the league to tap into the yet-filled pockets of young fans like me.
To do that, ESPN is slanting their NBA coverage towards what they think I want. According to research conducted by Microsoft, I have a shorter attention span than a Goldfish, so I must want content that delivers a take in the eight seconds that I’m actually listening. So it’s time for short-form video and audio; TikTok, YouTube, Instagram Reels, clips on X and 90-second videos on the ESPN app. Boundless visual assaults with wild-font subtitles screaming across the screen; jump cuts from frame to frame, making sure I don’t have to see the microsecond the host paused in between sentences.
But with that shift in focus, it seems high-quality written content and hour-long podcasts are no longer in the budget for the self-proclaimed Worldwide Leader in Sports, and on Thursday, they laid off Zach Lowe — the absolute pinnacle of smart NBA content and my favorite writer of all time — in their continued move hunger for followers, clicks, views and clips that they think will be the future of sports media. So, instead of any more of Lowe’s brilliant content, here’s Kendrick Perkins saying nobody is afraid of the Celtics in one minute and 16 seconds.
Lowe’s exit feels like the final nail in the coffin in ESPN’s near-decade-long move away from measured, analytical content from the best minds in sports toward sensationalist, scorching-hot takes from big names like Perkins, Stephen A. Smith and Pat McAfee. And it’s all for me, the next generation of consumer that doesn’t want the older, longer and thinkier stuff.
But ESPN is wrong. I don’t want that, and — even if their engagement metrics say otherwise — I’m willing to make an evidence-based bet that neither does the rest of my generation of NBA fans.
I do not consider short-form content better, more accessible or in any way more modern than written work, well-produced TV segments or podcast content. I consider it trash; abundant but valueless, often produced from the scraps of other content like the Pat McAfee or Stephen A. Smith shows, or from breakout clips from First Take; please enjoy these 2 minutes and 54 seconds of Smith, Shannon Sharpe and Dan Orlovsky incomprehensibly screaming about if the Dallas Cowboys have a winning culture.
This kind of content is like a virus. Nobody wants it, but everyone gets it. It’s infinitely self-replicating, with tens of thousands of online personalities reposting it to exponentially boost its performance. But this stuff isn’t voted on by viewers as “quality” just because it’s been shared or seen. That may be how it used to work — when shares and e-mails were genuine statements of support. Today’s social media isn’t democratic, it’s determined by algorithms that decide what you want to watch and don’t ask for your input.
As anyone who has ever eaten too much fast food will know, there’s a difference between consumption and enjoyment. Just because someone gorges on something does not mean they like it, and the same goes for NBA content. I only ever get sent these clips by friends when they’re complaining about how stupid it is, which makes us all feel dumber for even caring about it in the first place. I’ve never felt good after scrolling Instagram Reels for 30 minutes; more like I just ate a few handfuls too many of extra fries from a local drive-thru chain, but with my eyeballs. My pupils feel nauseous and my corneas are screaming.
But I, a verbose and admittedly persnickety history major who may not be a perfect stand-in for all young people, am not alone among my age cohort in this feeling. According to recent data from The Harris Poll, almost half of Gen Z wishes TikTok and X were never invented, news that will come as completely unsurprising to anyone my age who uses those apps. Everyone knows about them and most of us are addicted to them to some level, but on no level do I “like” them. I know my life would be better without them, as do many young fans.
Some would tell me to “just stop using them,” placing the blame on the consumer for supporting this type of content. But just like the fast food industry, the main perpetrators are the brands that actively suppress other options and hamstring consumers against their own wallets. By ridding themselves of the most analytical voices like Lowe, ESPN is instead investing in the loudest voices, attempting to drown out other content by dominating social media, where it is shared the most easily.
And no matter what my teachers or parents have told me, social media is not optional for the first generation of digital natives. It is a fundamental part of our social lives; meeting someone and then following them on Instagram later that day are steps one and two of telling them you might want to hang out more. And for the NBA, we’re used to having information instantly. And there’s no place to get news faster than social media. Not engaging with it unavoidably makes us feel behind or left out, unable to respond to our friends when they asked us if we saw that Baby Gronk dropped a diss track on the Rizzler and Big Justice or if we think Moo Deng the hippo would beat Pesto the penguin in a fight to the death. Those are real things.
It’s a tough system to fight against, and I don’t have all the answers here, which is… the whole point. I’m a 21-year-old social media addict whose self-destructive levels of screen time should not be trusted in any decision-making capacity, let alone to determine the future of NBA coverage.
To put it simply: I know I’m an idiot! So why is ESPN letting me run their business?
They think Lowe doesn’t appeal to people like me, but they’re wrong. The whole online world is constructed in a way that promotes empty-calorie content, but that doesn’t mean we like it. ESPN is pandering to my worst qualities, and while Lowe’s content may not be the future the system supports, it’s the one I and many like me want. Continuing to lean into trash may be profitable in the short-term, but it will also dilute ESPN’s NBA psyche beyond repair, giving nobody what they want and making us all feel dumber. And maybe, in the end, make us decide to change the channel — or even worse, unfollow — for good.
