“It was heresy to sit in a meeting to say, ‘We don’t sell basketball. Basketball’s not our product. We sell fun. We sell good times.’”
Cuban wanted to prove that smarter marketing could help the league fill its gyms with more fans. “It’s not about the sound of sneakers,” he says. “The hardcore fan is not who fills our arena, not even close. The people that listen to sports talk radio aren’t the people paying our bills. It’s the signal versus the noise. They’re the noise, they’re not the signal.”
He wanted to prove to himself, and to the rest of the league, that pro hoops was a hot ticket, even in places like Dallas. He sensed that a lot of his fellow owners were apathetic about ticket sales. They “didn’t care if there were 6,000 people in the stands.”
Cuban set out to reimagine the NBA fan experience. His first project was selling out his arena by getting people in the cheap seats. “I wanted to fill [our arena] up because (a) I wanted to see if I could do it, and (b) when you have a full arena, your team plays better. It was part of winning.”
He recalls appealing to fans’ frugality. “I remember the first pitch when I came in was like, ‘Look, we have $8 tickets. It’s cheaper to go to a Mavs game than it is to go to dinner or a movie.’ You tell me you can’t get somebody out there to pay $8? I don’t care if we have nobody in the lower seats.”
It worked. Soon the Mavs were filling the top rung of the arena, but that wasn’t all — Cuban started to generate more revenue from the courtside seats, as well.
“I just jacked up the price so high, and in Dallas my center court seats immediately went from $200 to $2,000. Boom, like that,” he remembers. “Because those were the TV seats. You got free food, and you got to walk across the court.”
Go to a Mavericks game now, and you see Cuban’s imprint everywhere. The nosebleeds are packed, the courtside seats are filled with Dallas bigwigs, and the rims are miked up so that when Dirk hits a 19-footer, you can hear the sound of the swish, no matter how much you paid for your seat.
Those fans who hate the constant JumboTronning and everybody-clap-your-hands-ing that have become part and parcel of the live NBA experience have Cuban — at least partially — to blame. Eighteen months after he purchased the franchise, the team moved into the brand-new American Airlines Center. This was Cuban’s canvas.
“I didn’t design the arena, but when I bought the team, I immediately made changes. They didn’t want to have any video boards; it was all old school. I was like, **** that,” he recalls, colorfully. “In 2009, we had our JumboTron specially designed and made for us. At the time, it was the largest indoor screen in the world, the highest-resolution screen in the world. And that wasn’t because the first one broke. It was because we wanted to stay ahead, and the video was how we wanted to entertain people.”