Under Armour's Attack on Nike | Sweat Equity | 1

Audible subscribers can listen to all episodes of Business Wars ad-free right now. Join Audible today by downloading the Audible app. It's summer 2005 in Baltimore, Maryland. Under Armour CEO Kevin Plank is staring out the window of his office as he waits for someone to pick up the phone. The sky outside is bright blue with a hazy shimmer from the humidity. Plank knows that within seconds of stepping foot outdoors he'll be dripping his sweat. For years, sweat was his biggest nemesis. As a linebacker for the University of Maryland, the cotton t-shirts he wore under his football pads would get soaked, becoming heavy and clingy, slowing him down on the field. So he set out to fix the problem. Nearly 10 years ago, Plank created a shirt that wick-swet away from the body. The cornerstone product that became the foundation of a company he named Under Armour. Now, that company is one of the fastest rising sportswear brands in America. A receptionist finally answers his call and Plank asks to speak with Edward Stack. A moment later, Stack comes on the line. "Kevin, how are you? Those new running shirts are selling like hotcakes." "That's great to hear. Hey, do you have a minute to chat?" Stack is the CEO of Dick Sporting Goods, the retail chain founded by his father in 1948. It's one of the largest retailers of Under Armour products. And over the years, the two men have become close. "Sure, what's on your mind?" "Well, you know, how we're preparing to take Under Armour public?" "Uh-huh." "Well, I just got off the phone with one of my bankers and he says that VF Corporation wants to acquire us before the IPO. If I accept, I'll never have to work again." "Something's holding you back." "I know it should be thrilled and I'm grateful. Don't get me wrong. But I wanted to get your take. I'm sure you and your dad have entertained offers over the years, but you've never sold." "Well, look. This company is your baby and if you sell it to VF Corp, it won't be yours anymore. So you got to ask yourself, why did you get into this? Was it just for the money?" "No, no, no, no, not just the money." "No, you did it because you believed in what you had. You believed in your product. Because you enjoyed the challenge, right?" "Yeah, that's true. I just don't want to make a huge mistake and walk away from a pile of money that could change my life." "Stack is quiet for a moment." "Hey, let me tell you something. As a retailer, I would love to see a company out there that could really rival Nike. Now, for my perspective, the more great products we can offer our customers, the better. And of all the athletic wear companies I have ever seen over the years, you're the one that can take them on." "Wow, you really think so?" "Now, I'm not saying it'll be easy, but the quality of your products and the brand loyalty you fostered over the years. I gotta tell you, I've never seen anything like it before." "Wow. Well, thank you. Thanks a lot. That really means a lot." "But when I say you, I mean you. Underarmor needs you at the helm. So think about it, all right? Are you done writing underarmor's story or do you want to see how far you can take it?" Plank looks out the window again. Ten years ago, he built a shirt to fight sweat. Now, he's about to pick a fight with one of the most powerful brands and sports. He hangs up the phone. He's made up his mind. He's not selling. Instead, he's gearing up to do something almost no one in sports has done before. Deep Nike at its own game. The most expensive brand is Arquen and Juchlan. The market is open. We're going to see how it's going to be. In 1995, Kevin Plank was still a football player at the University of Maryland when he created a new kind of t-shirt that didn't get soaked with sweat. The next year, after graduating, he used savings from odd jobs to launch a company built around his new t-shirt. He called it "Underarmor." The brand pioneered what would become known as "performance wear," a peril designed to wick away moisture and regulate body temperature. Underarmor became a hit. Its products popular with both professional athletes and weekend warriors. As it grew in popularity, the company set out to do something audacious. Take on Nike. For a decade, it looked like "Underarmor" might actually pull it off, but building a challenger brand is one thing. Staying on top, that's another. In an attempt to keep up, "Underarmor" expands aggressively, adding more and more products and chasing technology plays. But the more it veers away from its core, the more the company risks losing the singular focus and brand cash aid that made it special. And the question, "Don't be whether "Underarmor" can catch Nike." It'll be whether it can stay true to itself while trying. This is Episode 1. Sweat Equity. It's a sweltering summer day in 1995 in College Park, Maryland. University of Maryland football player Kevin Plank stands on the sidelines, ringing sweat out of a cotton t-shirt. His helmet and shoulder pads lie on the ground next to him. He's been playing football since he was a kid, but it still blows his mind how much sweat these t-shirts can retain. He wants to wait a sweat-soaked shirt after practice and discovered it weighed three pounds. He's pretty sure the heavy-soaked shirts slow him down. There's a reason people don't play football with three-pound medallions around their necks. Plank gives his shirt one final squeeze and tosses it into his bag next to two others, sopping wet shirts. He pulls out his last dry one, although he knows it'll be drenched within minutes. He wishes he had a shirt made out of the same material as the synthetic compression shorts he wears. When he changes those at the end of practice, they're still dry, and they weigh the same as they did at the start. Plank stares out of the field. Why doesn't someone make a shirt out of that material? He can't be the only athlete who hates the way cotton t-shirts get soaked with sweat. Athletes put so much thought into their other gear like your shoes and equipment. Why not, they're clothing. Plank's mind starts racing. First, he'll need to see if anything like this already exists. If not, he'll get to work, but he'll need to get fabric samples, make prototypes, test them, and pitch them to potential customers. That'll be a lot of work, but it feels doable. A coach barks from across the field, break time is over. Plank snaps back to reality. He pulls his pads back on and jogs out, but his mind is still on that shirt. In the days that follow, Plank starts sketching designs. He wants to combine the fit of the Haines cotton t-shirt he typically wears with a synthetic fabric that will wick away sweat. Plank has always had an entrepreneurial drive. Growing up outside Washington, DC, he mowed lawns and shoveled snow to make money. He's continued to earn cash in college through a variety of side hustles. He's parked cars, sold friendship bracelets and t-shirts at grateful dead concerts and delivered roses for Valentine's Day. His roses business is so successful that he installs a credit card reader in his dorm room and hires other students to help with deliveries. By senior year, he saved several thousand dollars, enough to take a shot with his new shirt. So, Plank heads to the fabric store and picks out a lightweight, stretchy synthetic material, similar to the fabric that compression shorts are made of. The sales representative tells him this material is frequently used for women's undergarments. Plank smirks. He probably won't mention that when pitching his new shirt to his football teammates. Next, he takes the fabric to a tailor near campus and asks for seven prototypes based on his designs. Over the next several months, Plank asks various players on his team to test the new shirt and jot down their notes on the length, the weight and the collar. By the spring of 1996, as a result of the fall, Plank's new shirt was made by the company. As Plank senior year winds down, he feels confident he's created a superior shirt. After graduation, he heads up to New York City's garment district and pays to have 500 shirts made. Then, he moves into a family-owned townhouse in Washington, D.C. and turns the basement into the headquarters for his new company. Plank names it "Under Armor," choosing to spell armor the British way with a U. This allows him to secure the phone number 1-888-4-ARM-O-U-R, which he finds visually pleasing. In the basement, Plank and her friend from college spend their days co-calling every equipment manager on the East Coast, pitching them on the shirt and sending out samples. But the shirt isn't selling, so Plank decides to take the show on the road. He loads up his Ford Explorer with samples and drives around the country, stopping at schools where he knows players or coaches. Through his years of playing elite football, he has a lot of connections in the sport. Some of his friends are still playing at universities, and there are even a few who have gone pro. He hands out samples to anyone who will take them. Still, sales are slow to come. By the end of 1996, Plank has burned through his savings and is on his way to amassing thousands of dollars in credit card debt. His best hope is that an athletic director will place an order to outfit their entire football team in "Under Armor" shirts. But even with his connections, Plank knows that athletic directors are hesitant to place a large order from what looks like a fly-by-night operation. So he decides to make his company seem bigger than it is. He hopes this will help athletic directors take the lead. And in late 1996, he gets to test his theory when he walks into the office of the Georgia Tech athletic director, carrying a briefcase. Thank you so much for taking the time to meet with me. Before we get started, let me give you my business card. Plank reaches inside his jacket pocket and pulls out a metal business card holder. On the left side are cards that identify him as the president and founder of "Under Armor". On the right are cards that identify him as a sales representative. He pulls out a sales rep card and hands it to the athletic director. The director glances at it, then sets it on his desk. "I understand you have a new type of shirt that will boost performance?" "Yes sir, let me show you." He pulls out a shirt from his briefcase and spreads it across the desk. These shirts have been tested by some of the best college football players in this country. We've perfected the fit and the material to ensure that athletes are able to perform at their absolute peak. The athletic director rubs the fabric between his fingers. Hmm. This wicks away sweat? Yes sir. This is a quick dry fabric that will keep your players both cool and dry. Well, it's a good idea. As you could probably guess playing in the South, heat and humidity are big issues for our players. Yes sir, I know. I used to be one of those players. At Maryland there were practices where I'd have to change my shirt multiple times. It was a drag, literally. Soak cotton gets heavy and it definitely slowed me down. I used to dream about having a shirt like this. The director studies the shirt for another moment. Well, I'd be interested in trying some to see how our players like them. Would it be possible to cut some kind of deal, maybe get a bulk order discount? Plank is so close to making a sale. He doesn't want to mess it up. But he knows the school can afford to pay the full price he's asking. And he needs the money. So he shrugs apologetically. Well, if it were up to me, I would definitely do it, but the big guy back at HQ won't let us cut any deals. A light sheen of sweat shines on his forehead. He hopes the athletic director can't tell that he's bluffing. Plank is the big guy in HQ and he could cut any deal he wants. But he doesn't want to seem too eager. A founder doing his own sales, reeks of small time desperation. The athletic director feels the fabric again. Well, it does seem like a really good product. Plank leans forward waiting for the director to finish that thought. Alright, we'll take a chance. I need to look at my budget and talk to my coaches. So we'll be in touch with exactly how many but we're in. Plank bites his lips so he doesn't let out a triumphant whoop. Fantastic. You're not going to regret this. Plank walks back to his Ford Explorer in the parking lot. The windshield is cracked and the inside smells of old French fries coffee and sweat. He's logged thousands of miles in this car, but this trip was worth it. He finally made his first team sale. By the end of his first year, Plank has sold $17,000 worth of shirts. It's a start, but he's still deep in debt. And he'll need a lot more schools to take the same chance Georgia Tech just did. If Under Armour is going to survive. The end of his first year. He's been in the center of the country for a long time. He's been at the center of the country for a long time. I'm in Dravama and in the latest season of the spy who we open the file on Larry Chin, the spy who outplayed Nixon. For decades, Chin was embedded deep inside US intelligence. Then comes an opportunity, Richard Nixon's secret plan to reopen relations with China. Information Chin can place directly into Mao's hands. But the CIA has a weapon of their own. Chinese mole ready to defect how long until Chin's gage is up. Follow the spy who now wherever you listen to podcasts. Over the course of 1997, Kevin Plank keeps growing under armor. After the breakthrough sailed to Georgia Tech, he lands deals with other colleges, including Arizona State. Along the way, Plank employs a variety of tricks to make his small company seem a lot bigger and more successful than it really is. He continues to hand out business cards that identify him simply as a sales representative, not the founder or president. And he frequently stretches the truth about how many teams he's signed. When he has three teams on board, he tells other potential customers, he has five. When he has five, he says there are ten. His hustle pays off. Word begins to spread that under armor shirts are more comfortable and boost an athlete's performance. More and more teams sign on. Plank knows he can't rely on just one product. So he starts developing more. The original sweat-wicking shirt is targeted at athletes playing in heat, so Plank develops a cold weather version. He uses a different type of synthetic fabric that keeps players warm without weighing them down. He also designs gear that will protect players playing on an artificial turf and a line of hats and visors. By the end of 1997, under armor has made deals with twelve colleges and ten NFL teams. In 1998, the company is finally bringing in enough money that Plank is able to move the headquarters out of his grandmother's townhouse in Washington, D.C., and into an office building in Baltimore, Maryland. But if under armor is truly going to grow the company, Plank can't just sell to college and pro athletes. He also needs the wreck league players, the couch to five K runners, and the aerobics class enthusiasts. There's just one problem. Retailers aren't carrying the brand yet. Plank can't afford a major advertising campaign to drive direct sales. It's a classic chicken and egg dilemma. But then, under armor gets extremely lucky. In 1998, a friend calls Plank with some news. He's been hired as an extra in a movie called Any Given Sunday, starring Jamie Foxx, Al Pacino and Cameron Diaz. He's directed by Oliver Stone and follows the struggles of a fictional NFL team fighting to make the playoffs. There will be several scenes set in the locker room, which means the cameras will show what football players wear under the uniforms. The friend says that if Plank can convince the costume designers to outfit the actors in under armor, this could be his big break. It would be the equivalent of millions of dollars in free advertising. The friend passes along the name of the costume designer, and Plank quickly sends off samples of under armor shirts. And then, he waits. Costume designer Mary Zofriees arranges outfits on a portable clothes rack in her office. She smooths fabric, adjusts collars, and carefully reviews each item, making sure everything is displayed just right. She's preparing for a meeting with director Oliver Stone. He's known to be obsessive about every detail of his films, so she wants to make sure she's presenting each piece in its best light. The door opens and Stone marches in. His dark brown hair is unkempt and his white button downshurred as rumpled, as if he slept in it. Stone looks at his watch. Sorry I'm late, it's been a crazy day. Oh, no problem at all. This stage of pre-pro is always crazy-hactic. And I've got another meeting in 15 minutes, so we'll need to make this quick. Yeah, of course. I'll jump right in. Zofree's grabs a hanger from the rag. So this is the first option. A t-shirt and compression shorts made by Nike. Stone wrinkles his nose. It looks kind of average. The whole conceited this movie is that these football players are gladiators. I don't think the cut of this t-shirt says warrior. Understood. Let me show you another option. She pulls a hanger holding Reebok clothes and presents it to Stone. But he's not pleased with those either. These all feel so basic. I want something futuristic, something new. Zofree's nods and moves through a few more options. But Stone isn't happy with any of them either. There is one other option. It's from a relatively new company, so it won't feel as familiar as the other ones. That sounds promising. Show me. Zofree's goes to her desk and pulls out a large padded envelope. She removes a crop t-shirt with a high collar. On the collar is a logo that looks like an arch overlapped with a letter U. She holds the shirt out to Stone. This sample showed up a few days ago. It's by a company called Under Armor. Their letter says that several NFL teams have bought their shirts. So if we do use them, it will still have the authenticity I know is important to you. A small smile spreads across Stone's face. I like this. It looks high-tech, befitting of someone who's leaving it all on the field. Great! I'll reach out to Under Armor and let them know. Stone checks his watch. I gotta run, but this was a good meeting. I'm excited about Under Armor. He rushes out, already moving on to the next thing. Plank strikes a deal to provide apparel and accessories for any given Sunday. The production company tries to argue that Under Armor should provide their clothing for free, in exchange for exposure from the movie. But Plank plays Harpo and insists that Under Armor be paid for its product. In the end, he secures around $40,000. It's a huge win for a company with fewer than 20 employees. Still, the production company isn't wrong. The exposure alone could be priceless, and Plank is determined to capitalize on it. Any given Sunday is a fictional movie. The team at the center of the story that Miami Sharks doesn't exist in real life. Under Armor's brand recognition is so low, Plank worries audiences might assume his company is just as fictional as the Miami team. The obvious solution would be running a national advertising campaign. That could show consumers that Under Armor is a real company with products they can buy. But Under Armor doesn't have the kind of cash needed to invest in this kind of campaign. So Plank comes up with a workaround. He believes in it. He's just not sure how his employees will react. It's fall 1999 in Baltimore, Maryland. Kevin Plank walks into the conference room in Under Armor's headquarters carrying a VHS tape. His entire staff is gathered around the table for an all-hands meeting. If Plank has his way, they won't all fit into one room for much longer. But for that to happen, he needs to ask them for a big favor. A TV and a VCR are set up at the front of the room. Plank slides in the VHS tape. Hey everyone, thanks for coming today. Warner Brothers just sent this over. I think you'll get a kick out of it. He hits play in the video starts. Lightning strikes over a football field. There's an excited murmur in the room as everyone realizes they're watching the trailer for any given Sunday. Al Pacino's raspy voice fills the conference room. "My wife, my children, for these men, I've given up everything I have for these men." The trailer continues and Pacino who plays the team's coach gets into a heated argument with Cameron Diaz, the team's owner. The aging quarterback played by Dennis Quay gets injured and is replaced by a young hot shot QB played by Jamie Foxx. And then, for split second, Jamie Foxx appears on screen sporting a shirt with the Under Armor logo. The room erodes. When the trailer ends, Plank looks out at his team. Pretty cool, right? Everyone around the room nods. This is obviously great exposure for us, but exposure doesn't automatically turn into sales. The only way to make sure that happens is to advertise. Now, after careful consideration, I've decided that our best bet is to run a half-page ad in ESPN magazine. It'll go straight to our target demo, young men who are passionate about sports. Plank reveals a mock-up of the ad which features a broad-shouldered football player in a helmet, with Under Armor emblazoned across his chest. There are impressed murmurs around the table. Yeah, here's the catch. The ad costs $25,000 and we don't have that. Plank looks down and then takes a big breath. So, I'm asking all of us to take a gamble on this company. If we can all sacrifice our paychecks for just a couple of weeks, we can pay for this ad. If I'm right, the combination of the movie and the ad will generate enough sales to make it worth it. But I know it's a lot to ask. Plank glances around the room, making eye contact with everyone. Okay, so let's put it to a vote. Who's willing to forego their salaries so we can run this ad? Slowly, one by one, everyone raises their hands. Plank nods, moved by his employees' sacrifice. The ESPN ad runs in December 1999, time to the film's release. In just three weeks, it generates 8,000 direct response calls and over $800,000 in sales. A huge amount of revenue for a company that made 1.3 million total the year before. Retailers take notice as well. Sporting goods catalog East Bay starts carrying the brand and almost immediately, Under Armour becomes their leading soft goods seller. Other retailers follow suit. By the end of 2002, Under Armour is in more than 2,500 stores and more professional sports teams sign on, including NHL and MLB teams. Under Armour is now successfully serving both professional athletes and more casual fitness buffs. The company continues to expand its product line, including branching into women's apparel. Then in 2003, Under Armour launches its first TV ad. It stars professional football player Eric Obago, who stands in the center of a huddle packed with players decked out in Under Armour clothing. "You protect this house!" The commercial pushes the company's desired image of authenticity and grittiness and implies that people who buy Under Armour are real athletes. Now, pay special attention here because a lot is about to change for Under Armour and fast. In the real world as you're building out a company, you're always asking yourself, "What's next?" But there's really a deeper question bubbling up to the surface for Planck, who's come so far in such a short span of time. After almost 10 years, Planck's reached not so much a moment, but a nagging, inescapable need to get real again to touch grass. Try to put yourself in Planck's place here. You find yourself getting up in the morning staring into the bathroom mirror and asking yourself, "Why am I building this company? Is it enough to be a player to be successful and continue to grow? Or do I really want to dominate?" Well, how would you answer this question? In 2004, Under Armour's sales hit $200 million, and in 2005, Planck decides to take the company public. It's not an obvious decision. The stock market has been soft following the terrorist attacks of September 11th and the bursting of the early 2000s tech bubble. More than half of IPOs in the first quarter of the year fail to meet their target share prices. But Planck believes going public is just the fuel his company needs, a fresh influx of cash to continue growing the company. Shortly before the debut, Planck gets a call from his banker. VF Corporation, which owns companies like Bands and the North Face, has offered $850 million to acquire Under Armour, and the banker is confident he can push them up to a billion dollars if Planck wants to sell. Planck doesn't know what to do. It's an almost unfathomable amount of money, but selling would mean giving up control of his company, and he's not sure he's ready for that, either. Plank consults with dozens of people, including Edward Stack, the owner of Dick's sporting goods. Stack tells him something that shifts everything for Plank. He tells Plank he thinks under armor could be the company that surpasses Nike. It's a striking observation. Nike is the largest sportswear company in the United States, bringing in close to $14 billion in revenue in 2005, dwarfing underarmors $280 million. But it's a goal that appeals to Plank's "hustler mentality." He wants to be the one to try. Plank turns down VF corporations offer, and goes all in on the IPO. He just hopes he hasn't made a huge mistake, and walked away from the safest billion dollars he'll ever see. He's the one who's always been there, and he's the one who's been there for the most time. He's the one who's been there for the most time, and he's the one who's been there for the most time. Plank's "hustler mentality" is one of the most important things in the world. Underarmor goes public in November 2005. On its first day of trading, the share price doubles, and Underarmor is considered one of the hottest IPO's in years. The company raises $157 million, and many analysts start saying the thing Plank has been dreaming of, that Underarmor is a legitimate competitor to Nike. Over the next two years, the momentum continues. Among consumers aged 10 to 24, Underarmor clothing actually outsells Nike at several retailers. Some analysts describe the brand loyalty consumers have to Underarmor as "cult-like." But there's one category where Nike still has a huge advantage. Shoes. In 2006, Underarmor introduces football and baseball cleats, and they perform well. The football cleats become the official shoe of the NFL and capture 23% of the market within their first year, and their baseball cleats grab 11%, matching Adidas' share. Starting with cleats was a strategic decision. They're a specialty shoe with a relatively small market, giving Underarmor a controlled way to test the waters without going head-to-head with Nike and running or basketball, and the test works. So in 2007, Underarmor makes its move into sneakers, and this time, they're betting big. Now let's consider their pivot for just a moment. They start out with textbook category testing. Cleats or niche performance driven close to Underarmor's existing football identity. Lower cultural risk. Lower skew complexity. Manageable inventory exposure. Good, good, good. In business, it's smart to test the waters. But you know, when you win early, there's always the temptation to capitalize on things too quickly. To assume that adjacent markets will behave the same way, or that you have the capacity to deliver on what you promise. If you misread the room, things could get ugly. It's 2008. Underarmor founder and CEO Kevin Planck circles a conference table, covered in prototypes of the three cross-trainer's the company plans to launch in the coming months. One of the shoes designers nervously watches as Planck picks up a prototype called the Proto-Avade. It's aimed at people who do a lot of lateral movement like anaerobics or weightlifting. Planck deliberately decided to start with cross-trainer's. They were popular in the 80s and 90s, but their sales have dropped off since then. Rather than attack Nike in categories it owns like football or basketball, Underarmors trying to revive this overlooked category. Still, getting into sneakers is a risky move. Investors are already nervous that the company is overextending and that its costs are outpacing its revenue. Underarmor's stock has been shaky lately, but Planck feels in his gut that this is the smart move, if they can get the shoe right. He lifts the Proto-Avade up to the light and studies it from all angles. Then he slips a hand inside and feels the cushioning. Planck shakes his head, displeased. I can feel the stitching. That's going to rub against people's feet and cause blisters. Note we can't have that. The designer furiously scribbles down a note. Yup, understood. We'll be sure to fix that. Planck sets it down and picks up another Proto-type. I can't emphasize enough that we need these shoes to be absolutely perfect. Absolutely. Nike has all sorts of ways to quash our entry into the sneaker market. They can outspend us on advertising. They can cut their prices. The one thing we have is performance. People believe our products are better, so we need to make sure they stay better. I understand. We'll make sure the shoes are perfect. Planck nods and picks up the next shoe. The Proto-Speed. It's not technically a running shoe, but it is designed for people who prioritize quickness. Planck inspects the shoe and then presses into the cushioning. This time, he nods approvingly. Yep, this one's looking good. Cushionings in the right place. It's light. The designer smiles. And Planck feels a bit of the tension he's carrying in his shoulders. Start to ease. A lot is riding on these shoes. Under armor spent several million dollars on an upcoming Super Bowl ad to announce their entry into the sneaker market. Planck believes that in the long run, shoes will outsell a peril. But this is a major shift for the company. And first impressions matter. Under armor's three different cross trainers hit the market in early May 2008 as part of their prototype line. The reviews are mostly positive. Some critics stock the design. One reviewer even calls their look "dorky." But most generally praise the shoes comfort support and snug fit. Nike responds by releasing a new version of their cross trainer and marketing it heavily. And despite positive reviews, sales of underarmers cross trainers are disappointing. Analysts criticized the decision to run a Super Bowl ad in February three months before the shoes became available. By the time they hit stores, many customers had forgotten about the hype. Just three weeks after the cross trainers go on sale, under armor holds its annual investors day. There, Planck announces something bold that a running shoe is coming in early 2009. But those sales are even worse. By 2010, underarmer controls just 1% of the athletic shoe market. Planck isn't deterred. He still believes under armor can dominate the shoe market and take on Nike. He orders his marketing department to stop positioning under armor as an apparel company. From now on, it's a "performance" company. Then, in the fall of 2010, under armor releases its first basketball shoe. It's a bold move. Nike controls around 95% of the U.S. basketball shoe market and they're willing to spend big to protect their share of it. In 2009, Nike's marketing budget was three times underarmers total sales. Analysts warned that another failed shoe could damage underarmers entire brand. But Planck insists he's learned from past mistakes. He hires several former Nike executives with deep expertise in the basketball shoe category. Instead of another splashy Super Bowl ad, he gives limited numbers of the shoe to prime retail locations to build demand. By 2011, a year after the basketball shoe debuted, there are signs of progress. Underarmers shoe sales are up 27% from the previous year. But perspective matters. Nike remains miles ahead of them, controlling 42% of the American Athletic shoe market, while underarmers is still hovering around 1%. One of the problems is that underarmers shoes still aren't seen as "cool". In fall 2011, the company provides shoes to two teams playing in the finals of a high-profile youth league in New York City. The championship game is held at Madison Square Garden. These are some of the most promising teenage basketball players in the country. Even though the young athletes seem to like playing in their underarmers shoes, as soon as the game is over, almost all of them change their mind. back into their Nike Air Jordans. And that's what Under Armour decides it needs to boost its cool factor. A hot young basketball star to build a signature shoe around. Just one problem here. When you start chasing cool, you risk cooling off what made you hot in the first place. Under Armour 1 by obsessing over performance, function over flash. But basketball isn't just performance. It's culture, status, style, identity. So when they moved into sneakers, especially hoops, they needed to attack a different problem. Not does it work, but how's it look walking into the gym? The danger here is losing sight of a basic lesson. The skills that win you your first market are not always the skills that will win you the next one. In 2013, Under Armour learns that Golden State Warrior star Steph Curry is unhappy at Nike. He feels overlooked, and like Nike isn't paying enough attention to him. There was also a disastrous meeting where Nike executives mispronounced his name and accidentally used another player's name in a PowerPoint presentation. If Under Armour can sign a star of Curry's caliber and poach him from Nike, that would send a powerful message that Under Armour belongs. But it won't be easy to convince Curry to take a chance on a company that's so new to the basketball shoe market. Hey, remember our series on Gatorade? How they chased out Michael Jordan and plied him with Cuban cigars, special dinners, the rock star treatment? Here's the thing, Curry already knows he's got the cool that Under Armour needs. The trick is convincing him he won't be squandering that capital by signing with Under Armour. The key? Challenger brands don't win by matching the incumbent. They win by making their partners feel bigger than they would inside the machine. So, Plank and the other Under Armour executives come up with a creative plan to peak Curry's interest, one that involves Curry's locker neighbor, Kent Bayesmore. It's 2013 in Oakland, California. Golden State warrior point guard's death Curry is pulling his jersey over his head. When a shoe box tumbles out of Kent Bayesmore's locker, Bayesmore laughs and picks up the box, struggling to shove it back into his locker, which is overflowing with shoe boxes, shirts, hoodies and more. Curry asks him what all of that is. Bayesmore shrugs. It's from Under Armour, his sponsor, they keep sending him gear. When he first joined the team, Under Armour sent 19 boxes of merchandise to his apartment. He looks at Curry and says he can't imagine how many boxes Curry must get from Nike. He's a real star while Bayesmore is just a rookie and an undrafted one at that. Curry gives Bayesmore a curt nod. He receives the merchandise Nike is contractually required to send him, but he certainly isn't showered with product the way Bayesmore seems to be. As Curry heads towards the trainer for a pre-game stretching session, he makes a mental note to ask his agent to "call Under Armour." They seem like they'd pay attention to him in a way that Nike doesn't. In fall 2013, Under Armour and Steph Curry announced they've signed a deal. The company promises that a Curry signature shoe akin to Nike's Air Jordan will be released soon. Under Armour is now seen as a major player in the basketball shoe market. And a year later, in 2014, the company surpasses Adidas to become the number two sportswear brand in the United States. But Nike still looms far ahead with a market cap that is five times bigger. And in Under Armour's relentless pursuit of Nike, there's a growing risk. In trying to become bigger, they just might forget what made them great in the first place. From Audible Originals, this is episode one of Under Armour's Attack on Nike for Business Wars. A quick note about recreations you've been hearing, in most cases we can't know exactly what was said at the time, those scenes or dramatizations, but they are based on research. And if you'd like to check out more, we recommend Under Armour's CEO Kevin Plank and his underdog horse farm by Monty Burk, published in Forbes. Also, Under Armour gets serious by Daniel Roberts, published in Fortune, and a half-court shot for Under Armour by Matthew Townsend, published in Bloomberg. I'm your host David Brown, Austin Rackless, wrote this story, "Boy Sacting by Chloe Elmore, our senior producers are Jenny Bloom and Emily Frost, our producer is Tristan Donovan of Yellowwood. Karen Lo is our producer emeritus, our managing producer is Desi Blaylon. Back checking by Gabrielle Jolay, Kyle Randall is our lead sound designer, sound designed by Josh Morales, executive producer for Audible Jenny Lauer Beckman, head of creative development at Audible, Kate Naden, head of Audible Originals for the America, Marshall Lui, chief content officer, Rachel Giazza, Copyright 2026 by Audible Originals LLC, sound reporting Copyright 2026 by Audible Originals LLC. Follow Business Wars on the Audible app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to all episodes of Business Wars Add Free by joining Audible.