The Biggest Failure In a Century of Sneakers

The story of a generational talent undone by a brand that never understood sneaker culture.

I’ve been in the sneaker business since 2007... from Eastbay’s first blog to Complex to StockX to Stadium Goods. I’ve watched brands rise and fall, seen billion-dollar deals get made, and collected shoes nobody else cared about. We’ve seen plenty of failures. Bad designs, worse marketing, athletes who couldn’t move product. But we’ve never seen anything quite like this... a brand taking the greatest shooter who ever lived and somehow making him uncool.

It’s been 103 years since the Converse Chuck Taylor All Stars were first released... 103 years of brands getting it right and getting it wrong. They weren’t the first pair of basketball shoes, but they are widely considered the starting point. It’s been decades since sneakers were just shoes. They’re symbols of power, taste, and belonging. And when a brand gets it wrong, the whole world feels it. This week, we witnessed one of the biggest failures in that entire history.

Sneaker culture felt the tremor… Stephen Curry and Under Armour are done. Thirteen years of hype and hope dissolve into disappointment, showing how brilliance can be wasted when culture is misunderstood. Under Armour’s basketball business, including the Curry brand, generates a mere $100 to $120 million annually. To put that in perspective, Nike’s Jordan Brand pulls in over $5 billion. Curry and Jordan were the faces of the game during their respective times. But that’s not a gap... that’s the Grand Canyon.

But what kills me is that this should have worked. This could have worked.

I’m saying this as someone who has a unique perspective on Under Armour’s sneaker journey. My initials are literally on a pair of their shoes – the Sole Collector Micro G Bloodline. Thanks to UA, I was at the ESPY Awards with Jacques Slade in 2013 when Robin Roberts gave that epic speech. I’ve collected dozens of rare Under Armour player exclusives since they launched their basketball line. I watched them from the beginning, and I believed in what they were trying to build.

2013: Stephen Curry signing autographs at Finish Line’s 3-point contest event. Photo by Grant Tucker.

Not to mention, when I was with Finish Line, we partnered with UA to build a basketball court in the mall and had Stephen Curry participate in a 3-point contest with fans. This was before he had a signature Under Armour shoe and years before the Curry Brand came to be. I was invested from the get-go.

Catch me in the way, way background at the 1-minute mark…

Their early design philosophy was reminiscent of those wild early 2000s AND1 shoes. I believe they actually had designers from AND1 on the team. Those chunky, strap-heavy designs that seemed outlandish then? They’d be absolutely perfect for today’s Y2K-obsessed sneaker culture. The irony is painful... Under Armour was accidentally ahead of its time, then lost its nerve and tried to play it safe.

When Curry signed with Under Armour in 2013, leaving Nike’s $4 million annual deal for roughly the same money from UA, it was about opportunity, not cash. Curry saw himself as the face of something new, not just another athlete in Nike’s stable. It was the right choice. And initially, it worked. Under Armour’s footwear sales nearly doubled in some quarters. The Curry One launched in February 2015 with Jamie Foxx commercials. By 2016, analysts were projecting Curry would overtake LeBron James as the active player with the best-selling signature sneaker in America.

Looking at it now, I don’t think Under Armour ever understood what they had.

Stephen Curry revolutionized basketball. He changed how the game is played, made the three-pointer the most important shot in basketball, and led the Warriors to one of the greatest dynasties in NBA history. Four championships. Two MVPs. The greatest shooter who ever lived. His cultural impact transcended sports… everyone from your nephew to your grandmother knows who Steph Curry is. I got an up-close look at how big he was when I was at StockX, working directly with the Cavaliers as they somehow stole one of Curry’s championships from him. Even in Detroit and Cleveland, there were Curry fans.

Yet somehow, Under Armour managed to make him uncool.

Nothing exemplifies Under Armour’s failure more than the infamous Curry 2 Low “Chef” shoes from 2016, aka The Chef Curry Disaster. Released during the NBA Finals, these all-white atrocities became the most mocked sneaker in internet history. Twitter had a field day. They called them “nurse shoes,” “dad shoes,” “the official shoe of the Cheesecake Factory.” One comedian said they looked like “plain unflavored yogurt.” The memes were ruthless... people photoshopped them onto retirement home residents, added crying Jordan faces, set them to the Seinfeld theme song. Why lean into Curry’s “nice guy” off-court image when the man is a stone-cold killer on the court?

The worst part? Curry himself was ready to wear them in Game 4 of the Finals, but according to CBS Sports, Warriors GM Bob Myers and his agent talked him out of it, citing ankle concerns. Even his own team knew they were a disaster.

This wasn’t a bad colorway... it was a fundamental misunderstanding of sneaker culture. Basketball shoes aren’t just performance products; they’re status symbols, fashion statements, cultural artifacts. Nike understands this. Adidas understands this. Under Armour thought they were making athletic equipment when they should have been making art.

Let’s address the elephant in the room...the Kevin Plank problem. When Under Armour CEO Kevin Plank came out in support of Trump, it didn’t just hurt the brand politically. It revealed a deeper cultural disconnect. Sneaker culture is intrinsically tied to hip-hop, to Black culture, to progressive youth movements. Under Armour was trying to sell to a culture they fundamentally didn’t understand or respect.

The company kept talking about “performance DNA” and “product innovation” while completely missing that young people don’t buy basketball shoes to play basketball. They buy them to look good, to flex, to participate in culture. Under Armour was stuck in its apparel roots, having a conversation about moisture-wicking technology while everyone else was talking about hoops culture and identifying with the lifestyle.

Think about what Curry’s rise coincided with... the explosion of social media, the Warriors becoming must-see TV, the cultural shift toward three-point shooting that every kid in every driveway in America was trying to emulate. Curry should have owned the youth basketball culture. Every kid shooting threes should have been doing it in Curry shoes, not Kobes or LeBrons.

Stephen Curry wears his 4 NBA Championship rings. Photo by Devin Allen.

Instead, on the secondary market where sneaker culture’s thermometer really lives, Curry shoes barely register. I’m not saying the resale game is everything, but when StockX is selling 40,000 pairs of Ja Morant’s Nikes, and Curry’s UA shoes don’t even make a blip on the radar, clearly something is off track.

Instead of trying to connect with basketball culture where it is, they tried taking Curry away from the game to make lifestyle shoes. It says everything when Bloomberg is writing about how misguided the direction of the Curry Brand has been.

My frustration is that Under Armour had all the pieces. They had the right athlete at the right time. They had initial momentum. Those first few Curry models actually sold well. They had a founder in Plank who was willing to spend money and take risks (or so it seemed). They even had decent technology... the shoes performed well on court.

What they didn’t have was taste. They didn’t have cultural literacy. They didn’t have the confidence to let Curry be Curry.

So now Curry Brand goes independent, though Under Armour will release the Curry 13 in February as a farewell. Curry owns the brand outright and can seek new partners. At 36 years old, with probably just a couple more prime seasons left, this could be his last chance to build something that outlasts his playing career.

Kevin Plank, in the breakup announcement, said this separation lets “two strong teams do what they do best.” That’s corporate speak for “we have no idea how to make cool shoes and we’re tired of trying.”

The tragedy here is that Under Armour’s failure with Curry might have set back the entire landscape of athlete endorsement deals. It proved that even transcendent talent can’t overcome bad product, worse marketing, and disconnected leadership. It showed that the basketball sneaker establishment might be impossible to challenge.

As someone who believed in Under Armour’s vision from the start, who wore their gear, who collected their shoes when nobody else cared... this hurts to watch. Those early Micro G and Anatomix models were wild, innovative, and different. They took risks. They had personality. Somewhere along the way, they got scared. They tried to be Nike instead of being themselves.

And the saddest part? Those chunky, strap-heavy early designs they abandoned? They’d be fire in today’s market. Every design trend they walked away from has come back around. They were sitting on gold and traded it for whatever the Curry 2 Low “Chef” was supposed to be. I could go on and on about a low-top shoe for someone who wears insane ankle braces, and don’t get me started on the UA logo itself.

Stephen Curry deserved better. Basketball culture deserved better. Hell, Under Armour deserved better from itself. This partnership should have changed the game. Instead, it’ll go down as arguably the biggest missed opportunity in sneaker history... a cautionary tale about what happens when you sign a generational talent but lack the vision (or more likely, listening ability) to build something worthy of their greatness.

The irony is crushing. Under Armour’s slogan is “Protect This House.” They had Steph Curry, the perfect foundation for an empire, and they couldn’t even protect that.

Now Curry’s free to build his own house. Let’s hope whoever partners with him next understands that they’re not just selling shoes... they’re selling culture, identity, and the legacy of one of basketball’s greatest players.

Because Stephen Curry changed basketball forever. It’s a shame Under Armour couldn’t change with him.

I’m Nick Engvall, and I’ve been writing about sneakers and culture for nearly two decades, from building Eastbay’s first blog to being employee #9 at StockX. I run Sneaker History (website and podcast) and write The Sneaker Newsletter... the stories that connect what we wear to who we are. If you think I’m wrong about Curry and UA, let me know.