Last month, the struggling Korean Basketball League launched a long-shot bid to liven up games with homegrown talent and reverse flagging ticket sales by banning foreign players who surpass 200 centimeters, a hair under 6-foot-7.
As a result, David Simon, a 6-foot-7 native of Illinois, found himself standing barefoot at KBL’s downtown headquarters to see how he measured up. He was double-teamed by two KBL staffers, who kept a close eye on him: No bending the knees. No drooping the shoulders.
After three measurements that day, Mr. Simon was found a fraction of an inch too tall. He boarded a flight back to the U.S. the next morning.
“I’ve never heard of being too tall to play basketball,” says Mr. Simon, 35 years old, who became a KBL legend after he was too short to play center in the National Basketball Association.
he new ban cuts back on imports of basketball giants. The KBL, which allows only two non-Korean players per team, will limit one of them to 186 centimeters, about 6-foot-1, and a second to 200 centimeters. The goal is to build interest in the game by minting more South Korean stars.
“It’s a matter of survival,” says Lee Sung-hoon, KBL’s secretary-general. He compares the decision with international trade: “[President Donald] Trump says he will make retaliatory trade measures and wants to protect his country’s products. You could say sports is different, but we don’t see it that way.”
Angry fans have filed around a dozen citizen petitions with the presidential Blue House, demanding the government reverse what they call the “evil” height rule.
“Don’t you think Kim Jong Un would be a better commissioner than Kim Young-ki?” read an online comment on the message board of a KBL fan site, comparing the commissioner with the basketball-crazed leader of North Korea.
“The KBL is a bureaucratic nightmare,” says Steve Jantosik, 31, an American attending a KBL game. “The big foreign guys dominate, but the Korean game is already fast-paced. The new rule isn’t going to work.”
The KBL’s height limits are shortsighted, critics say. Attendance for South Korea’s 10-team KBL has slumped, and its TV ratings are a fraction of professional volleyball. Even fans say the country’s pro basketball league is no better than watching a high school game.
During a recent KBL Finals game between the Seoul SK Knights and the Wonju DB Promy squad, fans shuffled quietly into the arena. The loudest pregame cheers were from vendors hawking dried filefish and $9 boxes of fried chicken.
As a result, David Simon, a 6-foot-7 native of Illinois, found himself standing barefoot at KBL’s downtown headquarters to see how he measured up. He was double-teamed by two KBL staffers, who kept a close eye on him: No bending the knees. No drooping the shoulders.
After three measurements that day, Mr. Simon was found a fraction of an inch too tall. He boarded a flight back to the U.S. the next morning.
“I’ve never heard of being too tall to play basketball,” says Mr. Simon, 35 years old, who became a KBL legend after he was too short to play center in the National Basketball Association.
he new ban cuts back on imports of basketball giants. The KBL, which allows only two non-Korean players per team, will limit one of them to 186 centimeters, about 6-foot-1, and a second to 200 centimeters. The goal is to build interest in the game by minting more South Korean stars.
“It’s a matter of survival,” says Lee Sung-hoon, KBL’s secretary-general. He compares the decision with international trade: “[President Donald] Trump says he will make retaliatory trade measures and wants to protect his country’s products. You could say sports is different, but we don’t see it that way.”
Angry fans have filed around a dozen citizen petitions with the presidential Blue House, demanding the government reverse what they call the “evil” height rule.
“Don’t you think Kim Jong Un would be a better commissioner than Kim Young-ki?” read an online comment on the message board of a KBL fan site, comparing the commissioner with the basketball-crazed leader of North Korea.
“The KBL is a bureaucratic nightmare,” says Steve Jantosik, 31, an American attending a KBL game. “The big foreign guys dominate, but the Korean game is already fast-paced. The new rule isn’t going to work.”
The KBL’s height limits are shortsighted, critics say. Attendance for South Korea’s 10-team KBL has slumped, and its TV ratings are a fraction of professional volleyball. Even fans say the country’s pro basketball league is no better than watching a high school game.
During a recent KBL Finals game between the Seoul SK Knights and the Wonju DB Promy squad, fans shuffled quietly into the arena. The loudest pregame cheers were from vendors hawking dried filefish and $9 boxes of fried chicken.