Think back—do you still have a pair of Nike sneakers in your closet today?
Let me drop a few familiar names: the Air Force 1, commonly known as the "Air Force One," and the AJ, a once-iconic trendsetter. Back in the day, walking through school wearing a pair of AJs could easily make you the center of attention. But now? Head over to Top Sports' online mini-program—you'll find running shoes originally priced at 549 yuan now going for just 329 yuan, and 999 yuan pairs slashed to 599 yuan, with additional offers like "10% off for two items" or "15% off for three."
This isn't a "618 Flash Sale" or "Double 11 Early Access"—it's Top Sports clearing inventory after being "dumped" by Nike. So what's going on?
On July 22, Nike officially announced that it would terminate its online sales authorization with Top Sports and Pou Sheng—partners for 27 and 25 years, respectively—by January 1, 2027. The news sent Top Sports International's stock plunging over 30% intraday, while Pou Sheng International also dropped more than 10%. Top Sports described the termination as having a "major negative impact" on its short-term business. After all, Top Sports sells about 5.6 billion yuan worth of Nike products online annually, accounting for 22% of its total revenue. With one statement from Nike, that business vanished. For Top Sports, this breakup is brutal.
Yet Nike is hardly in a better position. Cutting ties with partners of over two decades isn't about heartlessness—it's driven by a single goal: price control.
In June, a trending topic emerged: "Original price 899 yuan Nike drops to 429 yuan, but consumers still won't buy." You see, the issue isn't the discount itself—it's that consumers now view such prices as the new normal. Nike's brand image has been eroded by price wars among its retailers, shifting from "aspirational" to "I can wait for a better deal."
Nike's latest fiscal 2026 fourth-quarter report showed Greater China revenue at $1.297 billion, down 12% year-over-year, marking the eighth consecutive quarter of negative growth in the region. Nike's leadership blames this decline on "frequent discounting in digital channels." The company wants to reclaim pricing power, believing that by centralizing its channels, it can stabilize prices and restore its brand appeal.
However, putting all the blame on retailers is a bit unfair. The situation Nike faces today is largely a result of its own decision from several years ago—its direct-to-consumer (DTC) strategy.
Starting in 2017, Nike aggressively cut out middlemen, opening its own stores, developing its own apps, and building its own website to bring consumers under its direct control. The strategy itself wasn't flawed, but the problem lay in Nike's product: insufficient localization, lack of innovation, and declining consumer interest. When products don't sell, inventory piles up, and the direct channel is forced to offer discounts.
When the official channel starts discounting, retailers sitting on millions of dollars in inventory struggle even more. To survive, they follow suit, often cutting prices even deeper. This creates a vicious cycle: more discounts erode brand value, and a less valuable brand sells even less.
In 2020, Nike attempted a similar move in Europe and the US, but it led to severe inventory overstock and inadvertently opened the door for niche running brands like Hoka and On Running. Some analysts warn that repeating the same mistake in China could lead to history repeating itself. And while Nike contracts, local competitors like Anta and Li Ning won't hesitate—they'll eagerly snap up any market share Nike leaves behind.
So, while doubling down on DTC, Nike is also exploring another path: localization. Nike's newly appointed Greater China General Manager, Scott Shen, recently named the company's first "Local Product Innovation Vice President," responsible for "designed in China, made in China" products. At the same time, Nike is ramping up localized activities to rekindle Chinese consumers' emotional connection and memories of the brand.
In short, Nike's move to phase out thousands of online retailers is a high-stakes gamble. If it pays off, the pricing system will stabilize, and the brand will regain its "cool" factor. If it fails, it could simply hand over market share to domestic competitors.
Regardless, as someone who once owned several pairs of Nikes, I feel a mix of emotions. The brand carries so many youthful memories—from classrooms to sports fields, from campus to the workplace. Watching it transform from an "icon" to a "discount king" is truly bittersweet.
This retail purge might just be the beginning of Nike's self-rescue journey. Will you still pay attention to the new products Nike plans to launch next?
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