On opening night in Kingston, Jamaica, the Grand Slam Track League faced an uncomfortable truth: the stands were nearly empty.
Organizers quickly began giving away tickets for the rest of the weekend, hoping to spark some local enthusiasm. But the optics were undeniable. For a league marketed as the sport’s most ambitious U.S.-centric revival in decades, it was a muted debut.
This wasn’t just any meet. It was the premiere event of a new series backed by Olympic legend Michael Johnson, with a slick marketing campaign, U.S. broadcast deals via Peacock and The CW, and the explicit goal of reimagining track and field as mainstream entertainment. The stakes couldn’t be higher—for the league and for the sport. But so far, the silence from fans, both in the bleachers and online, is louder than the starter’s pistol.
A Quiet Start in Kingston
Grand Slam Track was announced as a direct challenge to the international-centric structure of the Diamond League. While the latter opens its 2025 season in China next month, Grand Slam launched April 5 in the Caribbean, where track fandom is deeply rooted—but often narrowly focused on sprinting stars. Without a Bolt or Fraser-Pryce on the program, turnout on Friday night was dismal. According to The Athletic, organizers pivoted to free admission for Saturday and Sunday just to avoid the embarrassment of empty seats two days in a row.
The TV side was more encouraging. Johnson secured a streaming partnership with Peacock and a linear broadcast deal with The CW Network, which plans to air key meets live in primetime slots. But that creates a new problem: streamers rarely release viewership data. There’s no clear sense of whether anyone outside of track die-hards even tuned in.
Without buzz, a startup league can’t survive. Track is already fighting for air in a crowded American sports landscape. If fans aren’t talking or sharing clips, it’s as if the meet didn’t happen at all.
The U.S. Audience Is Everything
Grand Slam’s entire value proposition hinges on one idea: that American fans are ready to embrace track and field as a viable entertainment product. That’s a tall order.
In recent years, the sport has largely lived on the margins in the United States, popping up every four years for the Olympics, then receding into a niche streaming world. NBC’s recent decision to drop the Diamond League from its broadcast lineup speaks volumes. Though still the Olympic rights holder, NBC clearly no longer sees week-to-week track as a viable property—especially one based in Europe and Asia, airing midweek at off-hours for U.S. viewers.
Grand Slam is attempting to flip that dynamic. The remaining five meets will take place entirely on American soil, starting April 20 at the Ansin Sports Complex in Miramar, Fla. But if turnout there mirrors what happened in Kingston—if the bleachers at a high school stadium are still half-empty—momentum could evaporate fast.
The U.S. is the most important market for sports entertainment. If track can’t succeed here, major brands won’t buy in. And if Grand Slam burns through its initial investment without delivering numbers, there may not be a second season.
Put the Stars First
To captivate a broader audience, Grand Slam needs more than fast times—it needs personalities. Sports grow when fans have someone to root for and someone to root against. Right now, Grand Slam’s public face is its founder, Michael Johnson. That’s a problem.
Johnson is a legend, but he’s a suit now. The league needs more front-facing stars like Noah Lyles, Sha’Carri Richardson, or even rising firebrands like Erriyon Knighton. Without bold characters who can drive narratives, Grand Slam risks becoming just another meet series with decent production values and no cultural traction.
Think of any successful league—NBA, NFL, even pro tennis (which GST is modelled after)—and the template is clear: heroes and heels. Triumph and heartbreak. It’s about athletes who stir emotion and spark debate. That’s what pulls casual fans in. Johnson positioning himself as the face of Grand Slam is like the NFL asking Roger Goodell to lead its marketing campaign over Patrick Mahomes. It’s backwards.
A Sport Divided
The launch of Grand Slam has also brought into sharp relief the growing divide in global track. World Athletics and the Diamond League are leaning further into deals with host countries like China, Qatar and potentially Saudi Arabia, chasing revenue through awkward geopolitical partnerships. Meets are increasingly detached from fan experience and more aligned with government-backed investments that serve strategic realpolitick interests.
That structure may offer financial stability, but it does little to grow the sport’s cultural relevance in the United States. In contrast, Grand Slam is banking everything on American-style presentation, athlete storytelling, and Friday night lights. One league is becoming more opaque and globalized; the other, localized and exposure-hungry. It’s hard to say which model will win—but only one is trying to win over the average U.S. sports fan.
No Second Acts
There’s a saying that in the United States, there are no second acts in American life. Grand Slam Track doesn’t have the luxury of a slow burn or a quiet first season. It needs to generate buzz now. That means packed bleachers in Florida, released viewership data—if the numbers are good—and, above all, compelling storytelling that creates friction and excitement.
Track and field has been waiting for its American renaissance. If Grand Slam fails to deliver it, there may not be another shot.
