By the time the Kings and Clippers tip off at 8:00 p.m. on December 30th, 2025, millions of Americans will already be deep into their nightly routines. Teeth brushed. Pajamas on. White noise machines humming like jet engines. Meanwhile, the NBA—an organization worth roughly one kajillion dollars—will once again look directly into the exhausted eyes of new dads and say, “That sounds like a you problem.”
Because 8:00 p.m. isn’t just a start time anymore.
It’s a lifestyle choice.
And frankly, an aggressive one.
Once upon a time, 8:00 p.m. meant you’d casually sit down with a beer, maybe order some wings, and watch basketball until midnight without consequence. Now? 8:00 p.m. is when your baby finally might fall asleep, assuming Mercury isn’t in retrograde and the pacifier hasn’t inexplicably vanished into another dimension. New dads don’t watch NBA games anymore.
We monitor them.
We follow along like Cold War analysts, checking box scores every three minutes while rocking a human burrito who screams if you sit down too fast. The Kings could go on a 14–0 run and you’d never know, because at that exact moment your child decided they hate silence and demand movement—specifically walking in slow circles like you’re summoning a basketball demon.
The NBA insists these late starts are for “ratings” and “West Coast viewers.” But let’s be honest: the league has clearly never met a man who has to be up at 5:12 a.m. because his baby believes that sunrise is a suggestion.
By the time Kings–Clippers tips off, new dads are already mentally negotiating.
“Okay, if I stay up through the first quarter, that’s basically watching the game.”
“Second quarter doesn’t really matter anyway.”
“I can just check the score in the morning and pretend I watched it.”
This is how fandom dies—not with a loss, but with a notification at 1:37 a.m. that says FINAL when you’ve been asleep for three hours. And don’t even get us started on halftime.
Halftime used to be a chance to grab a snack.
Now it’s an emotional trap.
You tell yourself,
“I’ll just stay up through halftime and then decide.”
But halftime lasts approximately the length of an entire Marvel movie, and somewhere between the fourth commercial break and the fifth preview for a game you’ll also be asleep for, your body shuts down like an iPhone at 1%.
Meanwhile, your phone is lighting up with group chat messages from your childless friends:
“DID YOU SEE THAT DUNK???”
“THIS GAME IS INSANE”
“BRO WHERE YOU AT”
Where are you at?
You’re in the nursery.
In the dark.
Holding a bottle.
Watching a live box score refresh like it’s the stock market in 2008.
The NBA loves to market itself as “family-friendly,” which is fascinating, because nothing says family values like scheduling your marquee matchups at a time when parents are deciding whether brushing their teeth is worth the energy expenditure. There’s a simple solution here.
Start games earlier.
Give us a 6:30 tip.
A 7:00 tip.
Heck, give us a 3:45 p.m. “Nap Time Classic.”
Until then, new dads will continue their sacred ritual: waking up, checking the final score, watching two highlights on mute, nodding thoughtfully, and saying, “Yeah, I caught most of it.”
No you didn’t.
But in your heart, you were there.
Somewhere between the first diaper change and the last yawn, the Kings and Clippers played a basketball game at 8:00 p.m. And for new dads everywhere, it might as well have happened on Mars.
Sleep wins.
It always does.