Beijing ? On an average weeknight last month, a National Basketball Association game between two strong teams drew a television audience of about 1.1 million households in the United States. On Nov. 20, a Wednesday morning broadcast of a game between the Houston Rockets and one of the league’s worst teams, the Cleveland Cavaliers, pulled in 5.5 million viewers in China; another 11.5 million tuned in for a repeat of the game at night.

The main attraction? The Rockets’ new center, Yao Ming.

Millions of Chinese, young and old, basketball buffs and novices, are dodging work, skipping class and losing sleep to catch a glimpse of the towering, young Shanghai native who dunked his way out of this country’s fledgling basketball league and onto the shimmering stage of the NBA as this year’s No. 1 draft pick.

For Western corporations who see China as one of capitalism’s last unconquered frontiers and the most tantalizing market on the planet, the Yao phenomenon is a case study in how the sheer scale of the world’s most populous nation can offer mind-boggling opportunities and perhaps transform a business overnight if exploited successfully.

It’s also the story of how a 7-foot-6, 22-year-old basketball player with a buzz cut and a shy smile has captured the imagination of a complex, fast-changing country consumed by a desire to prove it is a great nation, ready to compete with the world’s best in any arena. Yao arrived in Houston this fall as a curiosity but in seven weeks he has emerged as a force on the court, averaging more than 11 points and seven rebounds per game despite limited playing time.

Newspapers have added extra pages for Yao news, analyzing his every rebound, charting his adjustment to American life, even debating whether Chinese authorities will take too much of his four-year, $17.8 million contract. Television stations are showing more NBA games, especially Rockets games, and ratings are skyrocketing. Web sites devoted to Yao have proliferated, and several publications have placed him on their short lists for man of the year honors.

“If Yao Ming’s on TV, it doesn’t matter what time it is,” said Qian Zhaofei, 24, a graduate student in Beijing who runs an Internet site that posts running commentary on Yao games for those who can’t get to a television. “If we hear about it, we’ll sneak out of the lab and go back to the dorm to watch. We think he’s great. We’re proud of him.”

What makes this hoopla all the more remarkable is that it could just be the beginning. In Houston, the Rockets have distributed Yao growth charts and plastered the city with billboards bearing his image, and ESPN has run commercials showing him dangling out of a tiny bunk bed and performing tai chi – a series of exercises and postures developed in China – with the Rockets’ wobbly mascot. But there’s none of that yet in China, no Yao T-shirts or jerseys, no product endorsements or ad campaigns. Finding even a poster of him is a challenge.

This yawning gap between Yao’s immense popularity and his minimal commercial presence won’t last long. The NBA hopes Yao does for basketball in China what Michael Jordan did for the sport in the United States. Businesses around the world are salivating at the chance to use Yao to break into the enormous Chinese market, home to 1.3 billion people with rising average incomes and middle-class aspirations.

Just think: Yao’s first game against the Indiana Pacers was available in 287 million Chinese households – well more than double the number of all TV households in the United States.

“We’re being flooded with offers for endorsements, from multinationals, software firms, computer manufacturers, shoe companies, apparel companies. You name it, they all want in,” said Zhang Mingji, who heads Team Yao, the group of agents, consultants and others managing the player’s business interests. “We don’t really need to go out and seek opportunities. So we’re taking our time, and being very cautious. Yao has to fit with the companies, and the product has to fit with Yao.”