In 2017, I wrote Long Shot: The Triumphs and Struggles of an NBA Freedom Fighter, a book that chronicled my journey as an athlete and an advocate for social justice. Through that journey, I learned that systemic racism—those deeply embedded forces of white supremacy—extend their reach far beyond the basketball court. The business of basketball, like every other major industry, is no exception. If you challenge the status quo, if your message doesn’t align with the corporate business model, you become a problem. And in a world where those who speak out are silenced, that problem is swiftly erased.
When Wayfarer Studios, led by Justin Baldoni and billionaire Steve Sarowitz, approached me to turn my book into a documentary, I saw an opportunity to tell my story—the real story. But their vision wasn’t aligned with mine. They saw my journey as a chance to ride the wave of The Last Dance and capitalize on the Michael Jordan hype without ever touching the uncomfortable truths of systemic racism. They wanted to make me a footnote in the Jordan narrative, but my story stands apart. It’s about standing up for Black America when few dared to do so, risking everything in the process.
As someone who was blackballed from the NBA for speaking out against racial injustice, I knew the cost of telling the truth. In 1992, I delivered a letter to President George H.W. Bush, demanding action on economic inequality and racial discrimination. It wasn’t a message the NBA wanted attached to its shiny, corporate image. Now, decades later, I find myself in a similar battle—this time, not with the NBA but with Hollywood. Wayfarer wanted to water down my story, to present it in a way that wouldn’t upset corporate partners. But I wasn’t willing to let them rewrite my truth.
What they didn’t want to address was my activism—how I criticized fellow Black athletes for not using their platforms to speak out for the disenfranchised. They didn’t want to touch the story of how, even after winning two NBA championships, I was shut out because my voice challenged the system. Instead, they wanted a feel-good, sellable product. But my story is not about feel-good moments—it’s about standing firm in the face of injustice.
There’s a deeper level to this. Wayfarer didn’t just want to shape the narrative; they wanted control over who told it. They insisted on replacing Jivi Singh, the British-Indian filmmaker who spent five years working alongside me. Despite his understanding of the complexities of systemic injustice, Baldoni’s team claimed he wasn’t “Black enough” to direct. This, coming from a man who had no issue directing a film about female domestic abuse, a topic he hadn’t lived through, was the height of hypocrisy. Their gatekeeping wasn’t about who was qualified—it was about who had control.
And now, just as I fought against the NBA’s grip, I see how global basketball itself is evolving, particularly with the rise of African talent in the sport. The NBA’s push into Africa through initiatives like the Basketball Africa League (BAL) is a step forward, but it’s also a reminder of the business interests that shape the game. Yet, there’s an untapped opportunity here, especially in light of recent developments in global sports.
The arrival of the Saudi-backed LIV Golf shook the golf world, challenging the established power structures and creating a rival league that is reshaping the sport. Imagine if a similar movement took place in basketball. What if Saudi Arabia, or another Middle Eastern powerhouse, launched a rival league to the NBA, investing in the development of African talent and infrastructure? Such an initiative could create a true alternative, one where athletes are empowered, where their voices are celebrated, not silenced.
I’ve long believed that sports have the potential to unify people across the globe. But for that to happen, the business side of sports needs to change. We need leagues that don’t just profit off the labor of athletes from underrepresented regions but invest in those regions, giving back to the communities that produce the stars of tomorrow. Africa, with its incredible depth of talent, is ready for such investment. Countries across the continent are realizing the power of sports as a tool for social and economic growth. But it will take vision and bold moves to truly shift the balance of power.
As a two-time NBA champion and former shooting coach for the Los Angeles Lakers, I’ve seen the game evolve first hand. But one of my greatest passions remains helping the next generation of players develop. I would love nothing more than to return “home” to Africa and be part of that growth. To help build a league that nurtures the raw talent of young players across the continent would allow me to practice the very thing I love most—teaching the art of basketball. It’s a dream I’ve carried with me for years, one that grows stronger as I see Africa’s rising influence in the game.
Beyond Africa, the Middle East has also shown a growing interest in sports, and not just as spectators. Countries like Saudi Arabia and Qatar are reshaping their futures by investing in sports and talent development. If those resources were directed toward basketball, we could see the birth of a global league that transcends the limitations of the NBA model. It would be a league that isn’t bound by the corporate gatekeeping that has stifled voices like mine. It would be a league for the future—where athletes from Harlem to Johannesburg, from Chicago Heights to Cairo, could play the game without losing their voice.
The reality is, you can’t shelve history forever. Just like my story, the stories of oppressed communities and the athletes who rise from them will find a way to be told. The new generation of athletes is equipped with tools that my generation never had—instant connectivity through social media, platforms that can galvanize support and spark movements in real time. Corporate entities, whether in Hollywood or the NBA, can no longer control the narrative.
I stood up to the NBA’s systemic racism, and now I’m standing up to Hollywood’s attempts to rewrite my truth. But my fight isn’t just about basketball. It’s about ensuring that our stories—the real stories—are told by those who lived them, not by those who want to profit from them. If it takes a new league, a new vision, and new allies from places like Africa and the Middle East to make that happen, then let’s build it.
Our voices won’t be silenced any longer. We’re coming for what’s ours—our stories, our platforms, and our future.
