NBA

‘My dad was everything to me’: Bismack Biyombo is still healing in his NBA return

Months after his father’s death, the veteran center has revived his career and is contributing to a title contender in Phoenix

SALT LAKE CITY — Bismack Biyombo was missing his usual pregame text message from his father while sitting on a courtside seat about 90 minutes before tipoff of a Phoenix Suns road game last month. François Biyombo used to text his son with an encouraging message before his NBA games, then watch or check the box score in the early morning from the Democratic Republic of the Congo.

“My dad was everything to me,” Biyombo told The Undefeated before the Suns’ 105-97 win over the Utah Jazz on Jan. 26. “My whole career, I always get a text message from my dad before the game. Sometimes it would be 3 a.m. over there, 4 a.m. in the Congo. And I’m like, ‘Dad, what are you doing up at this time?’ He was always checking on my game.”

François Biyombo was a husband and father of six children, including the 29-year-old Bismack. Biyombo said his dad contracted COVID-19 in July, and though he would recover, it created other health ailments that eventually claimed his life in August 2021 at age 61. (Biyombo declined to go into detail about his father’s health complications.)

The 11-year NBA veteran, who signed with the Suns in January after taking time to mourn his father, certainly lost the daily words of wisdom, text messages, encouragement and love he received from a father who taught him how to be a good man and give back to the less fortunate.

What is not gone with the death of François Biyombo is the “blueprint into life” that his son lives by.

“He set an amazing example that I would forever be grateful [for],” Biyombo said. “He was my mentor. He was my business partner. He was my friend. There were times when things were hard and I would pick up the phone and just call him. Sometimes I would just cry and he was OK with it. With him and my mom, I would just call and just be myself and I knew that they would guide me in the right direction.

“I’m grateful because he raised some amazing kids. My brothers and my sisters, we’re so close and we are best friends. We can hang around each other [with] no problem. And I’m just grateful that God gave me the opportunity to have one unique father that give me a blueprint into life. People say, ‘Oh, you’re a good person. You never change.’ It’s because of the parents I have, the mom and dad. I treat everybody, whether you rich or poor, the same.”


Bismack Biyombo (right) emerged as a first-round prospect after a strong performance for the World Select Team against the U.S. junior national team at the Nike Hoop Summit in 2011.

Sam Forencich/NBAE via Getty Images

Bismack Biyombo Sumba was born in Lubumbashi, a copper mining city in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. He said his father worked as an engineer for a mining company and his mother worked part time for the government. There was a stretch when the Biyombos struggled financially, but they made it through.

“We went through our moments of poverty, eating once a day. One pair of shoes going to school. But then after that, things got better,” Biyombo said.

Biyombo was recruited to play basketball professionally in Qatar at age 16, but he said he couldn’t make it work because he lacked proper documentation. He was next discovered at a youth tournament in Yemen where he landed an opportunity to take part in basketball training in Spain.

After accepting a pro contract to play in Spain from 2009 to 2011, he landed a life-changing opportunity to play on the World Team in the 2011 Nike Hoop Summit. Biyombo impressed NBA scouts, recording the first triple-double in Hoop Summit history with 12 points, 11 rebounds and 10 blocks. The 6-foot-8 225-pounder was selected seventh overall in the 2011 NBA draft by the Sacramento Kings, and his rights were acquired by the then-Charlotte Bobcats.

While his son’s journey to the NBA was initially far-fetched, François Biyombo supported his basketball dream the best he could from the very start.

“This is how much I love my dad,” Biyombo said. “He spent his own money out of his pocket for me to chase my dreams. Look where I’m at now. There are some days where I sit back and think about if any parents would’ve done it. But it’s a commitment for a parent to just say, ‘I believe in your dream.’

“ ‘Although I don’t think you should go, you’re too young, but I trust you and I support you. But you have to promise me if you fail, you come back home and finish school.’ I said, ‘No problem, I promise you.’ But it was never a failure. Man, look where we are today.”

Biyombo averaged 5.1 points and 6.1 rebounds across 10 seasons with the Bobcats/Hornets, Toronto Raptors and Orlando Magic. While Biyombo was proud to reach 10 NBA seasons, he was frustrated playing on teams that did not compete for championships.

Biyombo told his agent, former NBA star B.J. Armstrong, that he wanted to sign only with a title contender as a free agent.

“That was the hardest part,” Biyombo said. “I talked to my agent and I said, ‘Look, the only way I will do it is for a contender. Otherwise, I’m not doing it.’ ”


Biyombo says his dad was the “strongest man I knew,” was blessed with amazing health and never spent one day as a patient in a hospital. That changed after he entered the hospital in Congo in July 2021. That news alarmed Biyombo, who left his offseason home in Miami and headed to Africa to see his father after talking to him on the phone.

“All of sudden, I just had a gut feeling like, ‘You got to get on a plane and go home,’ ” Biyombo said.

Biyombo said he regularly sought the opinion of doctors in Michigan, Congo and Turkey, who also corresponded with each other, about his father’s health. He next moved his father to Istanbul to get top-notch medical help in a hospital there. Biyombo, his mother and one of his sisters went to Turkey to be by his father’s side.

Biyombo said he spent about three weeks in Istanbul while his father was in the hospital. He would do basketball and fitness workouts in the morning before spending time with his father by his bedside the rest of the day. Biyombo was strong for his family on the outside, but mentally he started preparing himself for the worst as the situation didn’t improve.

“I had a conversation with my mom, who was with me in Turkey, and I said, ‘Ma, you know I just want to go home to Miami for one day. I need to sleep in my bed. Then I’ll come back,’ ” Biyombo said. “Around that time, I felt like I needed to maybe prepare myself. By then, emotionally, I was just too overwhelmed. You have to take care of family. And you have to take your emotions out of it.”

Biyombo departed Istanbul for Miami on Aug. 12, 2021, in hopes of getting a couple of days of rest before returning to Turkey. The day after he returned, he was awakened by one of his brothers knocking on the door loudly at about 2 a.m. He took a quick glance at his cellphone and his heart jumped as he saw countless missed calls and text messages from doctors.

Biyombo next opened his door and saw one of his brothers sobbing because of the news that their father had died.

“My dad was gone. I looked at the phone, text messages from doctors and all that. He was gone,” Biyombo said.

Biyombo had his father’s body returned to Congo, where the family had a memorial service for him on Aug. 21, 2021. He announced in English and French on Instagram that his father was “called to heaven” and stated that he “was no longer suffering and he was in a better place now watching over us.” Biyombo still yearned to play basketball again, but he was not certain when. With his indecision, interested teams signed other free agent big men.

Biyombo stayed in shape by playing basketball, boxing, running on the beach and dragging weights tied to his body while pushing a pickup truck. He also spent time fasting to get his mind right. With the NBA season underway, Biyombo said on Instagram that he was almost ready on Oct. 21, 2021.

“It speaks to who he is. To endure something like that and be back on the court a few months later is really hard.”

— Phoenix Suns coach Monty Williams

Meanwhile, the Suns continued to show interest and coach Monty Williams kept in touch.

“I wasn’t ready to play basketball. It would’ve been just a joke,” Biyombo said. “Emotionally, you’re kind of off in space. Even when I talked to head coach Monty he was like, ‘With this thing, you have to take the time to heal.’ ”

Biyombo and Williams got to know each other while working a Basketball Without Borders camp in Africa. Williams was a big fan of Biyombo as a person and a big man. Williams said he and Suns general manager James Jones had conversations about Biyombo during NBA free agency that began Aug. 2, 2021. The Suns initially tried to sign Biyombo in October, Williams said.

“Just being around him over there in Africa, I was like, ‘This is the type of guy I’d love to coach,’ ” Williams said of Biyombo.

Bismack Biyombo (18) wanted to return to the NBA, but only for a championship contender. He got his wish with Chris Paul (left) and the Phoenix Suns, who have the NBA’s best record.

Cole Burston/Getty Images

With the condition of joining a contender, Biyombo told Armstrong he was mentally and physically ready to return to the NBA in December 2021. On New Year’s Day, Biyombo was officially back in the NBA, signing a 10-day hardship contract with the Suns amid players being in health and safety protocols.

“My dad’s biggest thing was whatever the struggle is, you have to fast and pray,” Biyombo said. “That’s the way we were raised. So, I fasted and prayed about it.”

The Suns entered 2022 with the NBA’s best record at 27-8, but two of their centers, Deandre Ayton and JaVale McGee, were placed in health and safety protocols, and another, Frank Kaminsky, was out with a knee injury. Biyombo made an immediate impact on the Suns, averaging 11.1 points, 8.1 rebounds and 1.2 blocks in 22.8 minutes in January.

“He plays hard. He’s active. He defends. He sets screens and rolls … I’m going to have a quick chemistry with anyone who sets screens for me,” Suns All-Star guard Chris Paul said.


Williams said Biyombo shared the story of his father’s death during a road trip to Indianapolis in January while they were both riding exercise bikes. Williams said he also learned about the love Biyombo had for his family and how he aided them.

“It speaks to who he is,” Williams said. “To endure something like that and be back on the court a few months later is really hard.”

After three impressive games, the Suns signed Biyombo for the rest of the season on Jan. 11. His role has diminished in February with Ayton and McGee back in uniform.

Biyombo, however, is ecstatic to be on a winning team with true championship aspirations. And if the proud son of François Biyombo can win his first NBA title with Phoenix, expect there to be tears of joy this time.

“I’m so grateful to God that God put me in the position to heal and put me in the situation that I prayed for, and I’m extremely grateful and thankful for it,” Biyombo said.

Marc J. Spears is the senior NBA writer for The Undefeated. He used to be able to dunk on you, but he hasn’t been able to in years and his knees still hurt.

This Story Tagged: NBA Bismack Biyombo Phoenix Suns
Black History Always

Black history past and present resounds in new documentary ‘The Loyola Project’

Current Loyola Chicago basketball player Lucas Williamson connects with the 1963 NCAA title team

There’s a scene in the new documentary The Loyola Project where members of Loyola Chicago’s 1963 national championship team recount their experiences over Zoom with the school’s current players.

Loyola’s 1963 team, featuring four Black starters, led the small Jesuit school on the northeast side of Chicago to college basketball’s biggest prize. But if Jerry Harkness or his Black teammates crossed Sheridan Road from campus to visit a barbershop, they were turned away.

“They would not cut Black guys’ hair,” Harkness said on the call, which occurred during the unrest in the summer of 2020 that followed the police killings of Breonna Taylor and George Floyd.

Even on campus, Loyola’s Black players “all kind of knew our place,” former forward Ron Miller added. They were invited to campus parties, but only as tokens — designated wallflowers who couldn’t dance or interact with the white students.

The film’s narrator, Lucas Williamson, spoke next: “I expected to hear the ’63 guys face discrimination when traveling South, or maybe even on the court by opponents. But to know they were also disrespected at home makes me furious.”

The emotion resonates in Williamson’s voice throughout The Loyola Project, which premiered this week and will be screened Friday on Loyola’s campus. Through spring 2022, the documentary will be screened at 63 colleges and universities in the U.S. and Canada as part of the 63 for 63 Screening Series.

Williamson is not only the film’s narrator and one of three co-writers, but he’s a prominent Black player in his final season at Loyola. Like Harkness, Williamson is a team captain and a star. Like Harkness, Williamson helped the Ramblers enter the national spotlight, first as a freshman when they reached the 2018 Final Four, and then last year when they advanced to the Sweet 16.

But the challenges Harkness and his teammates faced in the early 1960s, in Williamson’s hometown and on the same campus he now occupies, left a lasting impression on the senior.

“These guys had to deal with a whole bunch of stuff that I can’t even imagine, and then having to represent themselves in a certain way, in a certain light, regardless of how they felt and how they were being treated, even on campus,” he told The Undefeated. “That’s what stuck out to me the most. I started to understand what they went through.

“Using my narration and my voice to put a perspective on what happened, it just added a little bit of depth to how I could relate or tell the story.”

The Loyola Project is largely about connecting past and present, starting with the opening scene, which alternates clips from the 1963 title chase and the 2018 Final Four run. Williamson is the film’s most powerful connector, a current voice discussing topics such as race and civil rights, as well as their on-court strategy, and remembering the team that overcame much to become champion.

“It would have been fine if we handed him a script and he read it, but that’s not what this is,” Patrick Creadon, who directed the film, told The Undefeated. “This is Lucas telling the story. And it’s not just his voice, it’s his perspective. I have no license to comment on what a coach did on a road trip in 1963, because I didn’t play college basketball, but he does have that license. 

“It makes the story that much more interesting.”


After arriving at Loyola in the fall of 2017, Williamson learned tidbits about the 1963 team. He caught up with Harkness and others at games and practices. He knew about the “Iron Five,” the Loyola starters who rarely came off the court. He heard about the “Game of Change,” when Mississippi State defied a state injunction against playing teams with Black players and sneaked out of Starkville to play Loyola in the NCAA tournament. But his overall knowledge, like many, was limited.

In 2018, Williamson met Creadon while attending the premiere of Hesburgh, another Creadon documentary, about longtime Notre Dame president and civil rights advocate Rev. Theodore Hesburgh. The Loyola film was in its early stages and needed a narrator. Creadon, a Chicago native, kept in touch with Williamson, who learned of the parallels he had with some of the 1963 players.

“This story has a lot to do with Black history,” Willamson said. “Being a young African American myself, I could tell a different side of the story, be able to see things and give my input, a different perspective on some of the events that happened back in ’63. [Creadon] approached me and was like, ‘Hey, do you want to give this narration thing a go?’ I said, ‘Sure! I’m always down to try new things.’ ”

Williamson began to work with Creadon’s crew, and it soon became clear he wouldn’t be a typical narrator. A journalism major as an undergrad now working on his master’s degree in digital marketing, Williamson emerged as a co-writer, with Julia Szromba and William Neal. He was given some scripts to move the story along, but also “got a little bit of freedom” to provide his view of key events and people, including former Ramblers coach George Ireland, a polarizing figure.

Ireland had faced mounting pressure to win — in 1959, he was hung in effigy on campus — and responded by recruiting more Black players. While most teams rarely played more than two Black players at the same time, Ireland started three and eventually four, at the end of the 1961-62 season. But he also chose to split up white and Black players on a 1962 trip to Loyola University New Orleans. White folks stayed in a New Orleans hotel, Black people stayed with local families across the Mississippi River in Algiers.

“It’s crazy to me that any coach would choose to separate their team, anywhere, for any reason,” Williamson said in the film. “It’s not just unsafe, it’s bad strategy. Your team is your family.”

Williamson also weighs in on Ireland’s reluctance to remove his starters, saying, “Trust me, I can tell you, being on the court 40 minutes straight is no joke. … That can break you.”

Ireland wasn’t totally beloved by players, but neither were many coaches in his era. Players still appreciated him for the opportunities he provided. As Creadon puts it, “He was a basketball coach. It wasn’t his job to be a civil rights hero.” But after retiring, Ireland portrayed himself as the latter, which didn’t sit well with the players.

“He did so many things right, but then he did so many things wrong,” Williamson said. “People close to him say that he was a complicated man.”

Loyola Chicago senior Lucas Williamson reads from a script in his home. Williamson served as a narrator and is credited as a co-writer on The Loyola Project, which details the Ramblers’ 1963 national championship team that broke racial barriers in basketball during an era of turbulence and change in American history.

Loyola Chicago

There’s also the hate mail sent to Loyola’s Black players, more than 300 letters, that Ireland had directed to him before they could be delivered. He never turned them over. The filmmakers viewed the letters and asked if they could be included in the documentary and released to the players, but Ireland’s family denied the requests.

“It’s tempting to hide the worst parts of our histories, to lock them away, pretend they don’t exist,” Williamson said in the film. “Maybe for Ireland, these letters were seen as a burden on the players, a distraction at the height of their season. Maybe it was easiest to just move past them. But the problem is, Ireland didn’t. Among those letters were threats so severe, he hired security for his daughters, a protection he never offered his players.”

The layers to the Loyola 1963 story, especially about race, are what makes it stand out to Williamson. The team won a championship on the court, but the story didn’t end there.

“The film is such a great tool,” Williamson said. “It’s going to spark conversation specifically to what an ally is, and what it truly means to be a part of a team.”


After Williamson agreed to narrate, Creadon met with him on several trips to Chicago. One time, they dove into the script, scene by scene, line by line. Then, the coronavirus pandemic hit, changing their communication with one another and their sources.

Production also took place during the Floyd and Taylor police killings, the social justice demonstrations that followed and the Jan. 6, 2021, attack on the U.S. Capitol.

“George Floyd impacted the film a lot, and some of the things that have happened since then, like Jan. 6,” Williamson said. “The temperature of racial issues in this country changed the way that we approached the film, changed the way that I felt about things.”

Williamson and his teammates had met some of the 1963 players before, especially during their Final Four run. But they bonded closer during the film’s production. The Zoom call in 2020 lasted 2½ hours.

Loyola Chicago guard Lucas Williamson (left) plays against Miami in the first round of the 2018 men’s NCAA tournament.

Loyola Chicago

“It was almost like a therapy session,” Creadon said. “I don’t use that term lightly. The guys from ’63 really opened up about their experiences and talked about why they were not very vocal at the time. The young guys genuinely admired and looked up to the older guys, but the older guys felt the same way about the young guys and the way that they’re more involved and outspoken about civil rights issues.

“It gives me goose bumps. It was two different generations talking to each other, and they have so much in common, but very different experiences as players.”

Williamson felt a particular kinship with Harkness, an All-American who went on to play in the NBA and ABA. Both men grew up playing at big-city YMCAs. As a kid, Harkness doubted his skills until one day at the Harlem YMCA in New York, when he received surprise encouragement from his hero, baseball legend Jackie Robinson. Williamson honed his game at Chicago YMCAs, where his mother, Louiza, worked as a director.

Harkness became the first Black fundraiser for United Way of Indianapolis, and also helped lead a mentoring organization for Black youth in the city. He remained the most visible representative of Loyola’s 1963 team until his death in August 2021 at 81.

One of Harkness’ quotes in the film about the Mississippi State game — “This is more than a game, this is history” – sticks with Williamson.

“I wish he could have been here for the premiere,” Williamson said. “I know he would have loved it. His legacy, it’s everlasting. He’s already a Loyola legend on the court. I just hope that off the court, [the film] enhances his legacy in the way that it should.”

Harkness and two other Loyola players mentioned in the film — Les Hunter, a star center for the 1963 team and a two-time ABA All-Star, and John Crnokrak, who finished his career in 1962 – died during its production. Creadon saw the film as “the last chance” to tell Loyola’s championship story from the players’ perspective.

Loyola’s 1963 team has previously been documented and celebrated, including a 2013 induction into the National Collegiate Basketball Hall of Fame. That same year, President Barack Obama met with the seven surviving members in the Oval Office. But other barrier-breaking teams have received more attention, including Texas Western, which won the national title in 1966 with five Black starters and was portrayed in the 2006 film Glory Road.

“This is a trailblazing team,” Williamson said. “So many stories throughout Black history, the trailblazing, iconic people lose their lives trying to better position people of color. I think about Martin Luther King, Malcolm X. The reason why I love this story is because, yes, the ’63 players went through a whole lot of things, but at the end of the day, they came out on top.

“I just hope that people hear about it, people learn about it, and the ’63 team, they get the recognition they deserve, especially as social icons within the Black community.”

Williamson is doing his part to preserve the team’s legacy. The film will be shown Friday at Loyola’s Gentile Arena, and Williamson will participate in a post-screening discussion. Two days later, on the same court, Williamson, the reigning Missouri Valley Conference Player of the Week and Loyola’s top scorer and rebounder, will lead the Ramblers against Northern Iowa on ESPN2.

“Lucas is one of the guys who’s carrying the torch,” Creadon said. “He is tremendously composed, he’s smart, he’s kind, he’s a great teammate, and he’s going to do great things in his life.

“He is a terrific ambassador for this team, and for this story.”

Adam Rittenberg is a senior writer covering college football for ESPN.com. He joined ESPN in 2008 and has reported extensively on the college football coaching industry. Like every team, he ain't played nobody.

This Story Tagged: Loyola-Chicago Ramblers Lucas Williamson Black History Always
College Basketball

Texas A&M’s Jordan Nixon: ‘It’s OK that my marriage with basketball is on the rocks’

The junior guard has graduated while still starring for the Aggies, despite dealing with all the stresses of life

Jordan Nixon, starting point guard for the Texas A&M women’s basketball team, has played in big games all her life. A McDonald’s All American and five-star recruit out of high school, she led Mary Louis Academy to its first New York State Catholic High School championship in 2017. In last season’s NCAA tournament, she scored 35 points in the Aggies’ memorable 84-82 overtime victory over Iowa State. But that was nothing new, either: She’s hit at least two other buzzer-beaters in her college career. This season, she’s averaging 11.3 points, 4.2 assists and 3.5 rebounds for the Aggies.

Texas A&M guard Jordan Nixon (center) celebrates with teammates after a college basketball game against Iowa State in the second round of the women’s NCAA tournament at the Alamodome in San Antonio on March 24, 2021. Nixon’s basket at the buzzer gave Texas A&M an 84-82 overtime victory.

Eric Gay/AP Photo

My name is Jordan, but most people call me Jordy. My nicknames have nicknames, but just one will do for now. I’m a girl from Harlem, New York City, and a graduate of the Mary Louis Academy — a small, all-girls school in Jamaica, Queens — gearing up for an SEC game [Feb. 13] against the LSU.

Over the last few years, I’ve played alongside national champions and McDonald’s All Americans — I was one myself. I’ve played an integral part in disappointing losses and observed triumphant wins. As an ineligible player and fan, I’ve cheered so hard that my head hurt, and my ears rang. I’ve flown on chartered planes and stepped on foreign soil because of a game that I’ve loved for the last 12 years. I’ve bled and cried for the world to see. Your favorite basketball player gave me a shout-out on Instagram, and America heard my ode to trust and the 12th man with their morning coffee.

One might say that I’ve had the ultimate collegiate experience. But no, I wouldn’t do it all over again.


In June 2018, I set foot in South Bend, Indiana, ready to take on the challenge of higher learning at Notre Dame. Midway through the year, I wasn’t as enthusiastic about what lay ahead. And yet, after a full year of memories I’d like to forget, I was falsely accused of trying to steer a recruit away from the program two days after being back on campus to start my sophomore campaign. That young recruit has since gone on to a different school. I wonder if I’m the reason.

The old me had an opportunity to represent my country as a USA 19 & Under team member before I asked to be dismissed for personal reasons. I didn’t know what a panic attack was until I found myself on the front steps of my apartment on July 5, 2019 — the first day of training camp — struggling to breathe normally. I didn’t know what hyperventilate meant until after interacting with a former Notre Dame coach I associated with my freshman year distress three weeks after we skipped out on saying our goodbyes — yes, very personal mental health reasons.

Notre Dame Fighting Irish guard Jordan Nixon in the second half against the Boston College Eagles at Purcell Pavilion.

Matt Cashore/USA TODAY Sports

I spent my newfound free time mourning my Notre Dame decision, battling a sinus infection and a head injury. Those around me didn’t know I had renounced basketball for what it did and how it felt. I became a shell, or rather — as [Louisville coach] Jeff Walz so gracefully put it — ‘a dud.’ And no one likes a dud.

For the first time in my young adult life, I was forced to be something other than a basketball player. It may have been one of the best things to ever happen to me, in hindsight.

I discovered that I loved to write that fateful summer when my secret journal overflowed. I hadn’t the slightest idea about my love for creating and problem-solving until I wrote a screenplay starring my dream self on the nights when insomnia inspired me to eat a six-pack of mint chocolate chip cookies. Granted, only three people have been privileged to read my makeshift masterpiece — on the nights when insomnia inspired me to eat a six-pack of mint chocolate chip cookies. Until that point, my love for movies had never been enough for me to dream of participating in their production. For every step forward that summer, the darkness shrouding the next year made me want to turn back.

At age 19, on a full scholarship at Texas A&M, one of the best schools in the country, I had enough money in my pocket to DoorDash too much for my own good. I had a clean, ventilated, two-bed, 2.5-bath apartment to call home after classes and time in the Aggies’ multimillion-dollar facilities. But while basking in the bliss of my blessings, on a night in October 2019, I pondered potential newspaper headlines about Jordan Nixon, A&M basketball player, being found unresponsive in her apartment.

Self-harm, however it manifested itself, was a way for me to legitimize my concealed distress.

I intended it to be an outward expression of the casualties of the war going on inside of my head. Admittedly, it was also a desperate countermove for the unrelenting numbness. I survived 100% of my worst days unharmed, and for that, I am proud.

Anxiety-induced depression. That’s what I chose to call it — silently, of course. Low grades, 20 additional pounds, insomnia, panic attacks and tremendously low lows accompanied by numb fingers, frequent bouts of nausea, an inability to focus, difficulty breathing and performing daily tasks. Yet, I didn’t have the right to lay claim to these words and all of their gravity. Or at least that’s what was said, at some points implied, and well understood by me.

Enter Pandemic stage left

Three people dear to me died within three weeks in 2020. Two from COVID-19, and the other from a massive heart attack. More newspaper headlines. More panic. More sleepless nights and repeat days while ‘the city that never sleeps’ – a colloquialism for NYC, the greatest city on earth – took naps. Regular weekly calls with the therapist — free counseling from our school’s sports psychologist was a perk I was reluctant to surrender. No peace.

I danced on the decision to walk away from two years’ worth of forgettable but formative moments as a college athlete at the onset of the pandemic because the experience of being at a Power 5 school was not worth me. The burden had grown too big to bear, or so I thought. For my scholarship, I am forever grateful. But for the nights I didn’t think I’d make it through, I am forever afraid.

I owe my life to a clunky, secondhand full-frame Canon 5D classic camera. Without it, my worst days would have gotten the best of me. I found peace in carrying an old-style camera around the streets of Harlem alongside my mom and dog. At the pandemic’s peak, I brought that camera back to College Station, Texas, and created magic. I built a small brand rooted in repurposing the meaning of a term often used to keep people on the margins and stuck in circumstances beyond their control. ‘A problem’ — or rather, ‘aprblem,’ for the sake of self-promotion — was built for those who, like me, felt broken by their circumstances, unable to move forward, and feeling undeserving. To be ‘aprblem,’ in the way that I mean, is to create your bigger picture with the broken pieces.

Maybe that’s what carried me through the subsequent school year. The tears streaming down my mom’s face when she begged me ‘to get the degree’ may have also played a factor.

It’s been said everything you go through will prepare you for the things you’re asking for. I have to believe that being out for two months before my first season as an eligible Aggie provided me the patience I needed to accept my internal battles and brave them every day throughout the first COVID-19 season. I have to hope that living in hotels — first, after my roommate contracted COVID-19, and again for several months after an unprecedented winter storm displaced us — taught me to adapt. I have to think that cursing my curves taught me how to love myself enough to stop valuing the opinions of others. I also have to believe that what happened in March 2021 in the NCAA women’s basketball tournament was not the peak of my college basketball career and that I am not speeding downhill fast, but actually on the fast track to better.

From the instant ‘celebrity’ I gained from a third game winner on the season, tacked onto a 35-point performance and overtime win, I’ve learned the power of the number of people who hit your follow button; it’s life-changing. And just as quickly as it comes, so too can it leave — overnight sensationalism at its finest.

I spent last spring dodging talks about the impending season, the past one, and ducking folks who know better or think they do. I didn’t accept an invitation to try out for the national team. I chose inexperience and uncertainty over basketballs and storied gyms. And to hell with all of the people who disagreed. I wanted to be booked and busy, and I can still recall the moment because I chose myself for the first time.

I chose myself for a second time when I walked away from all basketball-related activities as a last battle cry in the three-year war in September 2021. Dear September, you were good to me. In the context of who I am, instead of what I do, I returned, taking 19 credits while on academic probation. I chose the familiar uncertainty of a season and my teammates. I decided to return to basketball, and in making that choice, I suffered a panic attack during our game against DePaul; breathing is hard enough playing at their pace. I endured nagging pain in my right knee, initially diagnosed as ‘something that would persist until I stopped playing.’ That turned out to be a partial meniscus tear. I contracted COVID-19 for the second time this year — the first was back in late April — several days before my graduation ceremony. On Dec. 18, 2021, I got the degree in the comfort of my living room — top two in all-time accomplishments, and probably not two. Refer to Drake’s ‘Gyalchester.’

Texas A&M Aggies guard Jordan Nixon against the LSU Tigers at Bon Secours Wellness Arena.

Dawson Powers/USA TODAY Sports

As an early graduate, I decided not to pursue my master’s degree at Texas A&M for no other reason than wanting to get one in journalism, communications is my best bet, but isn’t offered until the fall. Confession: I fell out of love, and into solace while telling stories. I’m hoping that we remain good to one another even as basketball and I try to figure things out. Now I spend my days taking courses on subjects I have little curiosity about, playing basketball, and doing things that continue to save me over and over again i.e writing, socializing, reading, etc.

Don’t look at the screen that way — I am not the first person to fall out of love with the game that has given me so much, nor will I be the last. I’ve played this long for my mom and people who’ve patiently waited and experienced my success with me. I’ve played for the city that urged me to make it out. I’ve played thinking of the people around the country who see a regular Black girl from New York City beating the odds. There’s power in purpose, and all those things combined made mine.

It’s OK that my marriage with basketball is on the rocks and that we’re living out our final days together. We’ve hit the midseason mark, and I haven’t lived up to my expectations, let alone those of my coaches, teammates and loved ones. I am in the process of exhausting the possibilities, attempting to revive what’s left of my playing career, and failing miserably, but remaining hopeful. I’ve continued playing through the season, injured and questioning my love, because I love my teammates and I love being an Aggie. And no matter what happens, I am thankful for this opportunity. As far as this team is concerned, no, we haven’t been the team we thought we’d be, standing at a 3-7 conference record, but we’re figuring it out. One practice, film session and game at a time until we don’t have any more— continuing with today.

I fell out of love and into solace while telling stories. I hope that we remain good to one another even as basketball and I try to figure things out. I’m welcoming change without knowing that those who made this journey possible will do the same, and I am OK with that, too.

I hate roller coasters, and this has been both wild but necessary. Yes, I found myself in four years, but not before losing myself time and time again along the ride.

‘A bird sitting on a tree is never afraid of the branch breaking, because her trust is not on the branch but on its own wings.’ — Unknown

This Story Tagged: College Basketball Texas A&M Jordan Nixon
Commentary

Roger Goodell knows NFL is failing at hiring Black coaches, but what will he do about it?

‘What we have to do … is step back and say, ‘We’re not doing a good enough job here.’ We need to find better solutions and better outcomes.’

INGLEWOOD, Calif. — On the matter of inclusive hiring in the NFL, commissioner Roger Goodell walks the talk within the shop he runs.

The workforce in the league’s New York City headquarters looks like America, and there are Black people under Goodell who have their hands on levers of power. Leading by example, he hires and empowers qualified people from various racial and ethnic backgrounds and encourages them to increase diversity throughout their departments. The makeup of Goodell’s extended staff proves it.

Of the 17 highest-ranking officials in NFL Football Operations, nine are Black. Eight of the nine have vice president-level titles or higher, and the group is led by a Black man: Troy Vincent, executive vice president of football operations.

But outside of 345 Park Ave., the league’s coaching and front-office workforce remains quite white.

That’s why Goodell, in a pre-Super Bowl news conference Wednesday, again had to answer for his billionaire bosses, who have largely ignored qualified Black candidates in filling openings for head coaches during the past five hiring cycles. Former Miami Dolphins head coach Brian Flores, who is Afro Latino, filed a lawsuit last week seeking class-action status, alleging widespread racial discrimination in the NFL’s hiring practices.

And although he didn’t specifically address Flores’ claims (the NFL contends they are without merit) while discussing the state of the game, Goodell again acknowledged the obvious: Professional sports’ most successful and powerful league is failing many of its Black employees, and change is necessary.

“We just have to do a better job. We have to look [at it as] is there another thing that we can do to make sure we’re attracting that best talent here and making our league inclusive?” Goodell said on the campus of SoFi Stadium, where the Cincinnati Bengals and Los Angeles Rams will play Sunday in Super Bowl LVI.

“If I had the answer right now, I would give it to you. What we have to do … is step back and say, ‘We’re not doing a good enough job here.’ We need to find better solutions and better outcomes.”

Goodell fielded a volley of questions from reporters about the potential short- and long-term damage on the league’s reputation stemming from Flores’ lawsuit, the league’s seemingly conflicting stance on Flores’ allegations, and what the NFL must do to address its abysmal record of promoting Black coaches and Black officials in football and business operations to top positions.

Goodell continued along the path he began to lay Saturday, when he sent a memo to all 32 clubs saying that the league understands the concerns expressed by Flores and others. The league will initiate a comprehensive review of its entire approach to diversity, equity and inclusion.

“What we’re going to do is step back and look at everything we’re doing today,” Goodell said. “Reevaluate that, everything from looking at the Rooney Rule and seeing what changes should be made to that if any, or should it be removed, as some people have suggested. … All of those things are part of that.”

As he has done in news conferences before other Super Bowls, Goodell expressed concern that in the overwhelmingly Black league — in 2020, players who are Black or African American accounted for 57.5% of players on NFL rosters, and the number has been as high as 69.7% — many Black NFL employees continue to be frustrated about their lack of advancement from the front office to the field, and rightfully so.

The NFL should be embarrassed. The recent numbers need no explaining.


Pittsburgh Steelers head coach Mike Tomlin stood alone as the NFL’s only Black head coach until Sunday, when the Dolphins hired former San Francisco 49ers offensive coordinator Mike McDaniel, who is multiracial, to replace Flores. On Monday, the Houston Texans promoted Lovie Smith, who is Black and served as the team’s associate head coach and defensive coordinator this past season, to replace David Culley, who was fired after only one season.

The league has never had more than eight Black head coaches in any season.

On Jan. 10, the Dolphins fired Flores after he became the team’s first head coach to have consecutive winning seasons since 2002 and 2003. Ron Rivera of the Washington Commanders and Robert Saleh of the New York Jets are the league’s other minority head coaches.

White coaches were chosen for the first six of nine openings for head coaches that will be filled this cycle (only the Minnesota Vikings are yet to officially pick a new on-field leader). The news of the McDaniel and Smith moves occurred after Flores’ lawsuit was filed, and the league announced plans to review its approach to inclusive hiring.

“Let’s take Coach Flores’ litigation and put that to the side. That will go through the legal process,” Goodell said. “What’s really more important is to talk about what Coach Flores was talking about and other coaches have talked about with respect to what really is happening in the hiring process. What’s good, what’s bad, what’s not leading up to the results we expect to have. …

“We’ve made a tremendous amount of progress in a lot of areas, but not at the head coach [level]. That is something that we really have focused on to try to get the kind of results that we would expect. And we fell short of that by a long shot for us.”

Over the previous four cycles, there have been 27 openings. During that span, three Black men became head coaches.

In less than 24 hours at the outset of Super Bowl week, two were tabbed to lead teams. Just like that.

“I don’t think you take anything off the table until you have people look at that, help us independently say is there something flawed with our process,” Goodell said. “And if there is, what can we do to resolve that and fix that.

“If I knew something was flawed with our process in any area, we would be addressing it.”


NFL commissioner Roger Goodell addresses the media on Feb. 9 at the NFL Network’s Champions Field at the NFL Media Building on the SoFi Stadium campus in Inglewood, California.

Rob Carr/Getty Images

Masterfully, Goodell steered clear of being pinned down on how the NFL could quickly announce that Flores’ lawsuit is without merit and announce just four days later it’s time to commission a comprehensive — and long overdue — evaluation of the league’s approach to improving representation in its workforce.

“The initial reaction was regarding the legal claims themselves, and not really what we would say the experiences of what Coach Flores was going through,” Goodell said when asked about the NFL’s initial statement on Flores’ lawsuit. “That’s what I’m more interested in. I put the legal claims and the legal process to the side, and that will be handled by lawyers. To me, it’s sort of more important to listen to Coach, [and] understand what he and other coaches are going through.”

To put it kindly, the NFL appears to have conflicting positions on the Flores matter.

It’s important to note, however, that the league can argue that the specific complaints alleged in Flores’ lawsuit are without merit while expressing concern about his overall critique of the league’s hiring when it comes to race. No matter how illogical it may appear to some, the league can maintain both positions.

Although Goodell and other league officials acknowledge there’s plenty of heavy lifting to do in hiring on the coaching front, they point to gains made in the front office as an encouraging development.

During this cycle, the Chicago Bears hired Ryan Poles, formerly executive director of player personnel for the Kansas City Chiefs, as their new general manager. The Vikings hired Kwesi Adofo-Mensah, formerly vice president of football operations for the Cleveland Browns, as their new general manager.

Three Black general managers were hired during the previous cycle: Terry Fontenot of the Atlanta Falcons, Brad Holmes of the Detroit Lions and Martin Mayhew of the Commanders. The league now has seven Black general managers. The NFL has never had more than seven.

Baltimore Ravens team president Sashi Brown became the second Black team president in NFL history last week. Brown, who formerly served as chief planning and operations officer for the NBA’s Washington Wizards and had a stint as the Browns’ general manager, joins the Commanders’ Jason Wright, who became the first Black man in NFL history to ascend to the position in August 2020.

That’s all noteworthy. The problem is, there’s still too much going wrong overall for league officials to take a victory lap regarding a component or two of hiring. That’s just not how this works.

“There is no finish line for diversity and inclusion,” Goodell said. “That’s something that constantly we have to keep at the forefront of everything we do. It makes us better. It makes us bring the best talent into the league.”

Proponents of inclusive hiring who have sat across the negotiating table from Goodell insist he’s an ally in the struggle. And on this, Goodell has proven his bona fides.

But Goodell clearly isn’t on the same page with the people to whom he reports, and Flores’ lawsuit again put him on the spot because of them.

Jason Reid is the senior NFL writer at The Undefeated. He enjoys watching sports, especially any games involving his son and daughter.

This Story Tagged: Commentary NFL Super Bowl Roger Goodell Black Coaches Brian Flores