I Listen to Big Perk
Each year, before the start of the WNBA season and at the conclusion of the NBA season, I get hyped about watching two events, the draft for each league. I’m always inspired by and elated to see the annual showcase of young aspirants, often still in their teen years, embark on the fulfillment of a personal dream, as well as one shared by their families — — to play professional basketball. Regardless of knowing where they are likely to go in the draft, the smiles, hugs and tears are real and compelling. Through an unshakeable and unbendable belief in themselves, they will their minds and bodies through the rigors of thousands of hours of practice, drills, conditioning, games and recovery from sprains, strains, tears, ruptures and breaks to hear their names called by a commissioner, telling them that they made it.
With the NBA Draft approaching, I found myself in a surprising state of indifference about the upcoming selection process. I wondered if it was due to the saturation of news coverage of the unprecedented indictment of a former president. No. I thought perhaps it’s because the destination of the once in a millennium, multi-talented, alien (as dubbed by LeBron James) Victor Wembanyama is already known. No. I even considered that it might be due to my preoccupation with travel plans for the upcoming months. Again, no.
My process of elimination led me to one conclusion, one great distraction that has been diverting my enthusiasm and anticipation of the pending draft. Well, actually two distractions: Ja Morant and Zion Williamson. The glaring spotlight on these two NBA talents, who know what it feels like to hear their names called, to walk by the parade of cameras trained on them and to shake the hand of Adam Silver welcoming them to the league is dominating the news cycle prior to the draft.
Not too long ago, both were meteors shooting across the sky of the NBA, with the telescopes of every team president, general manager and scout, every sports analyst, commentator and fan trained on their every movement. Now, the microscope of skepticism is zoomed in on discovering, detailing and determining their dramatic falls from the stratospheric heights of their potential, prominence and prestige. I draw upon a quote from the movie A Bronx Tale, when considering their fates: “The saddest thing in life is wasted talent.” I’m pulling for Morant and Williamson to make it through their hardships, not waste their talent and maximize their dreams. It would be an incredibly sad outcome, if they don’t.
But this is just one side of the coin I’ve been flipping about my fatigued interest. For years, I have been proposing a postulate, for individuals in the league to consider with more constructive regard. It’s something that has been forefront in my mind, heading into the draft. And while recently watching ESPN’s First Take, PTI and NBA Today shows, Kendrick “Big Perk” Perkins repeatedly stated it, explicitly: There’s something different about the international players. Perkins contends that whatever that difference is, it has acculturated transcontinental players in a way that they are rarely the targets of punishment for conduct detrimental to the league, or the headlining focus of tabloids for unseemly, reckless and dangerous escapades, or for being unrepentant, self-absorbed, disruptive saboteurs on their teams.
As a first-generation American daughter of Argentine descent, I have come to regard that difference as “the immigrant experience”. I identify it in the lineage of international players in the WNBA, from founding players like Carla Boyd, Sandy Brondello, Ticha Penicherio and Elena Baranova to today’s players like Jonquel Jones, Ezi Magbegor, Kia Nurse and Marine Johannes. I can point it out in NBA players like the late Drazen Petrovic, Arvydas Sabonis, Hakeem Olajuwon, Dikembe Mutombo and Dirk Nowitzki to current players like Nikola Jokic, Giannis Antetokounmpo, Al Horford, Steven Adams and Luka Doncic. What is “it”, this immigrant factor that Big Perk suggests is a difference that gives foreign athletes a conduct edge?
The closest I’ve found to describe “it” is akin to what many NBA veteran players refer to as “old-school”. Don’t be fooled by the accessibility of the word. It is a powerful professional tool that combines a perceptive, social emotional intelligence with a relentless, personal industry. The combination is rare, and those players who have it are often viewed as work-ethic role models, those consummate glue guys whose “we always” attitude protects teams from the “me only” contagion that infects and kills the morale of many locker rooms.
This combination of attributes can be intrinsic to any individual, but when it is instilled by family principles and reinforced by cultural expectation, it becomes a conduct guide that directs people towards a desired destiny instead of a disastrous destruction.
The instruction and application of these attributes is a hallmark endeavor of the Giants of Africa program, founded and run by Masai Ujiri, President of the Toronto Raptors. He deeply imbeds these traits as cultural tenets for the uplift of societies and nations. It is that cultural reinforcement that underscores the immigrant experience. But when living in a society fractured by divisions, that glorifies self-obsession via social media and that champions anti-social behavior as being enviable, these attributes become casualties in the development of our youth.
What if GMs and Head Coaches could implement and bolster the instruction of these traits in the culture of their organizations? What must they consider for these qualities to be inspired and incentivized, to promote what harnesses talent rather than squanders it? Here are three suggestions:
1. Begin by fully valuing the humanity of the athlete and not just the performance. As people, we will not invest in anyone we see no value in. Again, this is the basis of Ujiri’s perspective for his Giants of Africa program. Only when we view the “human” and not the “piece”, a term often used to describe players, will we fully consider the complete, comprehensive development of the individual rather than the incomplete, piecemeal development of the athlete. Mentors (not psychologists), in addition to veteran players, could become the key for creating this.
2. Basketball is a team sport — — together everyone achieves more. Many efforts go towards a victory but only a few are selectively chosen for accolades, scoring being the most celebrated. If all efforts, particularly the “hustle efforts”, those that exemplify personal industry as a contribution to the whole, were celebrated, touted and rewarded as much as points, rebounds and assist, more players would feel equally valued by their teams. There is a direct correlation evidenced in any organization, between the value people feel and the value they add.
3. Analytics can’t measure the integrity of character, or the conviction of the heart or the selflessness of the soul. These are what must be assessed to foster the maturation, initiative, esprit de corps and self-preservation of the individual, in this case, the player, more specifically, Ja Morant and Zion Williamson. If more teams had a greater focus for analyzing how these factors are present or lacking in everyone from the president of the franchise to the equipment manager, the social emotional intelligence and personal industry attributes that ensure them would become mainstays in their organizations.
I rely on advice from an old-school master, Michael Tyler, who in addition to being a New York Times Bestselling author is also my cultural attaché and sports savant. We have had several discussions about the overlap between the immigrant experience and old-school methodology. He has often said that more needs to be done to prescribe “old-school rules to new-school fools”. Listening to Big Perk, I’m willing to parlay a bet that he would agree.
