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      Jane Campion and the Perils of the Backhanded Compliment

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      Jane Campion’s comment about Venus and Serena Williams reminded our critic of his own night of ‘botched fanciness’ and racial slights.Something about the way the director Jane Campion went overboard on Sunday to identify with, then insult, Venus and Serena Williams at an awards show brought to mind a night of botched fanciness that happened to me. A couple Fridays ago, I went to see some art: a Faith Ringgold retrospective at the New Museum in the afternoon, with friends; Norm Lewis singing at Carnegie Hall in the evening. (That was a solo trip.) For both, I wore a suit.The Ringgold show requires three floors and includes her 1967 masterpiece “American People Series #20: Die,” a blunt, bloody racial-rampage frieze that would be pure physical comedy about the era’s racial cataclysms were it not for the helpless terror in the faces she’s painted (Black men, women and children; white men, women and children). The scale of the canvas helps. It’s huge. Ringgold has always painted Black women in a range of moods, feelings, conditions, beauty. She gives them faces that feature both personal serenity and indicting alarm.I planted myself in a tight corridor that featured three works at the alarm end of things — the “Slave Rape” trio, from 1972. Each is a warm, sizable canvas of a woman nude and agape, framed by patchwork quilting, a signature of Ringgold. I was taking my time with one called “Slave Rape #2: Run You Might Get Away” — the woman is mid-flight, loosely shrouded by leaves, a big gold ring in each ear — when two strangers (women, white) parked themselves between me and the piece and continued a conversation I had heard them having in an adjacent gallery. They noticed neither me nor the depicted distress nor my engagement with it. I waited more than a minute before waving my hand, a gesture that seemed to irritate them.“Is something wrong?,” one stranger asked.“You’re in my way,” I told her.“Please accept our deepest apologies,” said her friend. If a middle ground exists between sincerity and sarcasm, these two had just planted a flag. But they did move, though not immediately, lest I relish some kind of relocation victory, and kept their talk of real estate and art ownership within earshot.The Faith Ringgold painting “American People Series #20: Die,” from 1967, in an  exhibition at the New Museum.Faith Ringgold/ARS, NY; Simbarashe Cha for The New York TimesAfter a drink with my friends I left for Carnegie Hall. A cab made sense. One pulled up, and the driver (male, brown) took a look at me, then noticed a white woman hailing a taxi up ahead and drifted her way, instead. When I jogged over to ask him what just happened — Is something wrong? — I was given no acknowledgment in the way only a guilty cabby can achieve. I chased the car half a block to photograph a plate number that you’d have to be Weegee to get just right. I’m not Weegee.I’d never been to Carnegie Hall. And I liked the idea that Norm Lewis was going to break me in. He played Olivia Pope’s senator ex on “Scandal” and one of the vets in Spike Lee’s “Da 5 Bloods.” He’s got a luscious, flexible baritone that I’d only ever encountered in recorded concerts on PBS. That night, backed by the New York Pops, he gave Stephen Sondheim, Andrew Lloyd Webber and Marvin Gaye the polished jewel treatment and pumped “Ya Got Trouble” with enough breathless gusto to make you wonder, with all due respect to Hugh Jackman, why the current “Music Man” revival isn’t starring him.As a solo performer, this was Lewis’s first show at Carnegie Hall, too. And people were anxious to see him and their beloved Pops. In a queue in the lobby before the show, one such person (woman, white) was making a point to push past me when I turned to ask if she was all right.“We’re going to will-call,” she said of herself and the gentleman she was with.“Ma’am, I think we all are,” I said.“We’re members. Are you?” she asked.I lied, hoping a yes would stanch her aggression.“Of the Pops?”She had me.“I like Norm Lewis,” I told her.“We love the Pops.”Venus Williams, left, and Serena Williams at the Critics Choice Awards; “King Richard,” a movie about their family, earned a best actor award for Will Smith.Frazer Harrison/Getty ImagesI was thinking about my night out a week later when one of the world’s great filmmakers saluted two of the world’s greatest athletes in an acceptance speech at the Critics Choice Awards. Jane Campion had been given the directing prize for a sneaky-deep ranch drama called “The Power of the Dog.” From the stage, Campion (woman, white) saluted Venus and Serena Williams and announced that she had taken up tennis but her body had told her to stop. In her nervous excitement, Campion was charming. She then took curious note of her plight as a woman in the film industry by informing the Williamses that they’ve got nothing on her. “You are such marvels,” she said, through a grin. “However, you do not play against the guys like I have to.”The Williams sisters were in the room that evening because a smart, tangy movie about their family, “King Richard,” was in the nominations mix, alongside Campion’s. “King Richard” is not about the time in 2001 when a California crowd booed and slurred Venus and Serena and their father, Richard, at a top tennis tournament. It’s not about the many mischaracterizations of their bodies, skills and intent in the press and by their peers. It’s not about the insidiously everlasting confusion of one sister for the other, the sort of thing that, just a few weeks ago, took place on a page of this newspaper. It’s not even about their fight, Venus’s particularly, to get women’s prize money even with men’s “King Richard” is about how the sisters’ parents molded and loved and coached them into the sort of people who can handle sharp backhands and backhanded compliments with the same power and poise.Even though Campion’s errant backhand had flown wide, the room lurched into cheers. Some of the applause came from Serena Williams, who has watched many a shot sail long. I had to desist further thought about the meaning of Campion’s aside. It was too confused. Was this a wish for the establishment of gendered guardrails for directors at award shows or the elimination of such distinctions in sports? Are there no men to be contended with in tennis? The line separating argument from accusation and accusation from self-aggrandizement was murky. I thought instead about the costs of the murk.Sunday afternoon, the Williamses got dressed up to celebrate some art. And somebody stood before them and challenged the validity of their membership, here in Campion’s restricted vision of sisterhood. The next day, Campion gushed an apology. These slips and slights and presumptions have a way of lingering, though. Their underlying truth renders them contrition-proof. I had every intention of keeping my date with Faith and Norm to myself. These incidents aren’t rare in fancyland, and therefore don’t warrant a constant spotlight because standing in its glare is exhausting. But Venus. Her face does something as Campion speaks. A knowing cringe. She and her family came out to soak up more of the praise being lavished on art about their life. They were invitees turned, suddenly, into interlopers, presenting one minute, plunged through a trap door the next. Faith Ringgold would recognize the discomfort. She painted it over and over. Run you might get away. But you probably won’t. More

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      Overlooked No More: Ora Washington, Star of Tennis and Basketball

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      She was dominant in both sports over two decades and was in all likelihood the first Black star in women’s sports in the United States.This article is part of Overlooked, a series of obituaries about remarkable people whose deaths, beginning in 1851, went unreported in The Times.Ora Washington, a dominant two-sport champion over two decades, was so good at basketball and tennis that she was hailed in the Black press as “Queen Ora” and the “Queen of Two Courts” — and for good reason.In the 1920s through the 1940s, long before female athletes like Serena Williams, Simone Biles and Naomi Osaka became immensely influential sports figures, Washington was in all likelihood the first Black star in women’s sports the United States had ever seen.In one basketball game, she sank an improbable basket from beyond midcourt. In another, she scored 38 points when entire women’s teams normally didn’t score that many in a single outing. Washington “can do everything required of a basketball player,” the sports columnist Randy Dixon wrote in 1939 in the Black weekly newspaper The Pittsburgh Courier. “She passes and shoots with either hand. She is a ball hawk. She has stamina and speed that make many male players blush with envy.”Washington, the team’s center and captain, did it all without even warming up before competitions, coolly saying that she preferred to warm up as she went along. Her remarkable basketball skills were “flashy and aggressive,” as The Courier said in 1931, and brought spectators rushing to see her decades before the women’s game became popular in mainstream society.On the tennis court, Washington was perhaps even more spectacular. Beginning in 1929, she won seven straight national singles championships — and eight in all — as part of the American Tennis Association, a league that welcomed all comers at a time when the world’s top league, the United States Lawn Tennis Association, allowed only white players to compete. Washington also won 12 consecutive A.T.A. doubles titles from 1925 to 1936, including nine with her partner Lulu Ballard, and three mixed doubles titles.With a searing serve and an unconventional way of holding the racket halfway up its neck, Washington won her matches “with ridiculous ease” and “walloped opponents into the also-ran columns” with her “flying feet, keen sight, hairline timing and booming shots,” The New York Age, another Black newspaper, wrote in 1939. The Age likened Washington, who was square-jawed, muscular and about 5-foot-7, to the boxing champion Joe Louis because both won with “deadening monotony.”“If you’re looking at Black women’s sports in the pre-integration era, she was the star,” Pamela Grundy, a historian and a pre-eminent source of Washington’s life and career, said in an interview.“She did things her own way,” Grundy added. “I think that made a lot of people nervous.”Washington once made news when she boldly wore pants, not a skirt, on the tennis court. She rarely wore makeup, and she never married; her closest relationships were with other women, said Grundy, who has interviewed several of Washington’s relatives.After matches, Washington wouldn’t hobnob at social events that often surrounded big tennis matches. Instead, she quietly went home or back to her job as a housekeeper for wealthy white families, work she continued throughout her sports career, Grundy said.“Ora wasn’t girly girly,” she added. “And she didn’t pretend to be girly.”Washington was known for her physical, intimidating style of play, which opponents didn’t soon forget.“Competitors — 60 years after the fact — had quite vivid memories of her skills and style,” said the sports historian Rita Liberti, who has interviewed several of Washington’s opponents. Ruth Glover Mullen, who played against Washington in the 1930s, told Liberti that facing Washington “was just like playing a Magic Johnson or Michael Jordan.”Washington, right, in 1939 after winning the Pennsylvania Open. With her was the runner-up, Dorothy Morgan, whom Washington beat, 6-2, 6-1.John W. Mosley/Temple University Libraries, Charles L. Blockson Afro-American CollectionYears went by without Washington losing a single match. But white Americans did not notice because Washington had been relegated to a segregated corner of the sports world. And that was their loss, the tennis champion Arthur Ashe asserted decades later, “because Washington may have been the best female athlete ever,” he wrote in The New York Times in 1988.Some said her dominance had made tennis boring.“It does not pay to be national champion too long,” Washington told The Baltimore Afro-American in 1939. “It’s the struggle to be one that counts. Once arrived, everybody wants to take it away from you and you are the object of many criticisms.”She retired from her singles career in 1938 but came out of retirement briefly in 1939 to play Flora Lomax, the reigning A.T.A. national champion, whom the Black press had referred to as the sport’s glamour girl. There had been speculation that Washington had retired to avoid playing Lomax, prompting Washington to tell The Afro-American that she “just had to” prove somebody wrong after “they said Ora was not so good anymore.”Washington proceeded to beat Lomax with relative ease.Washington won her last A.T.A. mixed doubles title in 1947, when she was in her 40s. She and her partner, George Stewart, beat R. Walter Johnson and Althea Gibson, the Black athlete who was on the cusp of greatness.Washington then retired for good, just as the sport was beginning to be integrated. Had she stayed, “Ora would have beaten Althea,” Johnson was quoted as saying in Florida Today in 1969, and had she been a little younger, she could have become an international star.It was Gibson who became the first Black player to win a major tournament, the 1956 French Open singles; she went on to win five Grand Slam singles titles in all.Dixon, the columnist at The Pittsburgh Courier, said in 1939 that Washington might have become better known had she not shied away from the limelight. She had, he wrote, “committed the unpardonable sin of being a plain person with no flair whatever for what folks love to call society.”Ora Belle Washington is believed to have been born in the late 1890s in Caroline County, Va. (The state didn’t keep birth records at the time.) She was the fifth of nine children of James and Laura (Young) Washington, who owned a farm in the small town of File, about midway between Richmond and Washington.As a teenager, Ora left the increasingly violent segregated South for Philadelphia, where she picked up tennis at the Y.W.C.A. in the Germantown section of the city. She was a natural.At an A.T.A. regional tournament in 1925, just a few years after she had started playing tennis, Washington signaled that she had arrived when she upset Isadore Channels, the league’s reigning national champion. She also started her doubles winning streak with Ballard that year.After moving to Chicago, where she worked as a hotel maid, Washington won her first national singles title in 1929, and for seven straight years there was no stopping her. “Her superiority is so evident,” the Black paper The Chicago Defender wrote in 1931, “that her competitors are frequently beaten before the first ball crosses the net.”But with no avenue available to gauge her talents against white players, she turned to basketball. The timing was perfect; the sport was on the rise in the Black community, which embraced women ballplayers as celebrities.In 1930, Washington joined the Germantown Hornets, which played out of her local Y.W.C.A., and they lost only one game on the way to a Black women’s national championship.She later played for the Philadelphia Tribune Girls, a semiprofessional squad sponsored by a local Black newspaper, and the team became an all-star outfit that traveled throughout the South and Midwest for sold-out games. The team drew more than 1,000 fans when it played Bennett College, an all-Black women’s college in North Carolina, according to The Greensboro Daily News in 1934.The Newsgirls, as the Tribune Girls were also known, won 11 straight Colored Women’s Basketball world championship titles, in part because no opposing player could handle Washington and no coach could devise a defense to contain her.Even the mainstream press called Washington an “outstanding star” or the “famous colored girl athlete.” She remained with the team until 1943, when it disbanded.Washington then slipped nearly completely off the national stage. When she was inducted into the Black Athletes Hall of Fame in 1976, the organizers were surprised that she did not show up for the ceremony.They were even more surprised to learn that she had died five years earlier, on May 29, 1971, in Philadelphia, according to her death certificate. Grundy learned from an interview with Washington’s nephew Bernard Childs that Washington had been ill for some time.Washington was inducted into the Basketball Hall of Fame, in Springfield, Mass., in 2018, partly through the efforts of Claude Johnson, the executive director of the Black Fives Foundation, a nonprofit group that promotes awareness of African Americans who played basketball before the N.B.A. was integrated.“When Ora Washington played, there had never before been greatness at that level,” Johnson said in an interview. “We should honor that.” More

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      Sam Jones, Sharpshooting Celtics Star of the 1960s, Dies at 88

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      A member of the Basketball Hall of Fame, he was named one of the 50 greatest players in N.B.A. history and played on 10 N.B.A. championship teams.Sam Jones, the Boston Celtics’ sharpshooting Hall of Fame guard who played on 10 N.B.A. championship teams, a milestone exceeded only by his teammate Bill Russell, died on Thursday in Florida. He was 88. His death was announced by a Celtics spokesman, who did not specify a cause but said that Jones had been in failing health. He also did not say where in Florida he died, but Jones had been living in the Orlando area.When Jones was selected by the Celtics out of the historically Black North Carolina College at Durham (now North Carolina Central University) in the first round of the 1957 draft — he was the eighth player chosen overall — he was more astonished and apprehensive than thrilled. Since players at Black colleges had gained little national notice at the time, he viewed himself as a potential pioneer, though he questioned his chances of making a Celtics lineup brimming with stars.“I had a lot of pressure put on me,” Jones told The Boston Globe in 2009. “We didn’t have scouts coming in to see what the Black colleges were doing. If I make good, they’re going to start looking into the Black colleges.”Despite his doubts, Jones quickly impressed Coach Red Auerbach. He went on to team with K.C. Jones (no relation), a tenacious defender, in a backcourt pairing that eventually replaced that of Bob Cousy and Bill Sharman, two of the N.B.A.’s greatest players of the 1950s. The Joneses became part of a record-setting run alongside Russell, who transformed the center position with his rebounding and defense, the forwards Tom Heinsohn, John Havlicek and Satch Sanders, and Cousy and Sharman in their final seasons.Jones went to the basket against the Philadelphia Warriors in a 1965 game as the Warriors’ Wilt Chamberlain (No. 13) looked on. Jones, who was 6-foot-4, relished getting the best of Chamberlain, who was 7-foot-1.Dick Raphael/NBAE/Getty ImagesSam Jones played on Celtics teams that won eight consecutive N.B.A. championships (1959 to 1966) and another two in 1968 and 1969. A five-time All-Star, he was called Mr. Clutch for the many baskets he scored in the final seconds of playoff games. His total of 10 championship rings has been exceeded only by Russell’s 11.Jones was elected to the Basketball Hall of Fame in Springfield, Mass., in 1984 and was named one of the 50 greatest players in N.B.A. history when the league celebrated its 50th anniversary in 1996. He once held the Celtics’ single-game scoring record, with 51 points against the Detroit Pistons in October 1965. When he retired after 12 seasons, he was the team’s career scoring leader, with 15,411 points. Larry Bird and Jayson Tatum are the current single-game record-holders, with 60 points, and Havlicek holds the career scoring record, with 26,395.Jones was renowned for using the backboard when most players were shooting directly at the hoop.“Sam showed them how to use the bank shot,” Auerbach once told United Press International. “He made it popular, and he made it an art.”Jones had supreme confidence in that shot. As he put it, “I felt it was like making a layup.”Samuel Jones was born on June 24, 1933, in Wilmington, N.C. At North Carolina College, playing for the Hall of Fame coach John B. McLendon in a Division II program, he was a fine shooter, scoring a total of 1,170 points, and an outstanding rebounder.Auerbach had never seen Jones play in college. But he drafted him when Bones McKinney, a North Carolinian and one of Auerbach’s former players, raved about him. Jones had planned to become a teacher but tried his luck at the Celtics’ training camp.He was a reserve for several seasons before taking over for Sharman. Though he was 6-foot-4, tall for a guard at the time, he was quicker than many smaller guards.When he saw Russell about to snare an offensive rebound, Jones would move away from the man defending him, who was watching the ball, and get ready to snare a pass from Russell and convert it into a bank shot. As he told NBA.com, “You only need a second to get a shot off.”Jones retired from the Celtics in 1969 and was later head coach at Federal City College in Washington (now the University of the District of Columbia) and at North Carolina Central. He was an assistant coach for the N.B.A.’s New Orleans Jazz.Jones in 2009 at the Sports Museum in Boston, where he received a lifetime achievement award. After retiring from the Celtics, he coached college ball. Steven Senne/AP Jones and his wife, Gladys Chavis Jones, who died in 2018, had five children. Information on survivors was not immediately available.Jones averaged 17.7 points a game in the regular season for the Celtics, but he was particularly dangerous in the playoffs. He hit a jump shot over the Philadelphia Warriors’ Wilt Chamberlain in the final seconds of Game 7 in the 1962 Eastern Division playoff final, giving Boston a 109-107 victory. He had five of the Celtics’ 10 overtime points against the Los Angeles Lakers in Game 7 of the league finals, helping to propel Boston to a fourth consecutive championship.Jones relished getting the best of the 7-foot-1 Chamberlain.“I never challenged him by trying to drive right on him — he’d just block your shot,” he told Terry Pluto for the N.B.A. oral history “Tall Tales” (1992). “I’d stop in front of him and shoot over him. Then I talked to him. I talked to everybody on the court, but it was a lot of fun to say things to Wilt because he’d react to them.”In a fight-filled fourth quarter of Game 5 in that Celtics-Warriors series, Jones collided with Chamberlain, who outweighed him by nearly 50 pounds, and they exchanged unpleasantries. When Chamberlain grabbed at Jones’s wrist — perhaps in a peace gesture — Jones ran off the court.“He saw Wilt still coming after him, so Sam picked up one of the photographers’ chairs and held it out at Wilt as if Sam were a lion tamer,” the referee Norm Drucker recalled to Mr. Pluto.“He was about ready to go up into the stands — he didn’t want to fight,” said Chamberlain, the strongest man in pro basketball. “So I said, ‘Ah, forget it.’” More

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      McCollum on Simmons Trade Rumors, Vaccines and Blazers Firing

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      Portland guard CJ McCollum is facing challenges both personal and professional in his first year as president of the players’ union. “It’s the life I chose,” he said.Portland Trail Blazers guard CJ McCollum has been interested in the business machinations of the N.B.A. since early in his career. He was a team representative and vice president in the players’ union, the National Basketball Players Association, before he was elected to succeed Chris Paul as its president this year.The job pays nothing. It adds phone calls and video conferences to his already busy schedule with his day job. His wife is due to deliver their first child any day now. He has a fledgling wine business.Why would McCollum want to take this on?“I’m ready for the next step, the next evolution of myself,” he said in a recent phone interview. “And that’s being more mature, having more responsibility, but also figuring out ways to help more people. Figuring out ways to provide leadership, counsel, guidance.”Since he started, more challenges have faced him and the Trail Blazers. McCollum, who is in his ninth season playing in Portland, has been the subject of trade rumors. As the team struggled on the court in recent weeks, its then president and general manager, Neil Olshey, was fired for improper workplace conduct. And McCollum is now sidelined as he recovers from a partially collapsed lung.On top of that, the union is navigating the coronavirus pandemic, with McCollum — who has said he doesn’t allow unvaccinated people into his home — and the league encouraging vaccines. The players do not have a vaccine mandate, but McCollum said, “We were at 98, we might even be around 99 percent vaccinated right now, which is a big deal.”He’s sought advice from Paul, other veteran players and lawyers and executives who work for the union. He’s learning to advocate for players while building relationships with teams and the league office. The next collective bargaining agreement will be negotiated during his term, and he’d like to help players with financial literacy.He recently spoke with The New York Times about being the players’ union president during a pandemic, how he handles trade rumors and his relationship with Olshey.This interview has been condensed and edited for clarity.Have you had to explain to others why the extra coronavirus testing is a good thing? [The league and union agreed to require additional testing, even for vaccinated players, after Thanksgiving, which has coincided with an uptick in positive tests.]I think when we explain to people the importance of knowing — there’s a lot of things that go under the radar in terms of being positive, but being asymptomatic. So I think testing around the holidays when people are flying or traveling, families are coming in from out of town, you’re gathering, you’re more exposed. It just makes sense and the only bad thing that can come from it is finding out that you are positive. But the good news is you’re finding out early and you can save and not expose some of your friends and family.As training camps opened, there was a lot of attention on the small number of unvaccinated players. Did that annoy you?Yeah, it did. I feel like we were targeted. Obviously, people look up to us. We play a sport for a living. It’s entertainment. People looked at us as the bar. In reality, we are kind of the bar: We got 98 percent of our league volunteered to be vaccinated, whereas the public was 55 percent or 60 percent at that point. No one was talking about corporate America going through the same problem, no one was talking about how there were health care workers going through the same issues. It was us in the spotlight, and I thought it was unfair because we were doing such a great job of educating our players.There was a lot of conversation about vaccine hesitancy in the Black community as being a problem for the N.B.A. How did you view that?There was hesitancy, but I think there’s hesitancy from everyone. We wanted to know more, we wanted more data. Understanding historically Blacks and African Americans have been taken advantage of, especially in similar circumstances and situations. Historically, we’ve been used almost as guinea pigs at times for experimental medicine. There was caution, there was pause, but for good reason.I think as we’ve continued to educate ourselves and ask the right questions from experts, we’ve learned that there was a shift.As union president, you have to think about the welfare of other players, but some of their situations impact you too. I’m thinking about Ben Simmons, who hasn’t played this year and how your name gets mentioned in trade rumors with him. How do you process your dual role in that?The Coronavirus Pandemic: Key Things to KnowCard 1 of 5The Omicron variant. More

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      in Golf

      Lee Elder Paved the Way for Tiger Woods's Masters Dominance

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      Lee Elder forced golf forward by winning his way into the Masters tournament in 1975, the first Black player to do so, laying a path for Tiger Woods and others.How do we measure athletic greatness? By the number of big wins and unforgettable championships?Or by something less obvious but perhaps more profound: an athlete’s resolve to go against the grain and upend the status quo in both sport and society, even at the risk of personal harm?If the latter measure is as true a test as any, we must make room in the pantheon of the all-time greats for Lee Elder. An indefatigable African American golfer, he died on Sunday at age 87, nearly a half-century after he stood against the stultifying stain of racism and became the first Black golfer to play at the Masters, paving the way for no less than Tiger Woods.“He was the first,” said Woods, not long after he stunned the sports world by winning the Masters in 1997, at age 21. “He was the one I looked up to. Because of what he did, I was able to play here, which was my dream.”What a journey, what a life. The hard, tumultuous arc of sports in the back half of the 20th century — indeed the arc of American history during that time — can be traced through Elder.He was a Black man born in the Jim Crow South who taught himself to play golf on segregated courses and polished his trade on the barnstorming golf tour akin to baseball’s Negro leagues.He dreamed of making it to the biggest stage, but professional golf took its own sweet time while sports such as baseball, basketball and football slowly integrated. The Professional Golfers Association kept its Caucasian-only clause until 1961.Elder never wavered. He broke through on the PGA Tour in 1968, as a 34-year-old. In those days, with the battle for civil rights well underway, the Masters began receiving pressure to add at least one Black player to its field. In 1973, a group of 18 congressional representatives even petitioned the tournament for just that. Elder was among the top 40 money earners on tour and had played in multiple U.S. Opens and P.G.A. Championships — so why not Augusta National?But after choosing not to invite outstanding Black golfers such as Charlie Sifford during the 1960s, the tournament settled on a stringent requirement for its participants: victory at a PGA Tour event.Elder earned that at the 1974 Monsanto Open — the same Florida event where, six years earlier, he had been forced to change clothes in a parking lot because Black people were not allowed to use the country club locker room.Elder possessed an understated but firm resolve. He wasn’t quick to raise a fuss about racism, but he wasn’t afraid to speak up about it, either. “The Masters has never wanted a Black player, and they kept changing the rules to make it harder for Blacks,” he said, adding: “I got them off the hook by winning.”Elder served as a ceremonial starter for the Masters in 2021. He was cheered by Gary Player, in black, and Jack Nicklaus, right.Doug Mills/The New York TimesSince its inception in 1934, the Masters has dripped in the antebellum codes of the South. Held at Augusta National Golf Club in Georgia, on a former indigo plantation, the only African Americans allowed on the course were groundskeepers and caddies. Nobody described the Masters more truthfully than the Los Angeles Times columnist Jim Murray. The tournament, he wrote in 1969, was “as white as the Ku Klux Klan.”In the months leading up to the 1975 Masters, Elder was the target of multiple death threats. “Sometimes it was sent to the course where I was playing, sometimes it came to my house,” he said. “Stuff like, ‘You better watch behind trees,’ ‘You won’t make it to Augusta.’ It was bad stuff, but I expected it.”But on April 10, 1975, there he stood, at the first tee, surrounded by a gallery full of close friends, including the football star Jim Brown. When Elder smashed his tee shot straight down the fairway, he did not just make history at the Masters, he pried open the cloistered and often racist world of golf to new possibilities.Looking back at the contours of his career beyond 1975, one sees a consistent solidity. He won three more PGA Tour titles and then eight on the Senior Tour and represented the United States in the Ryder Cup. It will always be a great unknown — the heights Elder could have reached if the opportunity had been equal and he had been able to play PGA Tour events in his prime.We can say this much for certain: Elder fixed himself in the sports history firmament at the Masters in 1975. He will always remain there, a North Star for others to follow.Woods came along just over two decades later, winning the 1997 Masters by 12 strokes and announcing himself as the heir not just to Elder but to Jack Nicklaus, who won at Augusta six times. As Woods marched past a gallery of awe-struck fans on his way to receive the champion’s green jacket for the first of five times, he saw Elder, and the two embraced. Past met present, paving the future.And yet the road to equality in golf remains elusive. The sport was overwhelmingly white in Elder’s era and overwhelmingly white when Woods burst on the scene. It remains overwhelmingly white.The game is “still slacking quite a bit” when it comes to diversity, Cameron Champ, 26, whose mother is white and father is Black, said while speaking about Elder this week. Champ is one of the few players of African American heritage on tour and one of the game’s most vocal about the need to diversify.It took until this year — prodded by tumultuous nationwide protests over racism and police brutality in 2020 — for the Masters to truly give Elder his due.In April, aside Nicklaus and Gary Player, Elder sat at Augusta National’s first tee as an honorary starter for this year’s tournament. Tubes snaked into his nose to deliver oxygen. He was too hobbled to take a shot.A gallery of the tournament’s players stood nearby, paying proper respect to a golfer whose greatness extended far beyond the fairway. The cold, crisp morning had a reverent, unforgettable feel, recalled Champ, whose paternal grandfather fell for golf in part because of Elder and then taught the game to his grandson.But it took 46 years for golf to honor Elder at the Masters. Think about that.Why didn’t it happen in 1985, the 10th anniversary of his smashing past Augusta National’s color line? Or in 1995, 20 years after the fact? Or at any other time?Why must change always take so long? More

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      Lee Elder, Who Broke a Golf Color Barrier, Dies at 87

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      In his prime he played in a league for Black players, but in 1975, at 40, he became the first African American to take part in the Masters tournament.Lee Elder, who became the first African American golfer to play in the Masters tournament, a signature moment in the breaking of racial barriers on the pro golf tour, died on Sunday in Escondido, Calif. He was 87.The PGA Tour announced the death but provided no other details.When Elder teed off at Augusta National Golf Club in Georgia in April 1975, he was 40 years old. Years earlier, in his prime, he played in the United Golfers Association tour, the sport’s version of baseball’s Negro leagues. The PGA of America, the national association of pro golfers, accepted only “members of the Caucasian race,” as its rules had spelled out, until 1961.Elder was among the leading players on the UGA tour, which over the years also featured such outstanding golfers as Ted Rhodes, Charlie Sifford, who was the first Black player on the PGA Tour, and Pete Brown while offering comparatively meager purses.Elder first played regularly on the PGA Tour in 1968, and that August he took Jack Nicklaus to a playoff at the American Golf Classic in Akron, Ohio, losing in sudden death.“The game of golf lost a hero in Lee Elder,” Nicklaus said in a statement on Monday.The Masters, played annually at Augusta National, had no clause barring Black golfers, but unofficially it remained closed to them. With the rise of the civil rights movement in the 1960s, however, it came under pressure to integrate its ranks.The tournament eased a bit in 1971 by announcing that any player who subsequently won a PGA Tour event would automatically qualify for it. Elder came close, finishing second in the Texas Open and losing a playoff to Lee Trevino in the Greater Hartford tournament in 1972.But those performances did not persuade the Masters to bend its new rule and accord Elder a spot. Elder broke through after capturing the 1974 Monsanto Open at the Pensacola Country Club in Florida, where six years earlier he and other African American PGA Tour members playing there had been refused entrance to the clubhouse. They had to dress in a parking lot.That victory finally brought the 1975 Masters invitation. In the run-up to the tournament Elder received death threats. He rented two houses near the Augusta National course and moved between them as a security measure.When he teed off for his first shot, a huge crowd lined the fairway. “I remember thinking, ‘How am I going to tee off without killing somebody,’” he told The New York Times in 2000, wryly reflecting on the pressure he faced.Elder at the Masters in 1975. Black employees of the Augusta National Golf Club lined the 18th fairway when he played it. “I couldn’t hold back the tears,” he said.Leonard Kamsler/Popperfoto via Getty ImagesHis shot off the first tee was straight down the middle, but he ended up far back in the field in the first two rounds, shooting 74 and 78, and missed the cut to continue to play through the weekend by four strokes. He received a fine reception from the galleries, though.“The display from the employees of Augusta National was especially moving,” Elder told Golf Digest in 2019. “Most of the staff was Black, and on Friday, they left their duties to line the 18th fairway as I walked toward the green. I couldn’t hold back the tears. Of all the acknowledgments of what I had accomplished by getting there, this one meant the most.”Elder played in the Masters six times, his top finish a tie for 17th place in 1979. He won four PGA Tour events and finished second 10 times, playing regularly through 1989 and earning $1.02 million in purses. He also played for the U.S. team in the 1979 Ryder Cup. He joined the PGA Senior Tour, now the Champions Tour, in 1984 and won eight times, earning more than $1.6 million. He won four tournaments overseas.Elder and his first wife, Rose Harper, created a foundation in 1974 to provide college scholarships for members of families with limited incomes. He promoted summer youth golf development programs and raised funds for the United Negro College Fund.In 2019, he received the United States Golf Association’s highest honor, the Bob Jones Award, named for the co-founder of the Masters and presented for outstanding sportsmanship.Elder in November 2020 at the Augusta club after he was named an honorary starter for the 2021 Masters.Doug Mills/The New York TimesRobert Lee Elder was born on July 14, 1934, in Dallas, one of 10 children. His father, Charles, a coal truck driver, was killed during Army service in Germany in World War II when Lee was 9. His mother, Almeta, died three months later.Elder caddied at an all-white club in the Dallas area, earning tips to help his family, then went to Los Angeles to live with an aunt. He worked as a caddy again and dropped out of high school to pursue a career in golf, at times touring the Southwest as a “hustler,” winning private bets against players who had no idea how good he was.At 18, after playing against the heavyweight champion Joe Louis, an avid golfer, Elder became a protégé of Rhodes, who was Louis’s golf instructor.Following two years in the stateside Army, Elder joined the United Golfers Association tour in 1961. In one stretch of 22 consecutive tournaments, he won 18.Gary Player, the South African native and one of golf’s greatest international golfers, invited Elder to play in his country’s Open and PGA championships in 1971, having received permission from the prime minister. Black people mingled with white in the crowd at what became the first integrated golf tournament in South Africa since the adoption of apartheid in 1948.Elder’s survivors include his second wife, Sharon, with whom he lived in Escondido. He returned to Augusta National in 1997 to watch Tiger Woods win the Masters by a record-setting 12 strokes, becoming the first African American golfer to win one of golf’s four major tournaments.Elder with Gary Player and Jack Nicklaus, right, during the opening ceremony of the 2021 Masters tournament in April. They were honorary starters. Jonathan Ernst/Reuters“Lee Elder came down, that meant a lot to me,” Woods said afterward. “He was the first. He was the one I looked up to. Charlie Sifford, all of them. Because of them, I was able to play here. I was able to play on the PGA Tour. When I turned pro at 20, I was able to live my dream because of those guys.”On April 8 this year, Elder became the first Black player to take part in a decades-old Masters tradition, joining Nicklaus and Player as that year’s honorary starters, who strike the tournament’s ceremonial first shots. Though he brought his clubs with him, arthritis in his knees left him without enough stability to take a shot.But he received a standing ovation. The ceremony, he said, “was one of the most emotional experiences I have ever been involved in” and “something I will cherish for the rest of my life.”Alex Traub contributed reporting. More

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      New Black N.B.A. Coaches Wonder Why It Took So Long to Get a Shot

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      The N.B.A.’s coaching ranks have long been dominated by white men, but a demand from Black players for more diversity may be changing things.Jamahl Mosley has traveled the world for basketball.He played for professional teams in Mexico, Australia, Spain, Finland and South Korea. He was a player development coach with the N.B.A.’s Denver Nuggets when Carmelo Anthony was there. He was an assistant coach for the Cleveland Cavaliers during the four long years after LeBron James left for Miami. Dirk Nowitzki’s final years with the Mavericks and the rise of Luka Doncic? Mosley was there, too, as an assistant in Dallas.He spent 16 seasons on N.B.A. coaching staffs, developing his skills and hoping for his big break to be a head coach. He had heeded his mother’s advice about playing college basketball for a Black coach, to learn leadership skills from someone who looked like him. The doubts about his ever getting that kind of job only surfaced in recent years when he interviewed for — and was turned down for — seven N.B.A. head coaching jobs.“Because you knew you were qualified,” Mosley said. “You knew you had interviewed well. You knew that you had the ability to do it.”The N.B.A.’s coaching and executive ranks have long been dominated by white men, even though more than 70 percent of players are Black. But this year, Mosley became part of an unusual off-season, in which seven of eight head coaching vacancies were filled by Black candidates. Five of them, including Mosley, who was hired by the Orlando Magic in July, are first-time head coaches. The others are Wes Unseld Jr. of the Washington Wizards, Willie Green of the New Orleans Pelicans, Ime Udoka of the Boston Celtics and Chauncey Billups of the Portland Trail Blazers. Jason Kidd of the Dallas Mavericks and Nate McMillan of the Atlanta Hawks had been head coaches elsewhere before.“If this was 15 years ago, we probably don’t get these positions,” Green said.The uptick — 13 of the league’s 30 coaches are now Black and two others are not white — came during a broader national conversation about race and hiring practices. Black players harnessed their voices to seek change that they felt was overdue.“This is a stain on the league that no one can deny,” Michele Roberts, the executive director of the players’ union, said in an interview, “and we’ve got to continue to do better.”‘There’s a natural cultural bond’Long before he became the coach of the Celtics, Udoka was a self-described student of the game. As a teenager in Portland, Ore., he would record games that featured some of his favorite college players, standouts like Syracuse’s Lawrence Moten and Lamond Murray of the University of California, Berkeley. Then he would head to the playground to mimic their moves. (Udoka still has a stack of VHS tapes at home.)“There’s a natural cultural bond that Black coaches are going to have with their players,” Boston Celtics Coach Ime Udoka said.Michael Dwyer/Associated Press“I wasn’t the most athletic or skilled guy,” Udoka said, “so I really had to use my brain for an advantage. I always thought through the game a certain way, and I think some coaches saw that in me, too.”Udoka grew up in a predominantly Black neighborhood, went to a Black high school and had Black coaches. He was not especially conscious of race, he said, since being in that environment was all he knew. But his high school coach “preached family and togetherness and a brotherhood,” Udoka said, and he carried those lessons with him.Udoka was bouncing around the N.B.A. as a defense-minded forward when he got what he described as “the coaching bug.” He helped found an Amateur Athletic Union team in Portland that included Terrence Ross and Terrence Jones, future N.B.A. players. Udoka also participated in coaching clinics hosted by the N.B.A. players’ union. After retiring, he joined the San Antonio Spurs in 2012 as an assistant under Gregg Popovich.The Celtics job opened in June when the team announced that Brad Stevens, who had coached the team for eight seasons, would be its new president of basketball operations. Jaylen Brown, one of the Celtics’ young stars, said in a recent interview with The Undefeated that he had told the team to hire a Black candidate. Representation was important to him, he said.Udoka, left, talked with Marcus Smart during a preseason game this month.Winslow Townson/Associated Press“Players were asking and demanding and wanting to see more guys who looked like them,” Udoka said. He added: “In coaching, I think there’s been a shift from Xs and Os and game plans to the value that’s placed on relationships. And there’s a natural cultural bond that Black coaches are going to have with their players.”Udoka said he was not suggesting that white coaches couldn’t bond with Black players. He cited Popovich, who is white, as someone who has long stressed the importance of relationships. But for a new coach on a new team, it would be naïve to believe that race was not a factor.“Basketball is mainly minority-based,” Celtics point guard Marcus Smart said in an interview. “So having a minority as a coach, I can connect with him. I can say things to him, or he can say things to me, and we get it. Whereas it’s different when you don’t. You have to try to figure out, OK, how can I meet them halfway?”Still, a coach is a coach: Udoka suspended Smart for the team’s preseason finale for breaking an unspecified team rule.‘This decision is coming fast’About three years ago, Rick Carlisle, as president of the National Basketball Coaches Association, was hearing from an increasing number of young assistants of diverse backgrounds who felt they were not getting a fair shake at head coaching jobs.The league and the coaches’ association soon began the N.B.A. Coaches Equality Initiative, a program aimed at developing young coaches and ensuring that qualified candidates are visible when jobs arise. Since 2019, there have been numerous workshops, summits, panel discussions and networking opportunities.David Vanterpool, left, was passed over for the head coaching job in Minnesota after the team fired Ryan Saunders, right.David Zalubowski/Associated PressAnd there is an app, a coaches database that was unveiled last year. It now includes profiles of about 300 coaches, whom the league’s power brokers — owners, general managers, team presidents — can access, Carlisle said. Coaches can upload their histories, their philosophies and even their interview clips. Think of it is as Bumble for the N.B.A. coaching set. But it is all part of a larger mission, said Oris Stuart, the chief people and inclusion officer for the league.“We have ongoing conversations with our teams about the importance of making sure that, as they’re making decisions, the process is inclusive,” Stuart said in an interview. “We focus on the importance of making sure that the best talent is considered, that we make a wide reach and that we go beyond the pre-established networks that people are working from.”But within the past year, the hiring processes for two white coaches — including the one that landed Carlisle with the Indiana Pacers — have been criticized for not appearing to be inclusive.The Minnesota Timberwolves fired Ryan Saunders as their coach in February and announced his replacement, Chris Finch, who is white, on the same day. The Timberwolves chose not to promote the team’s associate head coach, David Vanterpool, who is Black, which would have been typical after a midseason firing. (Vanterpool is now an assistant for the Nets.)The perception was that there was no way the Timberwolves could have seriously considered any Black candidates given their accelerated timeline, said Roberts, the executive director of the players’ union. The timing of the change, she added, “got under a lot of people’s skin.”Within days, Carlisle and David Fogel, the executive director of the coaches’ association, released a statement in which the organization expressed its “disappointment” with Minnesota’s search, saying that it is “our responsibility to point out when an organization fails to conduct a thorough and transparent search of candidates from a wide range of diverse backgrounds.”Rick Carlisle expressed some trepidation before he accepted the offer of head coach from the Indiana Pacers in June.Doug Mcschooler/Associated PressBut just a few months later, in June, Carlisle accepted the Pacers job after what appeared to be an abbreviated search. Indiana had fired Nate Bjorkgren earlier in the month after just one season, and they had interviewed only one other candidate when they offered Carlisle the job. Chad Buchanan, Indiana’s general manager, said in an interview that the team wanted an experienced coach and that Carlisle had unexpectedly become available after he resigned from the Dallas Mavericks, which he had coached for 13 seasons and led to a championship in 2011.Buchanan sought to assure Carlisle by telling him that the Pacers had interviewed 17 candidates, of whom eight were Black and one was female, before hiring Bjorkgren eight months earlier.“This was something I was concerned about,” Carlisle said, “but when they gave me that information, I was comfortable moving forward.”Washington Wizards Coach Wes Unseld Jr. was known as the Genius for his attention to detail and his instinctive feel for the game.Sarah Stier/Getty Images‘It’s more of a systemic issue’As an economics major at Johns Hopkins University, Wes Unseld Jr. thought he would get into investment banking. But for two summers, before and after graduating in 1997, he interned for the Wizards. His father, also Wes, who was synonymous with the franchise from his Hall of Fame playing days, had moved into the front office as the team’s general manager after seven seasons as its head coach. The elder Unseld invited his son to learn the ropes, just in case the financial world was not for him.“If you’re going to be in this business, you’ve got to learn the business,” Wes Unseld Jr. recalled his father telling him. “So I’m thinking, OK, I’ll be around basketball. ‘No, you’re going to intern in every department.’ Community relations, public relations, marketing, sales — you name it, I did it.”Unseld, who was a very good Division III player for Johns Hopkins, soon realized that he could not leave the game behind, and he became one of the many unsung, behind-the-scenes fixtures in the N.B.A. After eight seasons as a scout for Washington, he spent the next 16 as an assistant for various teams around the league. He refined offenses. He built defenses. With the Wizards, he was known as The Genius for his attention to detail and his instinctive feel for the game. In Denver, he helped shape Nikola Jokic and Jamal Murray into stars.Yet Unseld could not land a head coaching job. He said he was never sure if his race was a factor. “When an opportunity doesn’t pan out, sometimes it’s easy to ask, ‘Was it that?’” Unseld said. “And it may have been. It’s difficult to tell.”Willie Green, the head coach of the New Orleans Pelicans, spoke to reporters at a news conference last month.Sean Gardner/Getty ImagesAfter a record 14 Black coaches were manning benches for teams at the start of the 2012-13 season, those numbers dipped in subsequent years, showing how tenuous progress can be. Unseld said the N.B.A. is “a network business like any other business.”“If you’re not connected to the decision makers, it can be difficult,” he said. “I don’t know if it’s an overt way of not interviewing or not giving people of color a chance, but maybe they just don’t have that network to pull from. It’s more of a systemic issue.”Roberts commended the coaches’ association for working to address that issue in recent seasons. But the real power, she said, has come from the players themselves.“A happy team is probably a more successful team,” she said. “And if the players think management is thumbing its nose at their articulated concerns about a coaching staff, then what’s their motivation to stay?”In New Orleans, Willie Green often thinks of his uncle, Gary Green, who coached him when he was growing up in Detroit, and who imbued him with the fundamentals. After several years as an assistant with Golden State and Phoenix, Green said he felt a heightened sense of responsibility.“We have to be caretakers of these opportunities,” he said.In Boston, Garrett Jackson, a former player on Udoka’s A.A.U. team, is now one of Udoka’s video coordinators. And Mosley got his first win for the Magic with a narrow victory against the Knicks at Madison Square Garden. He was gifted the game ball, then got back to business.“It’s like anything,” he said. “You just put your head down and do the work.” More

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      Magic Johnson, le business, la NBA, les Lakers et LeBron

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      Johnson prédit le nom des prochaines grandes équipes rivales au sein de la N.B.A, et évoque son seul regret du temps où il dirigeait les Los Angeles Lakers.The New York Times traduit en français une sélection de ses meilleurs articles. Retrouvez-les ici.Beaucoup d’athlètes de nos jours envisagent leur héritage au-delà des terrains de compétition, au travers d’entreprises qu’ils auront créées et de soutien apporté à leurs communautés. Magic Johnson a été pionnier de cet état d’esprit en fondant un empire commercial une fois sa carrière de joueur de la N.B.A, la National Basketball Association derrière lui.“C’était tout naturel pour moi de revenir dans la communauté dans laquelle j’avais grandi, pour l’aider à changer, pour fonder des entreprises et créer des emplois pour les gens”, nous explique Johnson lors d’un récent entretien téléphonique. “Ce qui manquait dans la communauté Noire, c’était des services et des produits de qualité.”Et Johnson de citer des joueurs comme LeBron James, Kevin Durant et Stephen Curry comme exemples de joueurs qui suivent ses pas: en inspirer d’autres, sur le terrain et en dehors.Johnson a servi d’ambassadeur officieux de la N.B.A. pendant la quasi-totalité de sa vie d’adulte: sa rivalité avec Larry Bird et les Boston Celtics dans les années 1980 a propulsé vers des sommets la notoriété de la ligue auprès du grand public, et les exploits de la Dream Team dont il faisait partie aux Jeux Olympiques d’été en 1992 ont contribué à populariser le jeu à l’échelle mondiale.Ce titre est maintenant officiel: pour célébrer ses 75 ans, la N.B.A. a choisi Johnson, Clyde Drexler Dirk Nowitzki, Bob Pettit et Oscar Robertson pour représenter, en 2021-2002, les différentes périodes de son histoire.Johnson, qui a abruptement quitté son rôle de président des opérations basketball des Los Angeles Lakers en 2019, va également faire son retour cette saison sur la chaîne d’informations sportives ESPN comme commentateur dans l’émission “NBA Countdown”.L’ancienne star des Lakers a accordé une interview au New York Times dans laquelle il évoque l’état actuel du basketball, cette ère d’émancipation des joueurs, et un regret personnel qu’il garde de son mandat à la tête des Lakers.Cette interview a été condensée et légèrement éditée pour des besoins de clarté.La N.B.A. connaîtra-t-elle à nouveau de vraies rivalités, comme dans les années 1980 quand les Lakers se retrouvaient presque toujours en finale contre les Celtics?Je crois que, plus les Knicks et les Nets jouent, plus ça a des chances d’arriver, vous ne trouvez pas? Parce que Brooklyn est maintenant une équipe championne. Et les Knicks sont une équipe de playoff. Et c’est ce qu’on va voir. Donc ce qui se passe, c’est qu’il faut qu’elles soient bonnes au même moment. Il faut qu’il y ait vraiment de la haine entre elles.Quand on voyait Philadelphia contre Boston, Dr. J [Julius Erving] et Larry Bird, Chicago contre Detroit, Isiah Thomas, Bad Boys contre les Bulls de Michael Jordan, ils avaient une vraie aversion les uns pour les autres. Donc je pense qu’on est en train de créer quelques-unes de ces rivalités. Je ne sais pas si elle sera un jour aussi intense que celle des Lakers-Celtics, mais si au moins on arrive à une espèce de rivalité, c’est prometteur.Pour Johnson (à gauche), qui a gagné cinq championnats avec les Los Angeles Lakers, le secret d’une vraie rivalité entre équipes de la N.B.A. est qu’il y ait “vraiment de la haine entre elles”.AP Photo/Lennox McLendonUne grande partie de ce que vous laissez en héritage, c’est ce vous avez accompli en dehors des terrains de basket, comme businessman dans les commmunautés défavorisées. Qu’avez-vous appris en travaillant avec ces dernières, et quelles erreurs de grandes entreprises qui tentent de faire pareil avez-vous notées? voir ?Eh bien le commerce de détail a fait l’erreur de penser qu’on ne pouvait pas faire d’argent avec la communauté Noire. Et sans surprise, on a prouvé le contraire avec les Magic Johnson Theatres . C’est pour ça qu’on voit les grands détaillants s’investir plus que jamais aujourd’hui dans l’Amérique urbaine, parce qu’ils savent qu’ils auront un retour sur investissement.Ils essaient aussi de faire du bien dans nos communautés. Je dis toujours: on peut à la fois bien faire et faire du bien. Quand est arrivé toute cette histoire avec George Floyd, le fait qu’il ait été assassiné, on a vu beaucoup d’entreprises du Fortune 500 — parce qu’il y avait tellement de jeunes qui manifestaient dans les rues. Mais c’était pas juste des Noirs — c’était aussi des Blancs et d’autres groupes de personnes. C’est là que tout le monde s’est dit: “Ça suffit. Je dois faire quelque chose. Je vais investir dans l’Amérique urbaine. “Pas mal de PDG m’ont appelé pour dire : “Earvin, on veut faire quelque chose. On n’a aucune idée quoi faire.” J’ai répondu, “Eh bien vous pourriez commencer avant tout par mettre de l’argent dans des petites banques Noires parce que le Paycheck Protection Program, un programme fédéral d’aide aux entreprises touchées par la pandémie, n’a pas eu de retombées chez les Latinos, les propriétaires de petites entreprises, les petits entrepreneurs Noirs, ou les femmes entrepreneures. Et si ces banques avaient des fonds, alors elles pourraient vraiment accorder des prêts à ces entrepreneurs ou aux gens qui veulent s’acheter un premier logement, dans la communauté Noire. Maintenant elles ont plus de cash pour accorder plus de prêts, n’est-ce pas?” Alors il y en a beaucoup qui ont fait ça. Ensuite je leur ai dit, “Écoutez, votre conseil d’administration doit refléter l’Amérique, alors il faut que vous recrutiez davantage de gens ou que vous élargissiez vos conseils d’administration, et aussi au niveau de la direction et de la haute hiérarchie, il faut inclure davantage de minorités à ce niveau-là.”Est-ce que ça vous intéresserait de diriger à nouveau une franchise de la N.B.A?Tout dépend de la situation, donc si de bonnes criconstances se présentent, j’y réfléchirai peut-être. Tout est une question de timing. Tout dépend de l’équipe. Moi je suis un Laker du matin au soir, donc il y a des chances que je retravaille avec Jeanie Buss, et c’est pas une blague. C’est sérieux.On m’a déjà proposé d’être le propriétaire de certaines de ces équipes, et puis j’ai décliné ces offres. Mais encore une fois, j’aime tellement ce sport. Je connais ce sport. Je connais les joueurs. Je connais les agents. Ce qui est bien avec moi, c’est que je suis là où je sais ce qui marche. Je sais à quoi ressemble une équipe gagnante qui a sa place dans le championnat. Donc je sais comment parler aux joueurs — vous n’avez qu’à demander à Julius Randle et à Lonzon Ball et tous ceux-là, parce que j’aime les voir avancer et réussir si bien, et donc les aider à atteindre leur meilleur potentiel. C’était ça mon rôle, et après tu les vois y arriver. C’était vraiment bien de voir ça.Rétrospectivement, y a-t-il des choses que vous auriez fait différemment à la direction des Lakers?Non, j’avais un plan en tête. On était au dessus du plafond salarial. Mon plan était de nous faire passer ce plafond. On y est arrivé. J’ai dû faire des choix difficiles. Julius était en train de monter. Je sais que Larry Nance Jr. était en train de monter, donc on a dû prendre des décisions difficiles qui leur allaient, mais qui allaient aussi aux autres Lakers. Donc je ne pouvais pas leur signer ces rallonges parce que je savais que LeBron était en train de monter, et Kawhi Leonard et tous ces gars-là, donc j’essayais de réserver un peu de ce plafond, pour pouvoir signer une de ces superstars, parce qu’on ne peut pas gagner un championnat sans superstar. Au final, on a fait les choses comme il fallait.La seule chose que j’aurais peut-être dû faire, c’était peut-être de parler à LeBron avant de démissionner, parce que je sentais que je lui devais ça, donc je dirais que c’est peut–être la seule erreur que j’aie faite, de ne pas avoir parlé à Jeanie ni parlé à LeBron avant les faits. Oui, ça je ne le referais pas pareil.LeBron James est arrivé à Los Angeles tard dans sa carrière. Qu’est-ce qu’il peut faire pour gravir les échelons et devenir un des plus grands Lakers de l’histoire?La réponse, vous la connaissez: gagner, c’est tout. Il faut qu’il en gagne un autre. Les fans des Lakers l’adorent déjà. Il nous en déjà gagné un. Il a déjà son maillot, qui sera accroché, mais la plupart des gars qui sont chez les Lakers ont gagné plusieurs championnats. C’est tout ce qu’il a à faire. En gagner un autre, c’est tout. Parce qu’après, il ne s’agit pas juste des Lakers. Il s’agit de l’héritage qu’il laisse ici, et c’est pas seulement ici — c’est à Hollywood aussi. LeBron, il est tellement extraordinaire, et pas uniquement comme joueur de basketball: c’est la plus grande célébrité dans la ville de la célébrité. Il faut lui reconnaître ça, aussi. More