Remembering the NBA's Implicitly Racist Dress Code, and the Players Who Were Most Affected
Before David Stern implemented a dress code trying to rid the league of "thuggisness," these dudes shined.
Image via Complex Original
Chances are if you’re a basketball fan—or even just a human being with an Internet connection—you know by now that Donald Sterling is a racist. Late last week news broke that the Los Angeles Clippers owner and billionaire real estate mogul could be heard on tape deriding his half-black, half-Mexican girlfriend V. Stiviano for associating with African-Americans. It was fine with Sterling if Stiviano wanted to sleep with a black guy, she just couldn’t invite Magic Johnson to a Clips game, and she sure as hell couldn’t post a picture with the 5x NBA champion on Instagram. The logic of bigots is, as always, ironclad.
While the NBA is often seen as fairly progressive when it comes to issues of equality (receiving an A+ rating in racial hiring practices from the Institute of Diversity and Ethics in Sport for 2013), in a league where the vast majority of the players are African-American and a large portion of front office management remains white, racism and misunderstanding are bound to rear their ugly heads from time to time, if only in more subtle ways that can be described as implicit or systematical as opposed to explicit, flat-out hatred.
This general division has the potential to harvest a culture that breeds canyons of misunderstanding, unenlightenment, and at times straight-up bigotry like that exhibited by Donald Sterling. We're not assigning blame at all or giving him an out whatsoever, but in the infamous leaked audio tapes, Sterling kept referring to a culture that he was a part of and that his girlfriend didn't understand. Whether this was supposed to refer to his gated country club, high-flying executive inner circle, the National Basketball League, or just the disillusions of a hateful man, perpetuating a system that is largely non-integrated by race or class will lead to ignorance between individuals, hierarchical rungs, and entire cultures.
Enter: the NBA dress code.
Implemented in October of 2005 by former commissioner David Stern, the NBA dress code was meant to distance the league from its then “thuggish” (and we all know what that really means) image in the mainstream. The rule made it mandatory for players to wear a jacket and tie before games, after games, during interviews, on the bench while injured, and in attendance at league charity events. Though some might assume that superstars today like Lebron James, Kevin Durant, and Russell Westbrook choose to dress sharp and take style risks within the dressier sector of menswear, the reality is that players can still be fined thousands of dollars for straying beyond the constraints mandated by the league.
While the rule drew criticism from certain players and fans at the time—condemning Stern and the league for once again blindly associating hip-hop style with crime and thugdom—it seems to have faded from the public consciousness in recent years and simply become another part of the game (and not nearly as offensive and wrong as Sterling's words). So here, as a “fuck you” to the oft-forgotten rule that sought to weed out the "thuggery" that, according to the NBA, goes hand-in-hand with streetwear and hip-hop style, are The Players Who Were Most Affected by the NBA's Implicitly Racist Dress Code.
Tim Duncan
Of course Timmy, perhaps the most fundamentally sound (read: most boring) player in the history of the NBA has to use his quickly evaporating fashion freedom to dress like a founding pioneer of normcore. Extra points for very clearly not giving a shit how he looks. The ensemble perfectly encapsulates the Spurs persona: nothing too flashy, but still gets the job done, by which we mean these clothes ostensibly protect him from rain and cold.
Richard Hamilton
If Rip had rocked the signature face mask with this custom "RIP CITY" jersey, durag, and 4th grader's dopp kit, he'd have looked like MF Doom's fun-loving cousin. But if post-dress code means you're going to dress like an Applebee's host, then you were clearly doing better before. Maybe he's prepping for a career as a sports announcer?
J.R. Smith
If the NBA ever tries to ban tattoos, Lord knows J.R. Blood will be organizing a league-wide hunger strike to get the rule overturned. Smith came into the pros only one season before the dress code was implemented, and perhaps the greatest tragedy of all is that there wasn’t more time to see all the wild shit JR would have rocked while strolling into Madison Square Garden every night and before he became a fan of New York Fashion Week.
Rasheed Wallace
Ball don't lie! And neither does this championship belt Rasheed had made after the Pistons won the 2004 NBA title. Pretty sure now that he's retired Sheed still wears this thing out to the supermarket and Home Depot on Sundays. We imagine Stern would've popped many a blood vessel had Sheed strapped on the belt over a three-piece suit.
Kobe Bryant
Kobe really, really wanted to be MJ for the longest time. But at least he looks dope wearing his feelings on his sleeves (and everything else). In addition to pre-dress code steez, this photo was also clearly taken before the NBA stadium cigar ban.
Shaquille O'Neal
Clearly one of the most fun-loving big men in the game would have an outrageous wardrobe to match, but Shaq's late-'90s and early-2000s hip-hop style was dope, in a class-clown kind of way. It's even more impressive that his gear always kept people guessing what was next, considering that the amount of fabric he needed could've been used in a Christo and Jean-Clause artwork.
Carmelo Anthony
Carmelo Anthony’s cornrows aren’t the only thing that’s changed since his Nuggets days. Clearly the Brooklyn-born, Baltimore-bred baller once had a penchant for camouflage gear, but today Melo is more likely to be seen gracing the pages of GQ and cruising the floor of exclusive timepiece boutiques than decked-out in military fatigues (or in the playoffs for that matter...).
Ron Artest
Metta World Peacea aka The Artist Formerly Known as Ron "So Gutta, So Hood" Artest aka Tru Warier aka Lil' Ron Ron. One of the biggest motivating factors behind David Stern implementing the dress code was the infamous "Malice at the Palace" brawl where World Peace (oh, the sweet, sweet irony of that name) lunged into the crowd and beat a Detroit Pistons fan for throwing a cup of beer at him. Even if Stern's legacy is a condescending move towards hip-hop culture and style, the one consolation is we never again saw a T-shirt with "So Hood" spelled out in sequins.
Paul Pierce
Paul Pierce was one of the players most vocal in his distaste for the dress code in 2005, accusing the league of specifically targeting its African-American players with the new rule.
“When I saw the part about chains, hip-hop and throwback jerseys, I think that’s part of our culture,” Pierce said. “The NBA is young black males.”
The dress code wouldn’t be the last time Pierce and the NBA butted heads over issues of race and culture, either. In 2008 the then-Celtic was fined $25,000 for allegedly flashing a gang sign at Atlanta Hawks center Al Horford during a playoff loss. Pierce claimed the “b” he threw up stood for “blood, sweat and tears”—a Celtics mantra—and had no relation to the Bloods of his hometown Inglewood, CA. In today’s NBA, a photo like the one above would probably cost The Truth another $25K, just for the ambiguous hand gesture he’s throwing up.
Allen Iverson
Allen Iverson immediately made his mark in the league as a young brash star who became an icon for a large portion of the NBA's fan base. And he soon was, whether he wanted to or not, playing the part of David Stern's nemesis. A.I. was one of the first high-profile players to rock tattoos, statement chains, and other facets of style that dominated hip-hop at the time, drawing the ire of Stern and the league and becoming the anti-hero we all rooted for.
His off-the-court style and demeanor were a huge part of his stardom. Leave it to Allen Iverson to show up to a post-game interview channeling Cam'ron with the blue fur, matching fitted, and white durag. But consider this: Would the legendary "Practice" rant have been half as effective if A.I. was wearing a gingham shirt and suspenders? The Answer (pun intended) is no. Case closed.