How the NBA Failed Manute Bol

I am by no means an NBA fan. Being the white kid in elementary school who was constantly getting crossed and dunked on at recess pretty much cemented my thinking that I had chosen the right sport in hockey.

Yet as a sports fan, I am aware of the league’s stars. I lived in Toronto throughout the Vince Carter heyday, and I remember the summer between grade seven and eight filled with dunk competitions with friends on my backyard Fisher Price net. I remember the Carter Nike commercials, the “Be Like Mike” Michael Jordan ad campaign. I’ve heard of Allen Iverson’s arrests and domestic disputes, as well as his subsequent shoe deals.

Until today, I had never heard of Manute Bol.

Manute Bol played in the NBA for 10 years, from 1985 – 1995. Known as a shot blocking specialist (at 7 feet 7 inches, he is the tallest man to have ever played in the league), he was a useful yet unspectacular player, allowing his height not to be all that defined him on the court. Many remember him for his attempts at three – point shooting, unheard of for someone around his size. Yet what defined Bol both during and after his career were his humanitarian efforts. A native of Sudan, Africa, Manute (whose name translates to “spiritual blessing”) constantly donated both is time and his money to his homeland, even entering warzones during his playing career to help those in danger. Yet many never heard of that. In a touching article in the Kansas City Star that ran around three weeks ago, columnist Sam Mellinger says that,

“Bol is at best a cult hero and at worse a freak show. Maybe if Bol was a better player we’d pay more attention. Maybe if he was doing his good deeds closer to our home, instead of his, we’d help him more.”

Aware of Bol’s initiatives, the NBA did little to promote the selfless deeds of one of its players, deciding instead to focus more on the talented bad boys in a league that was full of them. When Bol played for the Miami Heat, he was fined $25,000 by the team for missing two exhibition games. He was instead in Washington D.C. for Congress-sponsored peace talks between rebel leaders from Sudan. Allen Iverson, on the other hand, was known to miss team practices during the playoffs because he was, well, Allen Iverson. Guess which one got a commercial?

Bol is said to have made over 6 million dollars over his career in the NBA, and said to have donated almost all of it to his humanitarian causes back home. The league’s “NBA Cares” program, said to be a “global community outreach initiative that addresses important social issues such as education, youth and family development,” has donated nothing. Ironically enough, the top story on their website today says that the Miami Heat have decided to help Haiti. “There’s guys who give away turkeys in the ‘hood and get more props than this guy building schools in the Sudan,” says Steve Perry, an expert on social issues.

As Bol grew older and left his playing days farther behind him, he began to take on any humiliating act that could help him raise money for Sudanese charities. He strapped on the skates for a pro hockey game, took part in a celebrity boxing match, and even became a horse jockey for a day. “There’s no way I can put the money in my pocket while my people are getting beat up,” he once said. “Whatever I can do to help my people I will do. I feel whatever I make here I make for my people.”

After spending the last several months building schools in Sudan, Bol became ill and fell victim to kidney failure. The medicine that was given to him in Africa then gave him Stevens-Johnson syndrome, a horrific skin condition that is often fatal.

Bol passed away this morning at the age of 47.

And that’s why I’ve decided to write this blog post tonight. With some down time on Thursday night, I ended up watching the end of game seven of the NBA Finals. I saw NBA alumnus Magic Johnson take to the court after the Lakers’ win, sharing the championship moment with Los Angeles Lakers’ star Kobe Bryant, a man accused of rape only a few years ago. I watched fan-fighting Ron Artest promote his upcoming rap album and thank his psychiatrist in a post-game interview. I watched people I respect as athletes but not as men gloat and celebrate and receive adoration from thousands of fans. Manute Bol lay in his hospital bed, dying because he wanted to put others ahead of himself.

Would it have been too much to ask of the NBA to promote a good-guy image of one of its athletes for once? To move away from the locker room gun controversies and the rape accusations and the shootings and shed some light on a man who graced their courts doing legitimate good in the world? Did not one person in the public relations office think that maybe, just maybe, demonstrating that the NBA was involved with more than highlight reels and player controversies might prove mutually beneficial to both the league and the cause?

I grew up idolizing various athletes for the skills they possessed in their respective sport. I did not know that Mats Sundin was a chain smoker when I was 12, and I am happy as hell that I didn’t. I wanted to be these men, and I mimicked their every move. When I heard Paul Kariya was a fanatic about his flexibility, I began to stretch every night before bed. When I heard that Roger Clemens used to throw a ball at a wall to work on his pitching as a youngster, I spent the next three weeks outside wearing out the back of my garage with every pitch I knew how to throw. So if I’d heard that one of my favourite athletes spent his time helping those in need? Maybe I would have spent less time on my game and more time organizing school fundraisers. But I didn’t. Most sports were happy to promote the fact that their star players could score or hit or jump beyond my imagination, and kick their personal-life rap sheets under the carpet.

I understand the point is to grow the game. Fine. Just don’t tell me that your league is committed to helping resolve pressing social issues worldwide and support that statement with pictures of teaching kids in Korea how to shoot free throws. Do you legitimately care, or are you only doing these things to show fans that you do them? Manute Bol risked, and ultimately lost his life by dedicating it to something bigger than himself. He repeatedly demonstrated forgiveness, compassion and selflessness, even when the lifestyle that he had been granted in the NBA gave him any excuse to do anything but. So go on with your bling and your youtube videos and your inspirational Kobe commercials that I know are coming out sometime in October. Let the league give the fans what will ultimately lead to more money in their owner’s oversized back pockets. A seemingly great man died today. And he died richer in spirit and respect than any of us could ever hope for. No NBA contract is going to give you that.