Black people don’t surf? This org proves that’s not true The Black Surfers Collective aims to dispel the myth by offering free surf lessons

Four years ago, Detroit native Mimi Miller had never been in the ocean. Now she’s a devoted bodyboarder, surfer and volunteer for the Black Surfers Collective — a group that, according to its mission, raises cultural awareness and promotes diversity in the sport of surfing through community activities, outreach and camaraderie.

On Aug. 12, you could find Miller standing on the shoreline of Los Angeles’ Santa Monica State Beach, clapping and cheering on newcomers who took part in the collective’s monthly free lessons to introduce black people to surfing, called Pan African Beach Days.

Being active in the L.A.-based collective, with its 799 members on Facebook, has allowed her to do something she enjoys in a supportive, vibrant atmosphere: “I love the community,” she explained in between chasing down stray boards and yelling “Good job!” to kids and adults alike.

About 111 people signed up for the Aug. 12 event, although the collective cannot safely accommodate such a large number. Still, a good 40 people, ranging from young kids to middle-aged participants, got training and coaching. Most did not have experience surfing.

Miller and the rest of the collective’s members are part of the proud if lesser-known tradition of black surfing, which some would argue goes back to native Hawaiians (descendants of Polynesians), who are credited with inventing the sport in the first place. Among the legendary surf icons are Montgomery “Buttons” Kaluhiokalani, a black Hawaiian whom Surfer magazine called “the father of modern day surfing.”

L.A. has its own lore, beginning with black surf pioneer Nick Gabaldon, who frequented the Inkwell Beach in Santa Monica in the 1940s, where black beachgoers congregated during segregation. Also, the late Dedon Kamathi, a radio host and onetime Black Panther, was a surfing devotee, as was police abuse victim Rodney King.

Founder and co-president of the Black Surfers Collective, Greg Rachal is a former skateboarder who found his way onto a longboard early on. “I’ve been in and out of the water all my life, since I was 13,” he said.

Rachal and his wife, Marie, are beach enthusiasts and a vital presence in the collective, which organizes camping and surf trips and takes a leadership role in an annual tribute to Gabaldon.

Rachal’s son, Greg Jr., 15, volunteers on the collective’s surf days because he likes giving back. He is on his school’s surf team, which sometimes comes as a surprise to his white classmates. Greg Jr. would like to see more African-Americans in surfing. Until then, he said, he enjoys defying stereotypes.

He’s not alone. Waterman Michael Brown Parlor has been surprising people with his prowess in lifeguarding, surfing and sailing since he was a college student in South Carolina in the 1970s. He’s retired from surfing and mentors female surfers in competitive events, believing girls don’t get the respect they deserve in the sport. He spent Pan African Beach Day encouraging newbie surfers and taking pictures for his Facebook page devoted to surfing.

Pan African Beach Day was launched a few years ago because too few black people in L.A. get to the beach, and they don’t always have a background in swimming to enjoy the water, Rachal explained. He credited the Surf Bus Foundation, a nonprofit that promotes ocean sports and safety in L.A., for helping make Beach Day a success by supplying the boards, instructing students and providing additional volunteers. Beach Days are open to anyone, although most participants are people of color.

Before they took to the waves Aug. 12, participants gathered on the beach for a talk about ocean safety and played some games that got them into the water. Then it was time to plop themselves on boards laid out in the sand, where they learned how to position their arms and feet and practice their “pop up,” the tricky move from prone to upright, ending in a stance with knees bent and arms extended.

After some popping up, volunteer instructors such as Rachal and other members of the collective took participants into the water, finding the right wave and giving them a push forward. Some newcomers rode the boards on their bellies, zooming into shore with their arms extended, while others proved agile enough to stand up, maintain balance and ride in — always an exhilarating moment for a student and instructor. Waves were small, and wipeouts were minor.

Participant Pierre Scott had attended a few Pan African Beach Days before and was having a good run, standing up and even angling into the barrel of the wave, not just riding into shore.

“I love it. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do,” Scott said.

“It’s a hype experience,” said Garry Maxwell, who chuckled about the language of surfing, explaining that “I’m stoked.”

Devin Waller was a beginner and felt a bit nervous. But she felt the stoke the first time she stood up on the board.

“It was awesome,” Waller said after the session ended, depositing her board on the sand. “Heck yeah, I’m going to do it again.”

Olympian Micha Powell runs a different course: Embracing failure as a means to success A weekly series from the sprinter on balancing sports, school and life

Hey, all, Micha Powell here. Welcome to my video diary! I’m a recent University of Maryland graduate with a bachelor’s degree in broadcast journalism, three-time NCAA All-American and 2016 Canadian Olympian.

If you’ve wondered what it takes to be a track and field student-athlete and compete at the international level, look no further. With this weekly video diary, you can follow my journey from training as a student-athlete at UMD to representing Canada at the 2017 World University Games in Taipei, Taiwan, at the end of August. With my degree in broadcast journalism, I will use my reporting and editing skills to produce an in-depth look at the high-performance world of a 400-meter sprinter.


Week 2

After I was named to the Canadian Olympic team in 2016, I thought that everything in my life would fall into alignment. I was going into my senior year of college at the University of Maryland as captain of the track and field team and on course to graduate with a B.A. in broadcast journalism in the spring. Also, with my new title as Olympian, I had an edge over my college competitors, having experienced the pressure of being selected to represent my country on the world stage. I felt prepared to dive in, headfirst, into my most intense year at Maryland. Unbeknownst to me at the time, it would be the most mentally and physically challenging season of my track career thus far.

I had been chosen to represent Canada at the 2016 Olympics based on my personal best (PB) time of 51.97 seconds in the 400 meters that I clocked at the 2016 East Regional Championships in Florida. At the beginning of my 2017 outdoor track season, I became transfixed with my best time from the previous year and was determined to run an even faster PB. I had dropped a second every year since I joined the UMD track team and was hoping to continue my streak. That was until I experienced my first substantial injury. Over spring training, I ran a tuneup 200-meter race to increase my speed and suddenly felt something not uncommon in the world of track and field: a hamstring strain. This slight hiccup quickly turned into a recurring pain that no amount of treatment (up to three hours a day) could quickly fix.

Regardless of this setback, my plan was simple. I would go to physical therapy until my body readjusted itself, and then I would be back running in time for my Canadian Championships, where I would run a world standard qualifying time to secure my spot on the World Championship Canadian team. My one-dimensional thought process led me to assume that I would make the Canadian team this year simply based on making national teams in the past. I didn’t allow myself to acknowledge the truth about my circumstance. I had to sooner or later face the fact that I could not rely on last year’s outcome to predict my coming track season.

My athletic trainer, Anthony Benyarko, concluded that my symptoms were a result of lower crossed syndrome (LCS). I did not want to admit that I had been running with LCS because of its association with muscle imbalance, which I interpreted as a weakness. I wanted to put on a brave face and not tell anyone the severity of my pain in the hope that it would go away. Call it pride or arrogance, but I thought if I didn’t speak my injury into existence, maybe I would still be able to run fast. After two months of rehabilitation exercises, Benyarko helped me master these new strengthening movements and my confidence came back full-fledged, and I was eager to get back into my spikes.

After I was cleared, I had a breakthrough toward the end of my outdoor collegiate track season at the 2017 East Regional Championships in Kentucky, when I ran a 52.15 (0.05 seconds off the world standard time). However, it came at the expense of my hamstring feeling like I had shredded it coming out of the blocks. I was too determined to not end my senior year without trying my hardest to qualify for NCAAs, so I kept pumping my arms throughout that race and did my best to ignore the excruciating pain in my leg. Wanting to make it to nationals and get the world standard so badly to race at the 2017 World Championships in Athletics in London blinded me to the fact that I was still running hurt.

In June 2017, my leg held up just enough for me to earn second-team All-American honors at my last NCAA Outdoor Track and Field Championships in Oregon. I was still favoring one leg, but I told myself that I could last a little longer until my Canadian track and field trials for the world team in July.

After weeks of training in the muggy Maryland heat with my coach prepping me for the Canadian Championships, I believed — no, I wanted to believe — that I still had another faster time left in my legs. The moment had come, and I was mentally ready to compete at my third senior-level Canadian national competition. I only had to convince myself that I was physically ready to leave it all out on the track. I made it through the semifinals with a time of 53.69 but considered scratching the finals because of the immense discomfort I was still feeling in my leg. I made my final decision during my warm-up before stepping onto the track for the 400-meter finals. I looked to my coach, the great world-record holder, Andrew Valmon, and decided I wanted to race one more time to honor all the work we’d put into training.

The announcers presented the lineup, and the track was closed off to everyone but the eight of us sprinters who qualified for the finals. I settled myself into my blocks, and within an instant the starting gun went off and I didn’t look back. I crossed the finish line only to realize that I had been disqualified for a lane violation near the 300-meter mark. Realizing I was not going to run at Worlds was devastating, to say the least. I felt like I had let down my coaches, family and friends who had come to see me race at what I thought would be the highlight of my season. I reflected back on my past five years in track right then and there and thought, Did I do all of this for nothing? I felt hopeless and did my best to mask my sadness. My mind kept going over my new reality. There would be no postrace interviews, no world team nomination celebration and no chance for me to show the world what I’m capable of doing around a 400m track in London.

I had to come to terms with the truth. My path had been altered. I was going to either accept this change in course or dwell over everything that didn’t go right in my track season. I decided on the former and promised myself that I was going to focus on getting my lower back and hips stronger to alleviate the pressure it was putting on my hamstring. I have to hold myself accountable, and only then will I be able to come back and run stronger than before. The best way I can grow and learn from this experience is to accept that success doesn’t come without failure. I refuse to let a setback prevent me from going after my goal of being the best Canadian 400-meter runner. It won’t be an easy road ahead; however, I know that disappointment from my shortcomings filled my heart with more desire and a mindset void of complacency.

‘Saturday Night Live’s’ Colin Jost and Michael Che aren’t mascots for the resistance ‘The Weekend Update’ hosts discuss real and fake news — and giving LaVar Ball a wedgie

Thanks to a never-ending presidential campaign and an even wackier Election Day aftermath, Saturday Night Live once again became the can’t-miss nexus of weekly political comedy that it hadn’t been since Sarah Palin was a candidate for vice president.

The show was rewarded with 22 Emmy nominations (tying HBO’s Westworld for most nods in 2017) and record ratings. It’s doing so well that NBC has spun off its Weekend Update segment into a stand-alone show, Weekend Update: Summer Edition, which premiered Aug. 10 and will continue airing Thursdays at 9 p.m. EST. SNL’s cast, including Update hosts Michael Che and Colin Jost, have become mascots for the Resistance. And while Kate McKinnon, Alec Baldwin, and Melissa McCarthy have embraced that role, it’s made Che and Jost uncomfortable. Neither of them got into comedy to change the world. That may seem odd, given that Che is a former Daily Show correspondent and Jost is a former journalist, both jobs that required a greater-than-average literacy about news and politics.

And yet, Che and Jost insist we’re taking them way more seriously than they take themselves. “If you had a joke they liked … now people are like, ‘Thank you, on a political level,’ or something, which is weird as a comedian,” Jost said. “That’s not really the point of what we’re doing. We’re not really doing political activism, we’re just trying to figure out what’s funny if we can.”

“It’s taken on different kind of importance that I don’t know that we’re emotionally capable of accepting,” Che said. “We want to piss off liberals too. I want to disappoint everybody, not just conservatives.”

What do you guys see your role as in democracy?

Colin: Class clown, probably.

Michael: Yeah, I think it’s just funny. It’s weird to get with so much news and so much coverage of politics and TV, that they’re still looking at comedians as the truth-tellers.

It’s all Jon Stewart’s fault.

Michael: It’s strange. You know what, you’re not wrong about that, either. It’s weird. It’s not really why I do comedy, you know. We always want to be funny. We want to be able to hit you from any angle and make fun of anybody. I feel like when people define your role, it’s easier to disappoint them, because they’re like, ‘Well, that’s, you’re not really on the right side,’ because you have to fit the consistency that they have already set for you, or the standards that they’ve already set for you, and I feel like with comedy, that should never be the case. You should never know where the ball is, to use a sports phrase. You should always be able to hide the ball.

Colin: Wow, you are a big sports fan.

Do you feel like there is anybody who is successfully managing to circumvent that without having to either face backlash or outrage from either side?

Michael: I think we do. I think we get written about for certain things that we’ve said, like making jokes about Hillary [Clinton]. I remember one time, we said in an interview, ‘Trump was smart.’ Before he won, it was like, ‘Well, you know he’s a smart guy,’ and people trashed us.

Colin: It was a whole headline, like, ‘They Think He’s Smart.’ How dare they?

Michael: They were so mad at us.

Colin: And first of all, we were saying both he and Hillary are clearly smart people, and the headline was, ‘Trump is Smart.’ He went to UPenn for college and is a billionaire. How many billionaires are idiots, you know? It’s tough.

Michael: I don’t know, maybe Floyd Mayweather? No, that’s a joke. Yeah, well I didn’t say [Trump] was the smartest, I just said he was — he’s smarter than me, that’s for sure.

If you got one gimme, one consequence-free opportunity to punch somebody out, who would it be?

Michael: That’s weird that she says it while LaVar Ball’s on TV. He’s just yelling at a lady.

Colin: Yelling at a lady for being out of shape, did you see that? Oh, my God.

Michael: I don’t know. Punching never gets you anywhere. I wouldn’t want to punch anybody like that, even LaVar Ball. Wedgie, yes. I would love to give him a wedgie. But he strikes me as the kind of guy that doesn’t wear any underwear.

Colin: You reach in, you’re like, ‘What?’ He looks back, like, ‘Yeah. Gotcha.’

Michael: Does that answer your question? LaVar Ball is pretty unlikable, but he’s getting the coverage, and people are entertained by him. I think people just need those outlets. You can yell at your TV at LaVar. It’s all entertainment. You kind of got to remember that and not take it too seriously.

Colin: Yeah, and if you’re a basketball player, you’re probably like, ‘What the hell is wrong with this? Why is he doing this?’ But then, if it helps basketball, and then you ultimately get paid more as a basketball player you’re probably going to —

Michael: Yeah, I mean when his son develops a rivalry with another player, and that adds a fold to the story and it makes people watch the game and it makes people excited. These kinds of characters is what makes rivalries important. That’s why I was telling people with sports teams, I think fans get that, because you see players and personalities that clash with … so like how mean were Boston fans to Derek Jeter, but when Derek Jeter left, everyone —

Colin: ‘He’s a good man.’ Welling up with tears.

Michael: Because he makes so many memories. You hated him, but you appreciate how fun he made the game, and how much fun it was to boo that guy. I think that’s also important too.

Colin: I was going to say I feel bad for his kids, but I don’t. I think they’re doing fine.

Michael: They’re great athletes, and you know what, even if they don’t make it, they’ve lived a great life. They’ve gotten a lot further than a lot of people, mostly because they look like they’re having fun. They seem to be enjoying it, and that’s cool, because at the end of the day, it is sports, and they could be digging ditches and tarring roofs.

Colin: That’s great, they enjoy it every time they’re on the court because there’s buffer from their dad.

Michael: You know they’re not going to get any fouls.

Colin: Think about that. That’s why they’re smiling on the court, they’re like, ‘We can’t hear him right now.’ That’s why they’re trying to get the crowd louder. They’re like, ‘Pump it up so that we can’t hear our dad yelling from the stands.’

Oh, no, you make them sound like the Jacksons.

Michael: Oh, I mean, yeah. I think Joe Jackson wears underwear though.

Colin: That’s the one difference.

A lot of comedians who predated social media complain about YouTube ruining the culture of stand-up.

Colin: I’m amazed people will write reviews of a show and quote every joke in it. I’m like, ‘Well, you just gave away all their material.’ You have to realize probably not so many are going to read that, but you just feel self-conscious as a comedian. If they quote your jokes, you’re like, ‘Oh, now I feel weird telling those jokes, because they’re already out there.’

Michael: Yeah, it kind of hurts the integrity of what you’re trying to do.

You guys grew up with the internet more than, say, someone like Chris Rock or Louis C.K.

Colin: Yeah, but when it’s on phones — you could record stuff when we were younger, or when we were starting out, but not everyone had a phone with a camera on it, so every single person in an audience has the ability to record your entire set.

Michael: There’s a company called Yondr. Do you ever use them?

Colin: Is that — they shut down phones?

Michael: They put a phone in a pouch, and they lock up your phone pretty much. [Dave] Chappelle does it. [Chris] Rock does it. Hannibal [Buress] does it. … I did it at Denver Comedy Works, and it’s amazing because your attention span, your sense of focus as an audience, is completely different. When the show starts, you’re looking at the stage. You’re not texting. You’re not trying to get a picture. You’re not trying to take a selfie. You’re not scrolling through Instagram one last time. The only thing going on is the stage, and the focus and the crowds are so much better and so much more attentive. It’s different. It’s night and day.

Did you work on your high school paper?

Colin: I did. I was the editor in chief of my high school newspaper, The Owl, no big deal. But then I worked at . . .

Michael: You’re right, that is no big deal.

Colin: . . . I worked at the Staten Island Advance, which is a newspaper on Staten Island. That was my first job.

How did you go from serious journalism to fake news?

Colin: I wrote, it’s so dumb, a humor column for my high school paper. You’ve got to start somewhere. And then for the real paper I worked at, I would just write things in my spare time, you know, Onion-style things at the time. I always wanted to do comedy. I just took a job because there was a job open, you know, like a journalism job. I’m shocked now, having … like it was a really good newspaper, even though it’s a small Staten Island newspaper. They have a really good staff and everything there, and I learned a lot about journalism while I was there, and when I see things now, like there’s so many factual errors in articles, and I’m like, ‘Where is any sense of integrity to it?’ That’s the strange thing to me. Certain things I get when people complain, like when politicians complain about the media and stuff, I see elements of it, because I’m like, yeah, when they get something wrong, or you just said something and then you’re misquoted or it’s changed or facts are wrong in the story and no one checked them. You’re like, you’re leaving yourself open to being criticized, you know?

The Daily Show built its brand on media criticism, and you guys have both spoken up about pointing out what we get wrong sometimes. Do you ever feel like that’s something you want to incorporate more into Weekend Update?

Michael: That’s sort of more of a Daily Show thing. We’re always kind of wary about doing what seems familiar, because as comedy fans, it’s a thing that we’ve seen.

And even at the show, we’re doing the job that Tina Fey did, and Amy Poehler, and Norm MacDonald, and Seth Meyers and all these people. They did it so well and at such a high level, and they’re so talented. We have to find a way to do that same thing and make it your own, you kind of don’t want to do the same thing as — it’s so easy to do what’s familiar because you’ve seen it done so well. You kind of just want to make it your own. So we started to make it a little bit more opinionated, a little bit more longer runs, a little bit more of the way that actual cable news is, as opposed to the way local news is, like how it started, where it was literally reading headlines. Now it’s a little bit more of a narrative.

Colin: It’s sometimes harder to get into some of the media stuff, because we don’t have so much time. Sometimes you have to get a little more in depth to explain, OK, this was the angle from that media source, and here’s why that’s wrong.

Michael: That’s why we’re really excited about doing these half-hour Updates, because we’ll have a little bit more time to kind of unravel that onion.

Karrueche Tran of ‘Claws’ talks independence, body image and thinking positive ‘It’s important to accept who you are’

Karrueche Tran, the 29-year-old Wilhelmina model-turned-actress, is more than just a pretty face. She has a hustler mentality that doesn’t get comfortable doing the same ol’ two-step. Tran’s early jobs, from a personal shopper at Nordstrom’s to studying graphic design in college to freelancing as a fashion assistant, illustrate the theme of her resume: “What’s next?”

Now starring alongside Niecy Nash in TNT’s comedy-drama Claws, Tran plays Virginia Loc, a stripper-turned-manicurist who is full of sass and immature attitude, which gets put in check time and time again.

But don’t let that description deter you. Yes, Virginia is unapologetic about getting that paper, but she’s a complex character with many layers that are peeled back for viewers to witness every Sunday night.

“I’m usually cast as the girl next door or girlfriend, but underneath the overly trendy Virginia, there’s an interesting backstory,” Tran said. “I saw so much potential playing Virginia. I was able to really craft her character as well as expand myself as an artist.”

Although known to many as singer Chris Brown’s ex-girlfriend, Tran has paved her own way. With any journey there are times when one can feel lost or face walls that need climbing. This has been the case for the Vietnamese/African-American actor.

“Like a rose, women are beautiful creations with strength that protects us like the thorns on a stem,” Tran wrote on Instagram to promote her most recent makeup collection, Fem Rosa, but it’s also a phrase that has meaning for how she goes about life.

At a workout session with her personal trainer Mario Guevara, the Los Angeles native talked about acting, overcoming insecurities, dealing with the pressures of Hollywood, and her favorite emoji.


How has it been working on Claws?

It’s the biggest production that I’ve been a part of, and I’m so excited that we’ve been renewed for a second season and I get to work with my girls [Nash, Jenn Lyon, Carrie Preston and Judy Reyes] again. I’ve been able to grow with my character and add what I know she would say or wouldn’t say.

How did you get into acting?

I was at a point of my life where I was like, ‘What’s next?’ My manager suggested that I try acting. I’m the kind of person who has to try it out first before making a decision to pursue it or not, so I tried it and I liked it. I felt something and continued at it. I got small roles here and there, and it finally got me to Claws.

What’s the meaning behind your favorite tattoos?

One of my favorite tattoos is [the one on my forearm that reads] ‘the past is practice.’ You can always learn from your past mistakes to help you move forward in life. But there is no explanation for my zipper tattoo [on the back of my leg]. It’s not zipping down my life or anything; I just wanted something down my leg and I thought it looked hot, ha!

Karrueche Tran attends the 2017 BET Awards at Microsoft Theater in Los Angeles on June 25.

Jason LaVeris/FilmMagic

Have you ever played sports?

I tried out for softball once, and that was a disaster! I never was the athletic type, which made me more interested in working out. I’ve always been thin, so exercising helped me build muscle and tone up since I wasn’t able to do that from playing a sport.

How has your trainer personalized your workouts?

I want to stay fit, but I also want to gain weight. Mario helps me find that medium between trying to get thick and still staying fit. He does that by helping me build muscle in a way that keeps me lean and toned.

What are your favorite cheat foods?

I love carbs like pasta and breads. I’m a foodie, so I really love everything. I’ve been into burgers lately, and when I was in Miami, I went to Soho [Beach] House. They have the best dirty burger. It’s so good!

When I was in New Orleans shooting Claws, I had stopped eating pork and red meat. I wanted to eat a little cleaner and be healthier, but then I was getting a little too thin. I have a small frame, so I don’t want to be too skinny. I still want muscles, so I need the carbohydrates to give me energy to lift weights.

How have you dealt with the pressures of Hollywood to look a certain way?

With a lot of my followers being young women, I try to be very positive and empowering. At times, I feel people don’t know how to be nice and genuine. I’m 29, and I can only imagine how insecure I may have been if Instagram was around when I was growing up. There are so many gorgeous women posting perfect-life pictures. Some are real [moments], but some aren’t. They play into the perception of perfection that’s not always reality. It’s important to accept who you are.

What insecurities have you had to overcome?

My body. Being so small and seeing so many curvy women out there, I had to really look at my worth and realize that I’m OK with how I look and who I am. Nobody is perfect, and we all have insecurities. I reminded myself not to get too consumed and stuck within my insecurity of looking a certain way. If you allow it to take over your mind, you’ll possess those negative vibes. When you have that negativity, it weighs you down and then spills everywhere in your life. It’s not easy with social media, but we can overcome it.

What’s your advice to people who want to give up?

There were times I felt lost and wanted to give up, even with acting, but there would be something inside me pushing me to continue. So many times we want to give up because it becomes too stressful. Life is not meant to be easy [all of the time]. We’re supposed to go through these ups and downs to find that light at the end of the tunnel.

What’s the last show you’ve binge-watched?

Star on Fox.

What’s the first concert you went to?

A Beyoncé concert when I was in high school. I think it was for her Crazy in Love album.

What’s your favorite emoji?

The middle finger and the rolling eye emojis.

If we opened your refrigerator, what would we find?

Sparkling water, a carton of eggs and orange juice. That’s seriously all I have in there right now, ha!

The season finale of Claws aired Sunday on TNT.

Animated short ‘Hair Love’ to show the bond between fathers and daughters Filmmaker Matthew Cherry wants to help ‘normalize’ black fathers

Matthew Cherry’s evolution has taken him from the football field to a stint as a production assistant to music videos. Now, his résumé includes a heartwarming short film in production called Hair Love.

Cherry said the idea for the film came from watching viral videos of fathers interacting with their daughters. In particular, he focused on ones that showed fathers combing their daughters’ hair, which can be both a chore and a bonding experience.

His five-minute animated film is about the relationship between an African-American father, Stephen, his daughter, Zuri, and her hair. Although Stephen has long locks, he is used to his wife doing his daughter’s hair. When she is unavailable right before a big event, Stephen has to figure it out and concludes that Zuri’s hair has a mind of its own.

Cherry said the “story was born out of seeing a lack of representation in mainstream animated projects, and also wanting to promote hair love amongst young men and women of color. It is our hope that this project will inspire.” He took to the crowdfunding site Kickstarter to fund the film. His initial goal was $75,000. To date he has raised almost $252,000, making Hair Love the best-funded short film in the history of Kickstarter.

Cherry, 35, is a former college wide receiver. In his four-year career at the University of Akron, he finished with nearly 2,000 receiving yards and 13 touchdowns. After college, he played for the Jacksonville Jaguars, Cincinnati Bengals, Carolina Panthers and the Baltimore Ravens. In 2007, he moved to Los Angeles to pursue a career in entertainment, landing work as a production assistant.

“I was just Matt the PA, and I was here to work,” Cherry said. “I was here to learn and work the game from the ground up, and that’s how I kind of got my foot in the door.”

He has worked on more than 40 commercials and was a director for more than 20 music videos for singers and entertainers such as Michelle Williams, Tweet, Jazmine Sullivan, Lalah Hathaway, Kindred The Family Soul, Snoop Dogg, The Foreign Exchange, Bilal, N’Dambi, Maysa Leak, Dwele, Najee, K’Jon and Take 6.

Cherry’s film The Last Fall received awards at the American Black Film Festival (ABFF) for Best Screenplay and Martha’s Vineyard African American Film Festival (MVAAFF) for the HBO Best Feature Film Award. After a limited theatrical release, it made its television premiere on BET in December 2012 and is currently streaming on Netflix and Hulu. He recently released a short film, Forward, which premiered on Ebony.com. He also writes and directs the award-winning web series Almost 30 and Almost Home.

Cherry has one sister (visual artist Caitlin Cherry) and grew up on the northwest side of Chicago.

“Sports was a big part of both of our lives growing up,” he said. “I played baseball ever since I was 5. Football ever since I was 6. Played three sports in high school. Had a full scholarship for football in college. … My existence was very much kind of tied into sports growing up.”

Cherry spoke with The Undefeated about his transition out of football, positive representation of black fathers in the media and normalizing black families.


What was your inspiration for Hair Love?

The biggest, and I think the most important, is just we’re seeing a big lack of representation in that computer-generated, animated world.

We really haven’t seen a lot black characters in that space. Bebe’s Kids was the first animated feature film directed by a black director. That came out in 1992; 25th anniversary was a couple of days ago. Peter Ramsey was the first African-American director to direct a CGI [computer-generated imagery] animated film. That was like two or three years ago, Rise of the Guardians. I think in between that time, there’s really only been those two black directors that have done like a full-length feature film in the animated space.

So we only really have had in recent years maybe four or five examples of full-length feature films that really tell our story. But a lot of times you don’t really see the whole, full family dynamic, particularly in these computer-generated feature films. The biggest thing for me is just like really seeing that lack of a presentation. … I don’t have kids myself right now, but got a serious girlfriend, and one day we’re going to get married and be having kids, and I really wanted to make sure that when I did have kids that they had a character that they could relate to.

When you look at mainstream media, and you see all the images, black hair isn’t made out to be the norm. It’s not meant to be the standard of beauty. We have a very Eurocentric standard of beauty in America, and if you watch TV, if you pick up a magazine, if you look at different things, you’re not going to see yourself represented. … You don’t see your curly, kinky hair on these different models, on these different actors and actresses, on these different music videos, etc. It can really do damage to your self-confidence and how you perceive yourself.

That’s why my biggest thing with this project, first and foremost, was just to really hopefully have some characters that were human, that showed black families in a complex but also simple manner, and just have characters that people can relate to but then try to help increase that diversity in the animation world, because representation is everything. I think my biggest thing is if a little girl can see Zuri or see Stephen, and see themselves represented, if it makes them feel better about themselves, to me, mission accomplished.

Who did you consult with about dads, daughters and hair?

I’ve actually had this idea for a couple years. I always thought it would be cute to do a story about a dad trying to do his daughter’s hair. I’ve seen a lot of kind of online videos, and my main dad friends who have kids, they’re always posting pictures and videos online of their failed attempts of trying to do their son’s and daughter’s hair, and just always thought that that would be a really cool angle to hit, particularly because the whole black father angle. I think, again, in mainstream media, we’re really nonexistent.

We look at a lot of these movies and TV shows, they always depict black dads as deadbeats, nonexistent, abusive. These fathers, they’re getting girls pregnant, running off, that whole thing, and while obviously in every race, every group, you have that negativity, but it’s always made out in the black community like that’s just all black men are. We just are deadbeat dads. We’re not in our kids’ lives.

So for me it was just really important to normalize black fathers, normalize black families. And really I think in starring a young black father and his daughter, I think that would just do wonders to kind of help normalize those images, because it’s important.

What’s been the most difficult part of moving from football to filmmaking?

The most difficult part of my journey is feeling like you have to constantly create your own opportunities. Like, to this day, nobody’s ever hired me for anything. All my opportunities have been self-generated in some fashion. Outside the music video world, from feature films to short films, it’s all been stuff that I either created with some friends or I created on my own, and sometimes it gets frustrating because you feel like, ‘I made this. This premiered at a major festival. Help me.’

Help me get to the next level. I did the work. I followed the blueprint. I did everything that they say you’re supposed to do in order to have somebody help you get to the next level. …

You make all these sacrifices like putting your mom’s life insurance money into the making of your first movie. It comes out, hey, you get a little bit of press, but nobody hires you. Damn. OK. You go away for a couple years. You do random things to kind of stay alive. Then my second feature film, 9 Rides. We shoot it on iPhones and that’s the thing that gets you noticed and gets you an agent and then you realize that all the work you and your team put in mattered after all.

They’ve seen us doing the short films for no budget. They’ve seen us doing the music videos. They’ve seen us doing these feature films and all this other stuff, so. I think the biggest, most difficult part of the journey has just been having to continuously create your own opportunities to kind of continue to put yourself in the game, and I think that there’s a lesson in that, in that you can’t predict what’s going to be the thing that hits, or is going to be the thing that helps put you on. You’ve just got to keep working, keep grinding, and eventually something’s going to hit, or eventually someone’s going to help.

Do you miss football?

Not at all. Not in the least. No, I don’t, especially with all this news about what’s been going on with players’ heads and CTE. I’m actually glad that I didn’t play too long. People have been playing since they were 5 years old, too. You know what I mean? Between Pop Warner, high school, college, you might have your five or 10 years in the league, but if you’re 25 you might have played for 20 years.

How did you prepare for your career after sports?

I studied radio, TV, broadcast and media production in college. I interned at a lot of radio stations, and I was the music director at my college radio station at the University of Akron. I interned up at the Cleveland radio stations, KISS and then on WENZ. And so I would always be kind of dabbling in production, but more of an audio-radio side, and it was something I was really interested in. I loved cutting promos, loved working with all these other kind of post-production programs, and I kind of knew even in college that whenever I got done playing ball I’d either be working in radio or some level of entertainment on the production side of things.

I signed as an undrafted free agent. My rookie year with the Jacksonville Jaguars, I knew after training camp, I was like, “Yeah. I’ve got to get my plan B together,” because it was just so political. When you come in as an undrafted free agent it’s like being a walk-on, so all these things have to happen that are outside of your control in order for you to make it. Guys will generally have to get hurt or traded and all these other things. It’s not really about how you perform, necessarily. It’s about, ‘OK, can you justify putting this guy in over the guy we’re paying millions of dollars?’

And I knew literally in training camp like, ‘Yeah. This is kind of unfair. I’m doing my thing, but I’m still not getting rewarded for it on the field.’ I actually got cut during training camp, and then they re-signed me to the practice squad. That’s how they do it, and I learned when I first got cut by just feeling there was nothing more I could have done. I felt like I balled out. I did everything that I should have done to be able to make the regular team, and it didn’t happen for me.

What’s up next after Hair Love?

This has all been a roller-coaster ride. The biggest thing for me is just really trying to just continue to do projects that are personal to me. Things that I really love. We hope to be able to use the characters from Hair Love and turn it into a feature film

This interview has been edited for clarity and length.

Student-athlete and Olympian Micha Powell’s guide to thriving in college A weekly series from the sprinter on how she balances sports, school and life

Hey, all, Micha Powell here. Welcome to my video diary! I’m a recent University of Maryland graduate with a B.A. in broadcast journalism, three-time NCAA All-American and 2016 Canadian Olympian.

I have both my parents to thank for my athletic genes. My father is Mike Powell, UCLA alum and the long jump world-record holder, and my mother is the 400m hurdles Canadian record holder. I guess it’s kind of fitting that I’d end up a student-athlete in the States with roots in Canada.

If you’ve wondered what it takes to be a track and field student-athlete and compete at the international level, look no further. With this weekly video diary, you can follow my journey from training as a student-athlete at UMD to representing Canada at the World University Games in Taipei at the end of August. With my degree in broadcast journalism, I will use my reporting and editing skills to produce an in-depth look at the high-performance world of a 400m sprinter.


Week 1

I have never been afraid of a challenge. I switched sports my senior year in high school, going from hitting serves on green tennis courts to racing around a red rubberized track. I decided to embrace my parents’ Olympic genes and put them to good use in the 400 meters. After receiving a track and field scholarship to the University of Maryland, I then moved away from my family in Canada in pursuit of a higher education and with the hopes of leaving behind a legacy.

Looking back on my four years in college, I had to adapt to many changes, including attending two-hour classes right after running up hills at 5 in the morning, all the while maintaining a balanced social life and remembering to take a deep breath once in a while. The adjustment from living with my mom in a quiet apartment to moving in with five other college roommates was drastic, but I was able to embrace my new surroundings by developing these three key habits:

Time management

I enrolled in the Philip Merrill College of Journalism at the University of Maryland knowing that I was going to have to learn to work on deadline and take most of my assignments on the road with me when I traveled to track meets. The fast-paced nature of the program forced me to plan ahead and communicate with my professors. If I had a track meet that coming weekend, I knew I had to finish an assignment by Thursday to avoid any additional stress. I also made sure to add some downtime with my friends and go to D.C. for some sightseeing or just stay in and watch some of our favorite Netflix shows.

Sleep takes priority

I aim to get anywhere between seven and nine hours of sleep every night. If I can be in bed before midnight, I know that I’ll wake up the next morning motivated, rejuvenated and less stressed. However, I’m not perfect. During finals week, I had my fair share of “almost” all-nighters that left my mind drained. The best way for me to get a consistent amount of sleep is to keep a routine. As long as I continue to practice self-discipline, I’ll keep a healthy sleep habit that accelerates my muscle recovery and improves my mental health.

Nutrition & home cooking

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Nutrition is an essential part of my preparation not only for executing a great race but also for my overall well-being. Whenever someone asks me if I follow a strict diet, I explain that I don’t have to but I naturally gravitate toward leafy greens and lean proteins because it is simply what my body craves. I see eating healthy as the most beneficial way to reward my body for all of the hard work it does in one day. By eating fruits, vegetables, complex carbohydrates and protein, I train my body to expect nutrient-rich foods after a hard workout, which encourages it to recover at a faster rate and readies it to go through the entire cycle again.

Before practice and post-workouts, you can be sure to find me in my kitchen cooking up everything from spinach and turkey bacon-filled omelets to curried tilapia with steamed zucchini spirals. I always make sure my fridge is filled with whole foods and my spice cabinet stocked with seasoning. I’m known on my track team to always have a different meal on my Snapchat and often get messages that read “Pleassee send me the recipe!” or “You should write a cookbook!” Maybe I’ll consider it now that I’ve graduated and have a little bit more free time on my hands. Cooking is not a chore for me but rather a habit that guarantees my body will get enough nutrients for the week, and it also brings familiarity and the comfort of home back into my life.

My grandmother is originally from Nigeria, and I remember growing up in her house, back in Montreal, smelling the peppery air and immediately recognizing the thyme and cayenne fragrance that was brewing in one of her traditional and tasty Nigerian dishes. Although I can’t make as good an okra soup as my grandmother does, I consider myself fortunate enough to have inherited her cooking skills, which have helped me prepare the majority of my meals that fuel me for the day.

Not including Tiger Woods on a list of the 50 Greatest Black Athletes is beyond an oversight — it’s an injustice Tiger, even more than being one of the most accomplished and decorated athletes who ever lived, is the greatest lightning rod sports has seen since a young Ali

Let’s get something straight: Any ranking of the greatest black athletes ever that doesn’t include Tiger Woods is not something I can get behind. This list, the result of public responses to surveys conducted by SurveyMonkey for The Undefeated, could be called “50 Great Athletes People Admire Most” or “Americans’ 50 Favorite Black Athletes.” But it ain’t a credible list of the greatest if it doesn’t include Tiger.

You can dislike Tiger and you can dislike golf, but if you fail to acknowledge his competitive brilliance, his dominance of the oldest sport on the planet, his impact culturally, athletically and economically, then you should recuse yourself from weighing in on an effort to rank the greatest black athletes. There’s no responsible definition of “great” in the context of sports that Tiger Woods doesn’t fit. Any conversation that isn’t driven by personal agenda couldn’t put him any lower than 10th.

Dumping on Tiger became a sport sometime around Thanksgiving 2009, and it hasn’t let up. Surely, some of the folks surveyed hold it against him because of his salacious infidelities, others because he called himself “Cablinasian” or whatever that was 20 years ago, others because he married a white woman, others because his body broke down and he couldn’t catch Jack Nicklaus, others because he didn’t play football or baseball but made more money than anybody who ever played either. Tiger, even more than being one of the most accomplished and decorated athletes who has ever lived, is the greatest lightning rod sports has seen since a young Ali.

But none of that speaks to the criteria. Eldrick Woods is (or was) otherworldly great, and he’s black (or as black as some other people on that list). If it’s easier for people to list, when asked, Gabby Douglas or Simone Biles, go right ahead. They’re great and black AND admirable, and there’s not one reason to object to either. But if you think either — or the great Herschel Walker, for that matter — has had 1/100th the impact of Tiger Woods the golfer, then you’re delusional.

I have five personal heroes who made the list, four of them childhood idols (Gale Sayers, Ernie Banks, Arthur Ashe and Walter Payton) and one who is to this very day one of my adult heroes, a man whose career I covered and whose life is exemplary (David Robinson). But I wouldn’t try to make the case that any one of those five was the best ever in the sport he played (well, maybe Payton) or created the drama week after week after week for more than a decade that Tiger did … or dramatically altered his sport the way Tiger did, or redefined what a participant in that sport can look like the way Tiger did.

I’d like to say that his résumé needs no review, but clearly (and sadly) from the results of this flawed exercise, it does. At age 20 he became the first man to win three consecutive U.S. amateur titles. Without having played a single tournament as a professional, he signed the most lucrative endorsement contracts in golf history (and if you think Nike pays hundreds of millions to nonathletes, go ahead and keep deluding yourself). He was the youngest to win the Masters, the fastest ever to ascend to No. 1 in the World Golf Rankings and, at 24, the youngest to win the career Grand Slam. You know how many people have twice been named Sports Illustrated’s Sportsman of the Year? One. Tiger Woods. Not Jordan, not Ali — Tiger freakin’ Woods.

He held down the No. 1 ranking for 281 consecutive weeks, which is to say five-plus years. The Associated Press named him Male Athlete of the Year a record four times. Not Tom Brady, Tiger Woods. Golf, whether we’re talking prize money, TV ratings or weekend hacker participation, shot to the heavens when Tiger came aboard, and they’re sinking like a stone now that he’s gone. Nike, in the context of golf, was a startup company, and Tiger made it the worldwide leader in golf apparel. When he limped out of contention, Nike waved bye-bye to the business of making clubs and balls. Buick was so convinced that Tiger’s association with its cars spiked their sales, the company signed him to a $40 million endorsement deal.

You want to define Tiger Woods by competitive impact: Only Sarazen, Hogan, Player and Nicklaus have all won the four major championships that constitute the Grand Slam. And only Tiger has won all four consecutively.

You want to define Tiger by economic impact: Forbes says only Oprah Winfrey, among people of color, is richer. Golf Digest reported he made nearly $770 million and will soon pass $1 billion. You want cultural impact? Every time he tees it up, even the people who were too dumb to appreciate him from 1996 to 2007 are now begging for a comeback because they realize, as every business in the golf industry does, that Rory and Jordan and DJ and all the young guys put together can’t add up to half of Tiger Woods. He’s still the world’s most recognizable golfer, the world’s richest and most celebrated golfer. Bo Jackson, who made the list, spends most every day of every week of his second life trying to be like Tiger.

And while it’s difficult at best for most folks to muster up any admiration for Tiger these days, what the folks who participated in the survey collectively also fail to acknowledge is that Tiger conquered a sport that directed a whole lot of hostility his way. He wasn’t Jackie Robinson, but it wasn’t like he was walking into an NBA arena every night, especially his first two or three years on tour.

In the context of how we measure athletes, there’s no category in which Tiger Woods comes up short. He’s either the second greatest person to ever compete in his sport (to Nicklaus) or No. 1. The other people who qualify for that discussion in their respective sports (Jim Brown, Jordan, Magic, Bill Russell, Ali, Joe Louis, Serena Williams, Jackie Joyner-Kersee, Carl Lewis, Usain Bolt, LeBron) are all included.

Woods being left off is a glaring omission, one that undermines the intelligence and wisdom of thousands and thousands of survey respondents. Kobe Bryant being left off is a head-shaker — so is Mike Tyson — and Jack Johnson is nearly as egregious an error as Woods. The international search to find somebody to beat Johnson is the origin of the phrase “great white hope.” His July 4, 1910, victory over Jim Jeffries in the “Fight of the Century” ignited race riots in more than a dozen cities. No black (or white) athlete since has had that kind of cultural impact nationally. You can’t make the argument that Joe Frazier is greater than Jack Johnson. But I’m willing to believe you have to be nearly 60 years old to have any idea of how important Johnson was not just to blacks and athletes but to the United States early in the 20th century.

You can’t even tell the story of the black athlete in America without serious examination of Johnson. And you can’t carry the discussion into the 21st century, no matter how young you are, without including the incomparable achievements of a black man who, like Johnson, was a first: Tiger Woods.

What if it wasn’t all a Dream (Team)? Five 1992 Olympic what-if scenarios — 25 years later Dominique Wilkins’ injury, Jordan sticking to his word and Shaq over Laettner. What if?

Want to feel nostalgic? Great. Better yet, want to feel old? Twenty-five years ago today, the 1992 U.S. men’s basketball team won Olympic gold. Canonized as “The Dream Team,” the squad curb-stomped an entire world of competition, and its international impact is eternal.

The Dream Team opened the NBA’s door into China — and the world’s love affair with the game of basketball. Their Olympic tuneups weren’t as much games as they were red carpet ceremonies as they laughed, galloped and, in Toni Kukoc’s case, smothered the life out of opponents, beating them by 44.3 points per game — second only to the 53.2-point margin of the 1956 squad anchored by Bill Russell. The Dream Team’s song is one to which the entire world knows the lyrics — thanks to the documentaries, features and books in the quarter-century since their summer excursion. But even a crew with some of the game’s most iconic names — Michael Jordan, Magic Johnson and Larry Bird — isn’t immune to the “what if” game. It makes for a psychedelic voyage into a parallel universe.

What if Team USA had taken gold in the 1988 Olympics in Seoul, South Korea?

This is, by far, the most important question involving The Dream Team. America winning bronze in the ’88 Games was a watershed moment. The Soviet Union defeated the United States 82-76 in the semifinals (there’s a Russia/America-beating-us-at-our-own-game joke that will not be told right now). Up until 1988, only collegiate players were allowed in Olympic play. That talk soon shifted. “Personally, I would like more of a chance to compete,” Team USA and then-Georgetown head coach John Thompson said. “I’m also an advocate of professionals playing in the Olympics.”

Not everyone was for the change. Bill Wall, executive director of the United States Amateur Basketball Association, touched on philosophical issues: “Do you want to watch the best players beat everyone else?” It turns out the answer was a resounding yes. In Munich, on April 7, 1989, FIBA voted 56-13 to allow pro players to participate.

Many, like Boris Stankovic, FIBA’s secretary general, saw it as Olympic basketball’s “triumphant entry into the 21st century.” Stankovic was a chief proponent of allowing NBA players access, as they were the only professionals barred worldwide. One of its most vocal critics, however, turned out to be the United States Amateur Basketball Association, which took the stance that pro players’ involvement eliminated its opportunity to participate.

So, did America’s bronze medal showing in the ’88 Games lead directly to the introduction of NBA players? Perhaps not 100 percent, but it undeniably aided a process already in motion. Put it this way: If anything defines Big Sean’s Last night I took an L, but tonight I bounce back, it’s Team USA basketball 1988-92. It’s also fair to say that if America had won gold in 1988, the push for NBA stars may never have happened.

NBA players in the Olympics are the norm these days, but in the immediate aftermath of the decision, the desire to play was slightly better than 50-50. Superstars such as Isiah Thomas, Magic Johnson and Karl Malone didn’t hide their excitement. “[I’d] go in a heartbeat and pay my own ticket,” Malone said. But a 1989 poll revealed only 58 percent of NBA players would play if afforded the opportunity. The biggest one to say no? Jordan. Which brings us to the next point …

What if Michael Jordan had stuck to his word and not played in the 1992 Olympics?

Let’s get the elephant out of the room. The Isiah Thomas/Jordan factor was a real issue — a beef with origins in the 1985 All-Star Game, known in hoops circles as the “freeze-out game.” How do we know Jordan didn’t want anything to do with Thomas as a teammate? He said it himself. “That was one of the stipulations put to me [on the team] — that Isiah wasn’t part of the team,” he said in a 2012 Dream Team documentary. The Thomas exclusion remains a thrilling subplot of ’90s basketball because of how the selection committee did whatever it had to do to get Jordan while sacrificing Thomas.

The Detroit Pistons’ floor general wasn’t one of the first 10 players selected. The Olympic selection committee began choosing players shortly after the 1991 playoffs ended. It was in those same playoffs that the Pistons, swept by Jordan and the Chicago Bulls in the Eastern Conference finals, infamously walked off the court before time expired in Game 4. Thomas was seen as the linchpin in one of the most infamous examples of pettiness in sports history. But even with Thomas on the outside looking in, Jordan still wasn’t a lock. Peep the timeline:

April 1989 Jordan says he’s not interested in playing in the Olympics again (he won gold in 1984). The thought of giving up another summer didn’t appeal to him.

May 1991 In one of the more revealing yet often forgotten interviews of his career, the ’91 MVP once again states his hesitation to Pat Riley. The season was long enough, and adding the Olympics would only shorten recovery time. But he doesn’t slam the casket shut either. “The only reason that I would wanna go is,” he says, only semi-joking, “if we feel that we certainly can’t win with the team we put out there.”

“Do you want to watch the best players beat everyone else?” It turns out the answer was a resounding yes.

July 30, 1991 — Agent David Falk denies that both of his clients, Jordan and Patrick Ewing, are undecided about what to do the next summer.

Aug. 1, 1991 — Playing in his first competitive golf tournament at the Western Amateur in Benton Harbor, Michigan, Jordan seemingly deadens any hope of Olympic dreams. “There are a lot of professionals who want to play and, being that there are a lot of professionals that haven’t played — and I’ve played — I don’t mind giving the other guys an opportunity,” he says. “Right now it’s a closed door for me.” For the golf aficionados wondering, he shot an 85 that day.

Aug. 10, 1991 — “I’m working on him,” Magic Johnson says. “I even told him I’d give him a million dollars if he’d do it. But so far he hasn’t changed his mind.”

Aug. 25, 1991 — Few remember the attacks on Jordan’s patriotism because of his reluctance to play in the Olympics. Three weeks after his statement about sitting out, Jordan reconsiders, promising to make the decision in a few days but saying it would be his and his alone. “Not one forced on me by what somebody else says or wants,” he said.

Sept. 4, 1991 — Thomas says if he’s not invited to the ’92 Games later that month he will not blame Jordan. “While I cannot speak for Michael,” Thomas says, “I can say that such a feud does not exist.”

Sept. 24, 1991 — The selection committee releases the names of 10 players invited to form the 1992 Olympic men’s basketball team: Charles Barkley, Larry Bird, Ewing, Johnson, Malone, Chris Mullin, Scottie Pippen, David Robinson, John Stockton and, yes, Jordan. Jack McCloskey resigned from the selection committee over Thomas’ snub, calling the omission “ridiculous.” As for Jordan’s response? “If I had anything to do with the selection, I would’ve selected my mother and my sister. I didn’t have anything to do with it.” Riiiight.

March 18, 1992 — By now, Jordan is openly stating he wants to play. But not until the money ceases looking funny. Jordan’s camp was unhappy about marketing rights — in particular, the official Olympic T-shirt that bore semblances of all team members. He had no issue with USA Basketball, a nonprofit organization, making money. He did, however, have beef with the NBA making coin. It was a subtle but undeniable example of what The New York Times at the time called a “deteriorating relationship with the NBA over the issue.” Jordan was adamant that money wasn’t the motivation for holding out. However, “This is a business,” he says. “This is what happens when you let professional players in.”

March 20, 1992 — Turns out that headache lasts only 48 hours. Jordan’s agent, David Falk, confirms that a compromise will be reached, and Jordan will be in Barcelona, Spain, that summer. USA Basketball had secured the face it so desperately coveted. Without Jordan, Team USA likely still wins gold. But it begs the question, is the NBA the global international force it is now if Jordan stayed stateside in the summer of 1992?

What if Shaquille O’Neal had been chosen over Christian Laettner as the Dream Team’s college player?

Love him or hate him — and many did both — Laettner’s star power was undeniable heading into the Summer Games. His resume at Duke was drunk with achievement: back-to-back national championships in ’91 and ’92, a three-time All-American, Final Four MVP and National Player of the Year in ’92. Combine all that with one of the most iconic plays in college basketball history, and Laettner’s stock was sky-high. Surrounded by elite talent that trumped his, it’s beyond understandable why he barely got much tick in the ’92 Games. That said, if you ever want to win a bar bet, ask who averaged the fewest points on the Dream Team. Chances are most will say Laettner (4.8), who went on to have a solid NBA career, averaging 12.8 points and 6.7 rebounds over 13 seasons. The correct answer, though, is Stockton (2.8), as the future Hall of Famer missed the first four games with a broken leg.

“I’m working on him,” Magic Johnson said. “I even told him I’d give him a million dollars if he’d do it.”

But let’s keep it a buck. This is Shaq we’re talking about. In 1992, the feeling was post-up centers would have difficulties in the trapezoid-shaped lane of the international game. Hindsight is 20/20, but it’s violent to envision what a 20-year-old O’Neal would have done to the likes of Angola or Germany. Seriously, picture this: Johnson leading the break, with Jordan and Pippen on the wings and a young, nimble 20-year-old O’Neal as the trailer:

It’s fun to imagine young O’Neal running fast breaks in Barcelona, because we already know how destructively poetic young O’Neal was running fast breaks in Orlando with Penny Hardaway. O’Neal would later receive his own gold medal at the ’96 Olympics in Atlanta, but the four-time NBA champion didn’t like his ’92 omission. “I was pissed off. I was jealous,” O’Neal said in 2012. “But then I had to come to the realization that I was a more explosive, more powerful player. Laettner was a little bit more fundamentally sound than I was.”

What if Dominique Wilkins never ruptured his Achilles?

The Original ATLien was one of the more entertaining and beloved players in the ’80s and into the ’90s. His 47 points in Game 7 in Boston Garden vs. Larry Bird and the Celtics in 1988 remains one of the all-time great playoff performances (despite being in a loss). He won two dunk contests, in 1985 and 1990. Even Jordan admits Wilkins was robbed in 1988 when he lost in Chicago. “I probably would’ve given it to [Dominique],” Jordan said years later. “But being that it was on my turf, it wasn’t meant to be.”

Wilkins is also one of five non-centers in NBA history to average at least 26 points for a decade — the other four being Jerry West, Jordan, Allen Iverson and LeBron James. In layman’s terms, Wilkins was that deal. The issue with Wilkins’ legacy, however, is what plagues Chris Paul today — his teams never advanced past the second round. But by the start of 1992, there seemed to be momentum building for Wilkins to become the 11th professional player to be added to the Dream Team. Unfortunately, Wilkins ruptured his Achilles tendon against the Philadelphia 76ers in January 1992, ending his season and whatever shot he had at making the Olympic squad. At the time of his injury, he was putting up 28.1 points per night.

How the story played out: Portland’s Clyde Drexler was announced as the final NBA player to make the squad in May 1992. Wilkins eventually played on the second iteration of the Dream Team two years later, a dominant squad in its own right. But we’re all left to wonder how differently Wilkins’ Hall of Fame career might have been remembered. What an acrobatic light show the fast break of Johnson, Jordan and “The Human Highlight Reel” would’ve produced in Barcelona! It’s the second time we missed out on a Magic and Dominique tag team — the Los Angeles Lakers had the chance to select Wilkins No. 1 overall in the 1982 draft, opting instead for James Worthy (a selection that worked out extremely well for the Lakers in the ’80s).

What if Magic Johnson had been unable to play?

For context, only 263 days had passed between Johnson’s announcement that he had HIV (Nov. 7, 1991) and Team USA’s first Olympic game (July 26, 1992). In the immediate aftermath of his announcement, America began to emotionally distance itself from Johnson. Advertisers and marketing agencies ceased using him in their campaigns. How sick was he? Would he wither away in front of our eyes? And should he even be allowed to play basketball? The debate became one of the most polarizing of its day.

“If Magic Johnson is prohibited from participating in the Olympics,” a New York Times response to the editor ran in February 1992, “then the accepted risk factor for all sports should be re-evaluated.”

“Americans have always regarded our Olympic athletes as role models for our boys and girls, which Magic is not,” another stated. “Let him use his energies and money setting up a trust fund of a few million dollars to pay the medical bills of the women he may have infected.”

On Feb. 3, 1992, the International Olympic Committee (IOC) ruled that athletes with HIV were eligible to participate. Later that same week, Johnson not only participated in the NBA All-Star Game in Orlando, Florida, but he also took home MVP honors with 25 points, nine assists and a spine-tingling 3-pointer that has since transcended sports. Johnson, of course, went on to become one of the faces of The Dream Team and a beloved executive, broadcaster and ambassador of the league.

But what if history were different, and the IOC had ruled differently? Not only would that have been tragically inhumane, but athletes with HIV being ruled ineligible means no Magic Johnson. No Magic Johnson means no Larry Bird and no Michael Jordan. No Magic Johnson, Larry Bird and Michael Jordan means no Dream Team. One decision quite literally changed the world.

Troy Mullins is long drive golf champion but she’s striving for the LPGA The golfer says she plays at a different level: ‘I hit the ball like a guy’

She’s a champion in a sport where strength and agility is praised, not questioned. Not that it’s a cakewalk as a woman of color at the top of her game, but she plays through it and comes out successful.

It is the women’s World Long Drive Competition, a showcase for women who can hit a golf ball out of sight. Founded in 2000, it’s a fun, trash-talking sport where women gifted with a hard-core golf swing are recognized apart from the more subdued game of the LPGA.

And she is Troy Mullins, who at 25 has mastered it. In late July, she won the 2017 World Long Drive Mile High Showdown, although she’s only been playing golf since she was 21. Her winning drive was 374 yards, and her ultimate goal is to play on the LPGA Tour. A 4 handicap, Mullins had qualified for the 2012 U.S. Mid-Amateur even before the long drive competition.

The 5-foot-8 golfer, known by some as the “Trojan Goddess,” placed second in her first competition, the RE/MAX World Long Drive Championship in 2012 with a drive of 321 yards using a regular-length driver. In 2016, she took sixth place at the Golf Channel World Long Drive Championship. Mullins’ win included a $7,000 purse, her trophy and bragging rights.

“I’m still shocked. I can’t believe it,” Mullins said in an interview. “I kept my head down [on that last ball], and I didn’t even know if it made it in the grid. I’m really proud of myself. … I’m doing this on my own, not sponsored. I come here with my two clubs and I’m doing it. And I think this is a great way to get people into the sport. This is how I got into golf, just coming out and having fun. I hope to stay in it for a long time.”

Mullins is a Cornell University grad who majored in China-Asia Pacific studies and international relations. She visited the driving range just for fun with a family friend who got her involved in the sport.

“He would just take me to this driving range, and I would love hitting balls,” Mullins said.

After college, she stopped running track and returned home to Los Angeles with a plan to become a U.S. ambassador to China, but she wasn’t quite sure whether law school was really what she wanted her next step to be.

“I kind of was just here deciding and fell into golf,” Mullins said. “Enough people said, ‘You know what? Your swing is that good, you could make it on tour.’ ”

She started her own business homeschooling and tutoring to support her golf dreams. According to her website, Mullins was a member of the Cornell women’s track and field team as a heptathlete. She followed in the footsteps of her father, Billy Mullins, who was a world-class sprinter.

Being a woman of color in the game of golf has presented some challenges that have driven her to conquer the sport she loves.

“Especially in this sport, where it’s not very integrated yet, we’re trying,” Mullins explained. “But I’ve heard of a lot of stories of other-race women getting sponsorships, and they’re not better than me. We can get the same scores, but there’s something there. And I haven’t quite figured out what that is. It seems like as a woman of color I’m only getting recognition now because I’ve won. And it’s tough. It’s hard. And then on top of that, going to country clubs, I’m usually the only African-American woman or African-American in general. I just met another African-American golfer, and she lives in New York and I’m not sure how her experience is there. You don’t meet many of us. It makes it tough. It’s different.”

Mullins rises at 5 a.m. and starts her day with exercise, either yoga or Pilates. She also does spinning. By midmorning, she’s playing golf or at a driving range. In the afternoon, she’s tutoring and homeschooling. Right now she has about 15 students, but during the school year, her client load may double. Balance is sometimes hard, but she’s gotten into a routine that works.

“It’s hard,” Mullins said. “Basically, I don’t have a social life. I work on the weekends. I wake up early and I go to bed early, and especially now if I’m going to be playing more tournaments. It’s really tough because golfing takes about five to six hours a day, not including any practice. That’s just play. It’s tough creating a schedule, especially balancing a schedule with students. It’s not as rigid as I wish it was.”

Mullins spoke with The Undefeated about her journey in life, golf and her future.

What’s been your inspiration for everything that you do?

I’ve been supporting my own sport and doing my own thing for a while and starting my own business and tutoring people. Now, it’s kind of about inspiring others. I have young siblings. It’s great to see how my students respond to my different achievements. They’re also motivated themselves. I tutor a girl that’s also a golfer. Now she calls me and she’s excited about golf. And it’s great to see that I can inspire others to do this as well. It’s not just for me anymore.

And then also for myself. I’m inspired by so many athletes. I’m inspired by Tiger Woods. As a kid I was inspired by Marion Jones and even Serena and Venus [Williams]. Black athletes and having to be the best in their sport just to be recognized, just to be out there. There’s something about us having to be No. 1 to be put in the spotlight, that we can’t be too mediocre. I’m working really hard to do my best in this sport. It’s tough.

How was your experience as a college athlete at Cornell?

Mostly, different. I wanted to try something new. I didn’t realize when I went to visit how small the town was. But it was very small. Much smaller than I thought when I went to tour it. But it was a good experience. I got to experience a lot of snow. My major was great because we spent a semester in Washington, D.C., and then we also spent a little more than a semester in Beijing at the Peking University. I spent a lot of time away from Cornell, which was so cool. Even with the track team, we traveled every weekend to different cities and different colleges. I had a great time there.

How was your life growing up?

My mother’s side was always more academic. I went to Marlborough’s all-girls high school. It was really important that I got a great education. Growing up, I was a child actress. I actually stopped as a kid because they wanted me to quit my high school. My family was like, ‘Yeah, no, that’s not happening.’ I got out of acting. It was really important that I go to college. I was an all-around athlete. I enjoyed doing a lot of sports. I loved volleyball. I was even an OK swimmer and tennis player. But track and volleyball were my two main sports going into high school, which was really tough too. They made me choose which sport to focus on. I was always a great runner. My heart wasn’t in it as much as volleyball, but when I found out I was going to be like 5-10, it made it an easy decision. I focused on track, getting good grades and getting into a good school.

How do you handle the competition mentally and emotionally?

I think that’s the biggest struggle for me, to be honest. I think I’ve been given the talent and skill pretty easily. I didn’t really struggle in golf. Coming into the sport late has always been a little bit of trying to build my confidence because I’m competing against girls that have been, one, playing their whole life. Played in college. Played on their high school teams. Not knowing, even learning a lot of the rules and the etiquette in the beginning, I was a little bit self-conscious, so it made it hard to compete with them.

And then on top of that, because I play at a different level, meaning I hit the ball like a guy, that’s also a little interesting. You don’t make a lot of women friends when you hit it past them like 100 yards. I’ve even struggled with playing being myself, being able to be OK with being the longest girl out there. Yeah, I was even reminded of that this weekend. I feel like in golf, I’m always a little bit out of my element. Not only being African-American, but when you play tournament golf, the girls are a little bit smaller or skinnier or blonder. And it’s a different type of tournament than the long drive. The long drive, the women are bigger than me.

What’s the best piece of advice that you’ve ever received?

Probably from one of my golf buddies. I think he said that I have to be comfortable being uncomfortable. I’ve grown up pretty privileged, and I’ve never really had to struggle. And the paths that I’ve chosen as an athlete, now I have to make decisions where I’m going to feel uncomfortable. Having to take on less students to be able to do more tournaments. Whereas before, I’m living pretty comfortably in L.A., which is expensive, so I’ve got to work hard. But there’s that balance. Now, I have to make the choice, do I go after the dream and be a little bit uncomfortable or stay in my lane and work, which is what I’m used to. Even in other terms, putting myself into tournaments and even playing in the long drive. There were times when I was going to pull out of the long drives because I was so nervous about not being ready, not being strong enough. But I think that was really wise to say to me, because I’m not someone that likes risk. Still learning how to put myself out there and be uncomfortable, but getting it done kind of thing.

What do you look forward to most in the future?

I like accomplishing goals. I’ve always been a list person. Checking off things on my list is great. But future goals, honestly, I just want to have a really big family. That’s kind of really what I want. I’d love to be on tour, obviously. And I’d love to set records as an African-American woman. I’d like to inspire others, other black girls, black boys, to get out there and do this sport and to get involved. And I’d like it to be more integrated and less exclusive. Less expensive too.

What do you suggest young black and brown girls and boys do from the financial aspect of it?

I’m still working on that aspect too. When I first graduated, while I was tutoring I also worked at different golf courses. That allows you at least free play, free balls, free practice. Getting involved in the golf business is definitely a way to make it less expensive. I just feel like that the issue is the more we get involved, the more color that we see on tour, maybe golf will get less expensive because more people will be playing. But I think right now, the golf industry’s dying because Tiger’s not in it. We have a lot of great tour players. Jordan Spieth is great and, of course, like Dustin Johnson. But it’s not bringing people like it did with Tiger. Until more people join, it’ll still be the expensive sport that it is.

What’s up next for you?

The tournament’s on the 5th and the 6th of September, the Volvik World Long Drive Championship — WinStar World Casino, Thackerville, Oklahoma. Hopefully I’ll win. Goalwise is doing my best, doing better. … It’s hard to do better than last time because we were at elevation, and elevation has a little bit to do with how far the balls go. I proved a lot to myself the last time I played. My No. 1 goal was to make top eight, and then I did it. So then my next goal was to make top four. This time I’m going to set out to do the same thing. I don’t put my expectations too high. That’s always been me. I like to just be reasonable. So reasonable to me is to make top eight. And if I do that, top four. If I do that, top two. And if I win, then awesome.

Tanya Muzinda inspires the children of Zimbabwe to Thrive Beyond Illness How an 11-year-old motocross prodigy became the face of a children’s hospital

Keith M. Phiri/Saint Productions

In a baby-blue, navy and white AXO racing kit, courtesy of the European Union, a girl, 11, poses on her motorbike. It’s December 2015, and she’s ready to race. The poster girl for motocross in Zimbabwe, and a beacon of hope for her entire country, she’s living proof to young people that they can, with proper care, thrive beyond illness.

The rider’s name: Tanya Muzinda. Her racing number: 61. The hashtag #TeamTanya is stamped on the front license plate of her racing bike, which is sponsored by Armored Graphix. The custom bike graphics company’s stickers cover almost every inch of the bike. Motocross is a timed motorcycle race over a closed winding dirt/mud trail with hills, jumps, and turns. When Tanya was 5, a friend of her father’s invited the family to Harare’s Donnybrook Raceway. Tanya’s father allowed her to try motocross, and Tanya, who already raced go-carts, instantly fell in love. She placed second in her first competition, and became the first Zimbabwean girl to win a local motocross championship. Since then, Tanya, who hails from Harare, has traveled the world to compete.

She had been working with a bike borrowed from that family friend, but the burnt orange 65 cc motorbike in the poster was a gift to Tanya, now 12, from the European Union Delegation of Zimbabwe. It was sent as a goodwill gesture, as Tanya had been selected by the United Nations as honorary ambassador for gender, youth and sport that August. Motocross is growing in popularity in Zimbabwe, where the most popular sports are soccer and croquet, and it was that honor, along with her fierce motocross abilities, that led to her appearance on the poster.


The Children’s Hospital in Zimbabwe’s capital, Harare, is filled beyond capacity. One of four facilities belonging to Harare’s Central Hospital, it’s the only pediatric hospital in Zimbabwe.

The Children’s Hospital treats kids who have been mauled or have HIV/AIDS, those who are malnourished, and those suffering from pneumonia or waterborne illnesses such as cholera and typhoid fever, along with other ailments. HIV is particularly prevalent, with nearly 15 percent of the country’s population infected, according to data from AVERT, an epidemic that has created nearly 1 million orphans. Surgeries, and even some common treatments, are difficult to perform amid the overcrowding and uncertainty. In 2008, the hospital was forced to close for two years when record-setting hyperinflation hit Zimbabwe. Some say there are issues dating to the country’s independence British colonization in 1980 that have hampered the hospital’s chances of prospering.

“I want to show people you can’t spend the rest of your life being scared. I think I will inspire girls from all over the world.”

When Zimbabwe native and social entrepreneur Phillipa Sibanda returned to her homeland in 2014, she knew she had to do something. After 12 years as a respiratory care practitioner with Kaiser Permanente in the U.S., Sibanda believed she was “called to go back to Zimbabwe.”

“I realized I have much to offer. They needed a lot of skills,” she said. “I noticed as an entrepreneur [that] what was lacking in Zimbabwe was good branding, great visibility that could be global, and great marketing and advertising. Having lived in Silicon Valley, it was a no-brainer for me.” Sibanda teamed up with local entrepreneur Solomon Jama and founded Global Business Innovations, a company aimed at improving marketing and branding efforts in Zimbabwe and around the world.

Soon after the move, Sibanda’s son became ill with typhoid fever and had to be admitted into care. Sibanda placed him in Harare’s Children’s Hospital, where she was pleased that they cured her son, but concerned about their lack of resources. “Just an amazing recovery, but … they had limited resources and supplies. They’re recycling things that ordinarily [hospitals] throw away in the U.S. So, when I was thinking about a platform we could use to showcase what was happening … I thought of Thrive Beyond Illness.”

Courtesy of Phillipa Sibanda/Dominion Innovative Creations

They needed a face, someone who personified thriving, and someone who the kids could look up to. “When Phillipa [Sibanda] told me about the idea, I almost shed a tear,” said Tawanda Muzinda, Tanya’s father. “I thought, this is a good chance for Tanya to give back. She can be a role model for sick children and show them even if you’re sick today, you can be well tomorrow, and do what you want to do.”


Nine months after Tanya was born — she’s the oldest of three siblings — her immune system weakened. Tawanda Muzinda and his wife Adiyon sent Tanya to live with her grandparents in the country’s “rural areas” for nearly four years. She returned to Harare feeling stronger, and was able to attend the local school.

By mid-2015, a press conference was held to announce that Team Tanya – composed of Tawanda, Adiyon, Tanya and her Italian mentor, two-time women’s motocross champion Stefy Bau — was partnering with Harare Children’s. “It was a good feeling, because I got sick when I was younger, so I’m lucky I got to work and have the opportunity to give them hope,” said Tanya.

Tanya has known since she was 7 years old — the first time she placed on the victory podium at Donnybrook Raceway — that she wanted to become a motocross world champion. Her new goal is to break her mentor/trainer Bau’s 2x Women’s National Pro Champion record. And within the past few years, she’s been named the Junior Sportsperson of the year, received the Teen Female Sport Award, Zimbabwe’s Rising Star award, and those are just a few of her accolades. Tanya hopes to compete in the British Women’s Motocross Championship this month.

“Motocross in Africa, most girls don’t really do it,” said Tanya. “I want to show people you can’t spend the rest of your life being scared. I think I will inspire girls from all over the world.”