May|June 2003
Throwback
EARLIER THIS SEASON, PHILADELPHIA'S ALLEN IVERSON showed up at a postgame press conference wearing an Atlanta Hawks jersey. The Sixers superstar hadn't been traded; the jersey was a replica of the one worn in the 1986�87 season by the now-retired Dominique Wilkins, who was known as "the Human Highlight Reel." Local sportswriters called Iverson's move a fashion faux pas of the highest order, reminding the 2001 MVP that players shouldn't go around wearing the colors of an opposing team. Iverson countered that he was paying homage to a legend.
Iverson, who sells his Reebok high-tops in ads featuring the rapper Jadakiss, was also taking part in a trend that, like many others lately, has its roots in hip-hop. For the past year or so, hip-hop stars have shown up in videos and at awards shows wearing throwback jerseys, replicas of the uniforms worn by players like the Washington Bullets' Wes Unseld, whose 1977�78 jersey Sean "P. Diddy" Combs sported during a recent TV appearance.
The fad has been fueled by a desire to pay respect to players like Wilkins, but there's an aesthetic element involved as well. How else to explain the popularity of Alex English's jersey, one of the hardest to keep in stock? While English was an eight-time all-star, he played for a small-market team at a time when the NBA wasn't the star vehicle it is today. The popularity of his 1987�88 Nuggets jersey is likely attributable to its rainbow-colored rendering of the Denver skyline as much as to his accomplishments as a player.
Throwback jerseys are manufactured by a few small companies like Philadelphia's Mitchell & Ness, which made the jersey above, and they typically sell for between $150 and $450. With that kind of money at stake, a handful of players�Wilkins, Unseld, and English among them�have started wondering out loud where their share is. As Stephen Weizenecker, a lawyer Wilkins recently hired, put it, "The money disappears into the ether."
Actually, it disappears into the coffers of the NBA's Retired Players Association, which manages licensing on behalf of former players. Athletes from other pro sports leagues are paid directly for any sales they generate. The NBARPA, however, earmarks the money it earns through licensing agreements for member services. Until throwback jerseys became popular, the question of how to distribute the revenue hadn't been considered, according to NBARPA head Mark Eaton, a 7'4" former Utah Jazz center and one of the leading shot blockers in NBA history.
Players like English, who had no expectation that their names would be a significant source of income, routinely signed away their right to receive royalties. Weizenecker believes that English is typical and that most players had no idea what they were agreeing to when they signed away their rights. "They get handed a one-page document and it doesn't offer any particulars and it doesn't even look like it's a legal document," he said.
As sales of retro jerseys have picked up, a handful of players have followed Wilkins's lead and decided to opt out of the NBARPA's licensing agreement. But many players have also called Mark Eaton to make sure that proceeds from their jerseys go to the organization. The NBARPA funds scholarships for players who want to return to school after retirement and provides health care for members�good news for players who were neither stars nor lucky enough to play for a team with snazzy uniforms.
�THE EDITORS