I wanted to be like Harry Allen.
He was the “Media Assassin” Public Enemy shouted in the “Don’t Believe The Hype” video in 1988. He even had a speaking part at the end of the song. To me, Allen saying “Don’t Believe The Hype” meant someday, I could be on a record — even if I wasn’t a rapper.
For a 10-year-old aspiring journalist, Allen made the profession cool and respectable. He wasn’t the kind of media Public Enemy would diss on a song, and I wanted to be down with Public Enemy. So, if I was going to be a journalist, I had to be like Allen.
If hip-hop endorsed a writer, it didn’t matter if my friends didn’t understand why I wanted to interview people and write about them for a living. Allen writes about race, culture and politics. I wanted to do the same, with sports mixed in.
Hip-hop let me know that was possible.
Hip-hop turned 50 years old on Friday. Being born in 1978 means I don’t know a world without it. The culture opened up a world of possibilities. It even changed what I thought a journalist had to be.
If you wanted to use words to make a point or share a message, you didn’t have to get behind a microphone and spit rhymes for the masses. The keyboard fit perfectly for those like me, aspiring to be like Allen. It’s a big reason a lot of my academic work dating back to ninth grade, when I used an EPMD song for an English assignment, has been intertwined with my aspirations.
Hip-hop was my gateway to storytelling. And sports was always in the mix. Kurtis Blow, who just celebrated his 64th birthday on Wednesday, rapped about basketball. Run DMC dropped “My Adidas.” Even the Fresh Prince dreamed of beating Mike Tyson.
Today in Hip Hop History:
Kurtis Blow was bornAugust 9, 1959
Y’all don’t know about Kurtis Blow?! “The Message” was a game changer in the world of music, and help push the HipHop movement further.
And I LOVED the song “Basketball.” It wasn’t until YouTube that I actually… pic.twitter.com/3n1vcUbZ1I
— StevieWildcards (@Steviewildcards) August 9, 2023
Athletes also were trying their hands at rapping, no matter how corny they were. Remember when the 1985 Chicago Bears had the “Super Bowl Shuffle”?
Being more than a fan of music and sports, I saw an opportunity to be like Allen — a voice for those misunderstood by the masses. Allen was a bridge to the mainstream for Public Enemy. I wanted to eventually be the same in sports and culture.
What I saw as a teenager was an attack on the culture I loved. Some didn’t understand why Ken Griffey Jr. wore his hat backward during batting practice. (I wore my hats backward all the time.) Critics unfairly and incorrectly blamed hip-hop for Griffey. I saw a future career in journalism as an opportunity to allow the Griffeys to speak freely and not feel that being themselves was a problem.
I remember covering the Oakland Raiders years ago and not flinching when edge rusher Derrick Burgess explained his sack celebration — a side-to-side rock — was a nod to Three 6 Mafia. Other reporters wanted an interpretation of what this “mafia” was, but I got it. This was the 21st century. There was no excuse for ignoring the impact hip-hop was having on sports.
Shaquille O’Neal was a platinum-selling rapper and still gets crowds going as a DJ. I’m a fan of Damian Lillard’s forays into rap, too. On a slow night during the 2019 NBA Draft, I wrote about the rap beef between Lillard and Marvin Bagley III. Were these two really mad at each other? What would happen next? Would it spill onto the court?
I know it’s something a lot of journalists couldn’t have handled then. But this was hip-hop! Let the battles start and end with lyrics. It was a night that, for me, further solidified the connection between sports and hip-hop.
The culture has made room for journalists like me, those who weren’t bothered by Allen Iverson’s cornrows and baggy clothes. And we journalists were needed. Not only were many of the players raised on hip-hop, but a generation of coaches heavily influenced by the culture was on the rise.
It helped me connect with Denver Nuggets coach Michael Malone when he landed his first head gig with the Sacramento Kings. He’d drop a classic line during his media sessions, once saying the Kings needed to “protect their necks” against an opponent — a shout-out to the Wu-Tang Clan.
For what it’s worth, everyone in sports wasn’t down with hip-hop. I don’t ever recall hearing Art Shell or George Karl shouting out Snoop Dogg or Ludacris. But hip-hop gave me the confidence to move in circles I might have been nervous about growing up in Long Beach, Calif.
Now sports and hip-hop cannot be separated. It seems every sports team has a DJ. Artists like J. Cole, Lil Wayne and so many others make sports a staple in their lyrics. Wayne and Jay-Z even got into the sports agency business.
50 Cent works with the Kings, agreeing to a multiyear partnership last year with the team and his premium wine and spirits company, Sire Spirits LLC, and his charity, G-Unity Foundation. E-40 might be the most famous Golden State Warriors fan at home games these days. He also reps the San Francisco 49ers and the San Francisco Giants to the fullest, traveling to road games.
Hip-hop opened my mind to what was possible in sports and beyond. Although I still don’t have a cool nickname like the Media Assassin. Maybe Chuck D or Flavor Flav can hook me up with one.
If not, I’ll settle for having one of the best professions in the world, and knowing hip-hop helped make it happen.
And if Public Enemy remakes “Don’t Believe The Hype,” I’ll gladly drop a line on the track.
(Photo by Noah Graham / NBAE via Getty Images)
