Your Game Is the Message
Michael Jordan said it better than I ever could: “Let your game be your promotion and your marketing tool.” That was decades ago. He didn’t have Instagram. He didn’t have a highlight reel sitting in his camera roll. He just had the work — and the work spoke.
We don’t live in that world anymore. Or at least, parents and players act like we don’t. But it’s the same world.
The Three Kinds of Players
I’ve been watching this long enough to know there are really only three kinds of players out there.
The first kind doesn’t care about any of it — not the social media, not the optics, not the brand, not really even how good they are. They just play. Basketball is just another thing, which is fine as long as they know that.
The second kind works hard enough to not be bad. They put in enough time to feel like they’ve done something, but they won’t fully commit to what it actually takes — because they’re too busy chasing whatever else makes them feel good. The highlight videos. The follower count. The look of being a basketball player more than the thing itself.
The third kind is locked in. So locked in that there isn’t much room for anything else. These players aren’t perfect. They have off days. But their compass is pointed at one thing, and every decision they make — what they eat, when they sleep, how they spend a free hour — is about being their best.
The truth is, most players live in category two and tell themselves they’re in category three.
What You’re Actually Selling
Here’s the problem with building your brand before your game: nobody’s buying.
I know that sounds harsh. But go look at the players who genuinely blew up — not just for fifteen minutes, but the ones who actually changed their situation. They didn’t get there because they posted the right content. They got there because someone who mattered watched them play and couldn’t look away. The content followed. The attention followed. The opportunities followed. The game came first, every time.
And the game has a cost. In The Last Dance, fighting back tears, Jordan explained why he pushed his teammates the way he did: “Winning has a price. And leadership has a price… If you don’t want to play that way, don’t play that way.” Then he called for a break and walked away from the camera. People watched that and called him a tyrant. Maybe. But that moment is what category three actually looks like. It isn’t glamorous. It doesn’t always make you liked. And you can’t fake it for a camera.
When you are really, genuinely good, you do not have to tell anyone. People will want to come see. Some will love it. Some will hate it. Some will be indifferent. But they will follow. They will comment. The brands will show up. That’s the order. That’s always been the order.
Flipping the sequence — trying to build the audience before you build the game — is one of the most common and most damaging mistakes a young player can make. Not because social media is evil. If you want to be an influencer, do that. It’s a real thing. But if you believe that posting content is going to change your future as a basketball player, I can’t say it any other way: you’re wrong.
“But Coach, Film Gets Kids Recruited”
I can already hear it. And it’s true — film matters. I spent 18 years coaching in college. I watched a lot of tape.
But there’s a difference between film made for evaluators and content made for followers. A college coach wants to see who you are on every possession: how you defend off the ball, what you do after a turnover, whether you sprint back when you’re tired. A highlight reel shows me your best night. Full film shows me your habits.
One is a tool. The other is a distraction dressed up as a tool. If the game is real, the film will show it. If it isn’t, no edit will save you.
Maybe It Was Easy to Miss
Here’s the irony I can’t get past. The best thing ever said about this wasn’t said in an interview. It was said in a Nike commercial.
“Maybe it’s my fault. Maybe I led you to believe it was easy when it wasn’t. Maybe I made you think my highlights started at the free-throw line and not in the gym. Maybe I made you think that every shot I took was a game-winner. That my game was built on flash… and not fire.”
Think about that. The greatest marketing machine in the history of sports, with the most marketable athlete who ever lived, set out to sell shoes — and chose not to sell the dunks. It sold the gym. Even Nike knew the flash was never the point.
Flash and not fire. That’s the whole thing, right there.
The flash is what gets posted. The fire is what produces the flash. Players are investing in the flash — in the look of the thing — and wondering why the real results aren’t coming. Because the fire doesn’t photograph well. The fire is quiet. The fire is the tenth rep when you’re already tired. The fire is showing up on a everyday whether anyone is watching and no matter what’s on the line, nothing or everything.
The Daily Decisions Are the Answer
I’m not going to pretend there’s a secret. There isn’t one.
The daily decisions you make right now — today, this week, this month — will determine what your future looks like. And when you look back from wherever you end up, the question is going to be simple: did you keep the main thing the main thing?
It’s hard. It’s genuinely hard, and I won’t pretend otherwise. It’s not for everyone, and that’s okay. Not everyone wants what it actually costs. But if you do want it — if you’re serious about this — then the answer is already in front of you.
And if it’s not happening, that commercial ends with one more possibility. Jordan looks at those kids and says maybe it isn’t his fault at all. Maybe they’re just making excuses.
Stop performing. Start building.
The game will do the rest.
Aram runs Hoops College, a basketball training program in Charlotte. The program is the offer that follows from the argument. → hoopscollege.com