“What Shoe Is So Bad That It’s Causing a Killing?”: Kevin Garnett on the Original Air Jordans, His Journey Through Sneaker Brands, and Anticipating Yeezys
Before this, I had premiered the Nike Jumpman. But the Jumpman was part of the Jordan brand. It was marketed under MJ’s umbrella, a second tier to see if other players could sell sneakers. I was the first, but then came Eddie Jones, Jim Jackson, Jason Kidd, and Jamal Mashburn. I was down with the Jumpman and played in those joints for a long time. At the same time, like every other brotha who’s ever hooped, I wanted my own shoe. Far as I was concerned, the Garnett 1 was a milestone.
Another thing about sneakers that make ’em so attractive: they’re fun. When you lace up your joints—whether you’re four years old or forty—you’re about to head out and have some fun. Which brings me to another reason I liked Nike. They put me on the Fun Police. The Fun Police was a series of commercials that helped launch my brand, even when the shoe wasn’t mentioned. The Fun Police helped introduce me as a TV personality and, in some ways, something of an actor.
I might have been the main member of the Fun Police, but I wasn’t the only one. My guys Tim Hardaway, Gary Payton, Jason Kidd, and Alonzo Mourning were on the force with me. The Fun Police had hoopers in the role of plainclothes cops making sure folks had a good time. But there’s always a twist. In one commercial, for example, the Fun Police—me, Zo, and Hardaway—are showing people to their seats at a game. When a fancy rich couple shows us their courtside tickets, we send them to the nosebleed section. And then when three young Black boys show us their nosebleed tickets, we send them courtside. Justice prevails.
These little mini dramas became part of the pop culture. Hoopers as make-believe good guy cops having fun; hoopers being heroes without even touching a basketball.
Downloading Nike culture was eye-opening. I saw the way they threw shit around. Try these Bo Jackson shoes. Try these Deion Sanders joints. Lace up them Agassis. It’s all up and crackin’, a merchandising machine that’s running 24/7, a worldwide industry tapping into branding in a way I got to see up close and personal.
Enter Vince Carter. Vince was looking to get out of his Puma deal. This was happening in 2000 while we were on the Olympic team that won the gold medal. After our victory over France, Nike threw a party on a boat. Vince was there, and so was his agent. I could see that business was going down. Later, I saw that Vince didn’t understand that as the first bigtime athlete on Puma, Puma could take him global. Vince wanted Nike. Vince got Nike, but Nike never quite got Vince. They didn’t do countless commercials on him. They didn’t pump his brand like it could have been pumped.
I looked at all this. I reflected. I saw that when it comes to the shoe business, you gotta tread carefully.
I had big love for two Nikes in particular: the Garnett Air Flightposite 2, for which I wrote a script on the sole that gives thanks to South Carolina and Chicago. That meant a lot to me. Also was crazy for the see-through iridescent air bubble bottom and the contrasting colors of peacock blue and black. The Nike Air 3 Garnett was also dope, especially the one in Minnie green and a swath of snow white.
It wasn’t all fun and games with Nike, especially when they introduced Shox, a new technology. Shox didn’t work for me. Didn’t like the way they felt on the floor. I also didn’t like the way the sneaker looked. The shoe sample I saw looked dumb as hell. Things came to a head at the 2003 All-Star Game in Atlanta. Nike threw a big party back in the dressing room. Cameras everywhere. Media going crazy. That’s where Nike wanted to reveal the Garnett 4 Shox. But when they showed it to me, I couldn’t fake my reaction. The shoe didn’t excite me. So the Nike execs got on my agent about making me act like I loved the shit when I didn’t.