At a recent celebration, members of SLAM magazine’s staff, past and present over the last 30-plus years, were in disbelief.
The Hall of Fame. Seriously? SLAM in the Hall of Fame?
Founder Dennis Page and the publication were acknowledged by the James Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame with the Curt Gowdy Transformative Media Award at a ceremony in August. To some, this may have seemed unimaginable back in May 1994 when the first issue, featuring Larry Johnson on the cover, was released.
Thirty years ago, SLAM was unlike any modern journalism. It didn’t conform to traditional rules. Profanity in print was fair game. The writers and editors didn’t hide their biases.
“‘Outcast’ is a good word for us,” said Tony Gervino, the magazine’s first editor-in-chief who now serves as executive vice president and editor-in-chief at Tidal.
SLAM was part of a cultural shift that reflected a time when the NBA was evolving, a time when hip-hop was influencing the style of many players. The shorts got longer and baggier. Pregame playlists were more likely to feature Wu-Tang Clan or Snoop Dogg than R&B artists like Jeffrey Osborne or Luther Vandross. Tattoos became as common as high-top sneakers.
And there was SLAM, disrupting the status quo by amplifying the voice of the fan. Inspired by hip-hop magazine The Source, SLAM’s dynamic photography and storytelling resonated with a younger audience that cared about the shoes players wore just as much as the game scores.
The result? Over 300 million magazines sold since 1994 and 132 covers featuring a Hall of Famer.
SLAM magazine’s production stats are showcased at the 30th anniversary exhibit at the James Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame. (Bob Blanchard / SLAM)
SLAM didn’t conform to traditional media — nor did it aspire to. It resonated so deeply that others eventually attempted to imitate it. This shift was remarkable, especially considering the initial struggles of the New York City publication to secure NBA media credentials.
“We were really on the outside looking in at the party, and we just told people the party was bad,” Gervino said. “That’s why we were on the outside. We got in, then we stirred things up a bit.”
Page, a big sports fan with a profound love for music, was the publisher of Guitar World magazine when he was inspired by how The Source captivated the hip-hop audience.
Page believed that the world didn’t need another rap-focused magazine, as there were already plenty. What was missing was a publication that fused culture and sports.
“All over the world, young kids into hip-hop and basketball were not being spoken to by Sports Illustrated or Street & Smith,” Page explained. “But when we came out, we spoke their language.”
Fans embraced SLAM — and then the players followed suit. The magazine covers became iconic. Whether it was Kevin Garnett and Stephon Marbury flaunting their lavish jewelry or Allen Iverson appearing in his Sixers jersey with an Afro instead of his usual braids, SLAM struck a chord.
“We were just living it, and we wrote about basketball and wove in hip-hop music and lyrics. That was who we were,” Page said. “We weren’t a corporate publishing house, so we were just publishing the magazine for ourselves.
“Honestly, I had no idea there were that many people in the world who would understand this, accept it, and truly appreciate it.”
Thirty years later, SLAM received one of basketball’s most prestigious media awards. However, this success may not have been possible without the staff’s freedom. This meant employing nontraditional journalism methods like highlighting the sneaker world, featuring player diaries, and serving as a platform to connect basketball fans globally before the internet.
This led to captivating content.
“First and foremost, we were clueless,” said former SLAM writer and editor Lang Whitaker, who has worked for the NBA and GQ magazine and currently works for the Memphis Grizzlies. “We were just creating content that we thought was cool, and I think that’s why it resonated.
“For better or worse, there wasn’t much oversight. No one was dictating what we should be. Dennis just let us do our thing and allowed us to rock.
No one embodied the SLAM style in its early days more than Robert “Scoop” Jackson.
“The most significant individual in SLAM’s history is Scoop,” Gervino remarked. “He essentially inspired a generation of writers and kids who thought, ‘I can do that now.’”
Robert “Scoop” Jackson was one of the most respected journalists during SLAM’s early days. (David Zalubowski / Associated Press)
Jackson’s distinct approach to reporting allowed him to connect with NBA players in a unique yet appreciated way. The Chicago native was closer in age to the players and had a keen eye for talent and trends. He wrote about Iverson being the future of basketball before he entered the NBA, after watching Iverson play in a summer league while at Georgetown.
Jackson, now a columnist for the Chicago Sun-Times, aimed to tell compelling stories. He wanted to write about Chicago’s Ben Wilson, the Simeon High School prospect hailed as the top high school player in America who tragically died after being shot in November 1984.
Editors at SLAM were not familiar with Wilson’s story, driving Jackson to tell it with even more urgency — even almost a decade after Wilson’s passing.
“We crafted a human-interest story rooted in basketball culture and the potential future of basketball,” Jackson said. “But that future never materialized. In my opinion, once you delve into that, it lays the groundwork for how you will tell stories about basketball culture.”
Jackson was a fixture at SLAM for 11 years. While the presence of NBA stars often graced the covers, stories like Wilson’s formed the heart of the publication.
“Tony and I viewed Dennis as the White guy who fully grasped Black culture,” Jackson expressed. “He understood that basketball wasn’t just about the NBA.”
This mindset led SLAM to take a risk by delving into stories about Iverson before his NBA debut. It also allowed them to delve deeper into narratives about the culture and lifestyle of those involved in basketball, including profiles of streetball legend Rafer Alston, featured as “The Best Point Guard in the World” while at Fresno State. It also meant discovering standout high school players and spotlighting women who excelled in the game.
One story Jackson particularly recalls is a 1997 feature on Dawn Staley, the former star point guard at Virginia, six-time WNBA All-Star, and three-time Olympic gold medalist, who now coaches the reigning women’s college basketball champion South Carolina Gamecocks. Jackson spent time with her in her hometown of Philadelphia, visiting her old neighborhood and the courts she played on while gaining a deeper understanding of her as an individual.
This piece wasn’t about Staley’s time with Team USA, and the WNBA had not officially begun at that time (the first WNBA game was on June 21, 1997). Instead, the story explored the men she competed against growing up and what the city of Philadelphia meant to her.
“It wasn’t about her professional career, not really about her time at Virginia,” Jackson recalled. “We narrated the ’hood story of Dawn Staley.”
The significance of Iverson cannot be overstated. Jackson noted that he and Page had differing opinions on how to approach Iverson. At the time, a non-NBA player had not graced the cover. Iverson was still at Georgetown but had already won Big East Defensive Player of the Year as a freshman averaging 20.4 points.
Many basketball enthusiasts were unfamiliar with Iverson as a player. Some had heard about him as a high school standout who was arrested during a fight at a bowling alley. Jackson believed it was crucial to portray who Iverson was and his basketball journey, not just the off-court headlines.
“A key part of our duty was to narrate the cultural side of basketball first and then link it to the NBA,” Jackson explained. “But it wasn’t solely about Iverson. Even though he garnered attention, it was our story.
Jackson also highlighted Michael Jordan’s significance to SLAM. Page envisioned Jordan on the inaugural cover, but Jordan retired after the 1993 season. Johnson ended up on the cover instead.
Jackson mentioned that SLAM covered Jordan’s return to the league based on his impact on basketball culture. Additionally, Jordan’s disdain for Sports Illustrated, which famously advised him to quit baseball, played a role.
Jordan opened up to Ahmad Rashad from NBC, though the network was still intertwined with the NBA’s media apparatus.
“We told Jordan’s stories differently from anyone else. Our Jordan stories were unlike anything others wrote,” Jackson stated. “We developed a unique relationship with him, and he felt comfortable with us in a way he didn’t with others.
“We conversed about topics related to his approach to basketball and his contribution to the sport from a cultural viewpoint. So, I think our connection carried as much significance as our journalistic relationship with Allen Iverson.”
Jordan’s initial SLAM cover was in July 1995. He subsequently appeared on 13 covers over the magazine’s 30-year history, including three of the first 19 issues.
At that time, hip-hop had been around for over 20 years, and by the 1990s, it was setting its own standards. From fashion to subject matter, the music propelled a new culture forward.
SLAM’s writers mirrored this evolution. Page credited Jackson for playing a significant role in SLAM’s emergence. Jackson, a young Black writer in locker rooms, was of the same generation as the players. Being raised on hip-hop, he was keen on sharing players’ stories in a distinct manner.
“He was a young, talented writer and understood the players at a personal level,” Page stated. “We were part of the culture instead of trying to be objective or judgmental, as journalism can be. Looking back, it’s not that complex or deep.”
SLAM’s culture was elevated with the help of visuals.
The magazine produced some iconic cover photos in basketball history. Part of its longevity stems from covers being transformed into T-shirts. Page mentioned that SLAM collaborated with apparel brand Mitchell & Ness, allowing them to turn certain covers into wearable art.
The covers, many featuring hip-hop references, were memorable for players. NBA Hall of Famer Shaquille O’Neal stated that while he may not remember all the SLAM covers he appeared on, one in particular caught his eye.
“I remember that one,” he reminisced, pointing to the September 2000 issue featuring “Victorious BIG” in the background, celebrating O’Neal’s first championship with the Los Angeles Lakers.
The basketball connection was evident, but the title was also a nod to one of O’Neal’s favorite rappers: The Notorious B.I.G.
“This one is my favorite,” he affirmed.
For its covers, SLAM didn’t turn to conventional basketball photographers but sought professionals like Atiba Jefferson, with a skateboarding background, and Jonathan Mannion, renowned for his work in the music industry.
Mannion, known for shooting album covers for hip-hop and R&B stars like Jay-Z and Lil Wayne, found working with SLAM a refreshing challenge.
“They gave me a lot of creative freedom,” Mannion shared. “I loved working with these incredible athletes. … I always enjoyed (SLAM shoots), but I was also there to narrate an authentic story.”
An opportunity that stood out for Mannion was shooting Chamique Holdsclaw when she was a standout at the University of Tennessee, making her the first woman to feature on a SLAM cover.
Holdsclaw was captivated by the magazine as a high school star at Christ the King High School in New York. Following her stellar collegiate career, SLAM invited her to become the first woman to potentially play in the NBA.
The Tennessee star was then flown back to New York for a shoot with Mannion — dubbed “the Hip-Hop Photographer” by Holdsclaw.
The groundbreaking cover of Holdsclaw wearing a New York Knicks jersey for SLAM’s September 1998 issue is one she still autographs upon request.