I remember the first time I saw the NBA logo—that iconic silhouette of Jerry West dribbling downcourt. It was on my cousin's basketball jersey back in 2008, and even as a kid, I recognized something timeless about that image. Fast forward fifteen years, and here we are debating whether this symbol that's defined basketball for over half a century needs an update. The conversation gained serious momentum when Brooklyn Nets guard Kyrie Irving tweeted in 2021 that the league was "blatantly disrespecting" Kobe Bryant by not changing the logo to honor him. But this isn't just about Kobe—it's about whether a league that prides itself on evolution should maintain a symbol frozen in 1969.
Let me walk you through what makes this debate so complex. The current logo features Jerry West, a phenomenal player who was 24 when the image was captured during a 1969 photoshoot. Think about that—he was younger than Jayson Tatum is today when his silhouette became immortalized. The designer Alan Siegel found West's photo in a magazine and paid him just $1 for the rights, something that would be unthinkable in today's endorsement landscape. West himself has expressed mixed feelings, once telling the LA Times he'd be "embarrassed" if people knew it was him. Meanwhile, the NBA has never officially confirmed the logo's identity, maintaining this curious position where everyone knows it's West but nobody says it aloud. This creates what I call "institutional ambiguity"—a convenient vagueness that allows the league to avoid difficult conversations about representation.
Here's where we hit the core question: should the NBA change its logo? I believe the answer is yes, but not for the reasons most people think. It's not just about honoring a different player—it's about whether the symbol still represents what basketball means in 2023. When that logo was designed, the NBA had 14 teams, the three-point line didn't exist, and international players were rare exceptions. Today, we have 30 teams, global superstars from Giannis to Jokić, and the game looks fundamentally different. The logo shows a player in what I'd call "controlled motion"—dribbling with perfect form, almost mechanical in execution. Compare that to how Ja Morant plays today—all explosive athleticism and creative flair. The current logo captures basketball as it was, not as it is.
The solution space offers several fascinating possibilities, and I've got my personal favorite. Kobe Bryant's silhouette has been widely circulated as an alternative—that image of him holding the ball after his 81-point game carries tremendous emotional weight. But here's my take: if we're changing it, let's not just swap one legend for another. Why not create something that represents the game's collective spirit? Imagine a circular logo featuring multiple silhouettes—perhaps Magic's no-look pass, Jordan's follow-through, and Curry's shooting form all integrated together. Or go completely abstract with a design that evokes the net and orange sphere without depicting any specific player. The WNBA's logo refresh in 2020 showed how effective geometric, player-agnostic designs can be. If we must honor an individual, I'd argue for Bill Russell—not just for his 11 championships but for his civil rights legacy that transcends sports.
What often gets missed in this debate are the commercial implications. The current logo appears on merchandise generating approximately $2.1 billion annually (my estimate based on licensing revenue patterns). A redesign would cost the league around $35-50 million in rebranding across physical and digital assets—but could generate triple that in new merchandise sales during the first year alone. I've worked with sports brands on logo transitions, and the initial spike always outweighs the costs. More importantly, a new logo could help the NBA connect with younger demographics who see the current design as "their parents' basketball."
Looking at this through my experience in brand strategy, the most compelling argument isn't about who should replace West, but what story the NBA wants to tell for its next 50 years. The league has transformed from predominantly American to truly global, from ground-bound to aerial artistry, from sports entertainment to cultural force. That 24-year-old Jerry West captured in mid-dribble represents excellence, no question. But excellence today looks different—it's more diverse, more creative, more boundary-pushing. Sometimes symbols need to evolve not because the old ones were bad, but because new ones can mean more. The NBA has an opportunity here to create something that doesn't just honor history but builds toward the future—and honestly, I hope they take it.