Your life is so much better when you just show up as your true self
Jason Collins, who in 2013 became the first openly gay active male athlete in major American professional sports, died this week at 47 after a brief and fierce battle with glioblastoma. His passing closes a chapter that began with a single courageous sentence in a magazine and quietly rewrote the boundaries of identity in professional athletics. He lived long enough to see the door he opened become a hallway others could walk through — and to reflect, even in illness, that showing up as one's true self is its own form of victory.
- A diagnosis of inoperable brain cancer arrived late in 2025, with doctors giving Collins roughly three months without treatment — a brutal timeline for a man still in his mid-forties.
- Collins pursued every available option, from Avastin infusions to targeted chemotherapy in Singapore, fighting with the same quiet determination that had defined his public life.
- Even as he faced the disease, he drew a direct line back to his 2013 coming out, framing both moments as acts of radical honesty — refusing to hide, whether from the public or from his own mortality.
- The NBA, the Brooklyn Nets, and tributes from across the sports world converged this week in mourning a man whose legacy was measured not in points scored but in barriers permanently dismantled.
- Collins died having transformed professional sports in America, leaving behind a landscape where athletes are measurably freer to be themselves — a change that began with one sentence and one signature act of courage.
Jason Collins, the basketball player who became the first openly gay athlete in any of America's four major professional sports leagues, died this week at 47, after battling glioblastoma — an aggressive, inoperable brain cancer diagnosed late last year.
When Collins went public with the diagnosis in December, he described the tumor as spreading across the underside of his brain "the width of a baseball." He pursued treatment aggressively, receiving Avastin to slow the tumor's growth and traveling to Singapore for targeted chemotherapy. His family confirmed his death through the NBA, describing it as the end of "a valiant fight."
In sharing the news, Collins returned instinctively to the moment that had defined his public life: his 2013 Sports Illustrated cover story, which opened with the words "I'm a 34-year-old NBA center. I'm Black and I'm gay." At the time, he was a free agent and same-sex marriage remained illegal nationwide. The Brooklyn Nets signed him anyway, and Collins became the first openly gay player to take the court in the NBA, NFL, MLB, or NHL. He retired in 2014 after thirteen seasons across six teams.
The Nets called his death "heartbreaking," remembering him as someone who brought people together both on and off the court. NBA Commissioner Adam Silver said Collins would be remembered for "the kindness and humanity that defined his life." His Stanford coach recalled a player who was "big, smart, strong and skilled" — and a genuinely good person. Time Magazine once named him one of the hundred most influential people in the world.
What Collins leaves behind is less a statistical legacy than a structural one: a professional sports landscape quietly but permanently reshaped by his willingness, at a pivotal moment, to simply show up as himself.
Jason Collins, the basketball player who became the first openly gay athlete in any of America's four major professional sports leagues, died this week at 47. He had been fighting glioblastoma, an aggressive and inoperable form of brain cancer, since his diagnosis late last year.
Collins announced in December that doctors had found a tumor spreading across the underside of his brain—he described it as "a monster with tentacles spreading across the underside of my brain the width of a baseball." Without treatment, they told him, he had roughly three months to live. He began receiving Avastin, a drug meant to slow the tumor's growth, and traveled to Singapore for targeted chemotherapy. His family released a statement through the NBA saying he had died after "a valiant fight" with the disease.
The diagnosis arrived after Collins found himself struggling to concentrate. When he went public with the news, he drew a line back to the moment that had defined his public life: his decision twelve years earlier to come out as gay in a Sports Illustrated cover story. "Your life is so much better when you just show up as your true self, unafraid to be your true self, in public or private," he said then, reflecting on what those years had meant. "This is me. This is what I'm dealing with."
In 2013, when Collins published that essay—opening with the sentence "I'm a 34-year-old NBA center. I'm Black and I'm gay"—he was a free agent, and no one knew whether any team would sign him. The landscape for gay rights in America was shifting, but same-sex marriage remained illegal nationwide. What followed was a quiet vindication: the Brooklyn Nets signed him, and Collins became the first openly gay player to take the court in the NBA, NFL, MLB, or NHL. He played thirteen seasons across six teams, beginning his career with the New Jersey Nets before returning to them after their move to Brooklyn. He retired in 2014.
The Nets released a statement calling his death "heartbreaking." Collins had spent eight seasons in their uniform, the team noted, helping to build the franchise during its back-to-back Eastern Conference championship runs in 2002 and 2003. "Those who were around Jason every day knew him not just as a competitor, but as a genuinely kind, thoughtful person who brought people together," the organization said. NBA Commissioner Adam Silver echoed that assessment, saying Collins would be remembered "not only for breaking barriers, but also for the kindness and humanity that defined his life and touched so many others."
Mike Montgomery, who coached Collins at Stanford University before his professional career, told reporters it was "a sad day." Collins had been one of the school's greats—a player who could match up against anyone because he was "big, smart, strong and skilled, all while being a very bright and nice person." Time Magazine had named him one of the hundred most influential people in the world. Yet his influence, colleagues and league officials agreed, extended far beyond statistics or accolades. He had helped reshape what was possible in professional sports, making space for athletes to show up as themselves.
Notable Quotes
Your life is so much better when you just show up as your true self, unafraid to be your true self, in public or private.— Jason Collins, on living authentically
Jason changed lives in unexpected ways and was an inspiration to all who knew him and to those who admired him from afar.— Collins' family statement
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
When Collins came out in 2013, what was actually at stake for him?
Everything, really. He was a free agent. No team had to sign him. Gay marriage wasn't even legal yet. He was risking his livelihood on the bet that the world had changed enough.
And it had?
Enough. The Nets signed him. But I think what mattered more was what came after—that he played, that he was ordinary, that nothing catastrophic happened. He just showed up and did his job.
The essay he wrote—what made it different from other coming-out stories?
He led with three facts: his age, his race, his sexuality. No buildup, no apology. "I'm a 34-year-old NBA center. I'm Black and I'm gay." It was direct in a way that felt almost defiant.
When he got sick, did he talk about that moment?
Yes. He said the diagnosis reminded him of coming out—that both were about showing up as your true self, unafraid. He seemed to see them as part of the same arc.
What do people mean when they say his impact extended beyond basketball?
He changed what was permissible. After him, other athletes could come out without it being the end of their career. He made that possible just by existing in the space.
And now?
Now he's gone. But the space he opened—that stays open.