Championship Diamonds Part 2 - Jason of Beverly Hills

The second part of my interview with NBA and celebrity jeweller Jason of BH. In this part, we discussed meeting Michael Jackson and making him custom pendants, Drake's basketball league and Steph Curry dropping his Championship ring. Fun fact: Both of Jason's children's names are Jason.

Jewellery is weighed by carat – it’s also weighted by memory. Take LaMelo’s new chain. Basketball’s most anticipated rookie celebrated draft day with a diamond “number one” necklace. For better or worse, Melo’s purchase is embedded with expectation. The item will represent failed potential or a showy pitstop on the path to glory. 

A lifelong hoops fan, Jason relishes these moments. He’s been commemorating player milestones for two decades. In 2016, the NBA asked him to surprise the late Kobe Bryant for his retirement. Jason crafted a set of rings lavish enough to impress someone worth $600 million. 

The dazzling gift, also given to Vanessa, is set with five large diamonds – one for each championship. It holds an additional 20 rocks for every year in the league. Both sides contain Kobe’s jersey numbers and key career dates. The ring also contains snakeskin in tribute to his Black Mamba alias.

“It was amazing for me to have the opportunity to do that,” Jason reflects. “And it’s funny because I saw for the first time the video of him getting the ring just two days ago. I guess there is a video that exists out there on YouTube or somewhere that shows him opening the box, getting the ring and seeing his reaction. That was really cool.”  

Yes, the footage exists. Kobe seems genuinely taken by the gift. He gasps, and barely sits down before standing to tear the box open. Bryant recites “wow” several times as Lakers owner Jeanie Buss looks on, close to tears.

Keep reading here.

Humanity on Wheels - Photographing Melbourne's Skateboarding Community

Skateboarding is a potpourri of personality; a mosaic of flavours and styles. Its capacity for individuality fuels my current project.

Last year, I bought a skateboard on a whim. I'm not sure if I was reliving my childhood or restoring serotonin lost during Covid-19. Regardless, it was a wise decision.

While honing my hobby, I encountered every subculture, every wing of society. Goths, gangstas, punks, nerds, rockers and drag-queens all sped past my rookie manoeuvres. These people look different. Their wardrobe is specific and their boards are too. Of course, there's the skater in Dickies and a five-panel cap. But a spectrum of style rolls alongside tradition.

Whether trench-coated or miniskirted, skaters also ride uniquely. Old-school dudes do hand-plants at Brunswick Bowl. The street stylist masters flip tricks at Riverslide Park. The adrenaline junkie launches from ramps in secret locations. The punks thrash through crusty DIY backyards in Preston.

On first glance, these people have little in common. They like different music, come from different backgrounds and inhibit different neighbourhoods. Yet they're often firm friends.

Most skaters take this for granted. I too was aware of different styles. But I didn't realize the extent of individuality that skating encompassed.

Upping your trick arsenal and planning the next obstacle creates a mutual connection. Total strangers share anecdotes and strategies. Everyone is stoked to be on the hamster wheel of self-improvement. Yes, there are dicks and lowlifes. But there are dicks at the post office too.

As a 33-year-old I found myself connecting with 19-year-olds. Skating evened our differences - all because of this joint endeavour. Initially, I rode self-consciously, expecting judgement or intimidation. My 2001 skate memories mostly include running home from fights. Things seemed to have changed, at least in my experience.

I've met so many interesting humans it feels a bit like travelling. People have told me of mental breakdowns, Kabbalah lessons and small-town upbringings. I now seek out these conversations as a bonus every time I ride.

This experience had inspired my latest work - a series of photos, personal tales and quotes you can find here.

This project will continue grinding throughout 2021. I'm looking forward to more shooting and more stories. All alongside my personal human gumbo - happily stirred together by skateboarding.

Championship Diamonds- Jason Of Beverly Hills

I had a blast writing this and I love the way it’s laid out. I’m also glad I tracked down one of the key players behind NBA Championship jewellery. Jason, as you can tell by his “of Beverly Hills” alias, is such a character. Who else would have two children also named Jason? This guy.

“Jewellery is a form of communication. It says how we feel about ourselves, who we remember and what we believe. A necklace might convey wealth, religion, marital status or pure, unfettered, fresh to death, wipe me down, swag. 

No matter what the jewels proclaim, Jason of Beverly Hills loves the conversation. Drake and ASAP Rocky’s favourite iceman, he adorns A-listers, royalty and the mega-rich. Jason’s lockbox includes diamond-encrusted loafers, a $400k iPhone case and the priciest toy car ever made. Basketball, however, is the soul of the operation.

Around half of all active NBA players wear Jason’s product. His reputation for educating rather than fleecing stars means he’s often introduced right after they’re drafted. LeBron, Kevin Durant and Draymond Green all met the jeweller before their first games.  

Financial wisdom aside, players also depend on JBH’s discretion. He’ll produce a disco-ball chain for a draft pick, help surprise their childhood friend or privately commemorate their loved one. JBH will polish the wedding ring – he’ll also appease the side-chick who didn’t get invited.

Jason’s so ingrained in the NBA; he’s learned to interpret the signs of a long career as well an upcoming blowout. Jewellery purchases say more than you’d think.

When a player examines what they’re buying, to learn what separates the VVS from the cubic zirconia – that attention to detail often translates into their wider career. A rookie who’s savvy with diamonds will likely read a sponsorship deal closely or think twice about leasing that third Mercedes. 

Read the full piece here.

New Freelance Work - A Kung Fu/NBA crossover

Animated tiles by my man Steve Duck, I think they look sick.

Damn I have been writing a lot lately. My brain is actually kinda sore. Anyway, I wrote this piece for Homecourt about the time Kareem starred in a Bruce Lee flick. It was actually super interesting to research. Might have to buy Lee’s autobiography next. Read on…

Bruce Lee stepping to Kareem is an event which belongs in your imagination. A basketball martial-arts crossover featuring a seven-foot centre playing a light-sensitive demon is so ridiculous it has no right to exist. I’ve refreshed Wikipedia and taken a cold shower just to double-check I didn’t make it up. And yet, here we are. 

The world’s standalone Kung-Fu fighter duked it out with Jabbar in 1972’s Game of Death. Bruce Lee’s final outing has the storyline of a Nintendo side-scroller. A retired champion pummels his way through a five-story tower looking for his sister. After defeating a dozen black belts, masters of Korean and Filipino traditions, a kicking adept and a praying-mantis style warrior, Bruce’s final boss is… an NBA champion. Stupid, right? Maybe. But it’s also amazing.   

For those unaware, Bruce’s fusion of swag and fury cannot be replicated. His tenacious smirk pierces the soul. Lee’s shadowboxing is spiritual communion with God. Watch as he two-steps enemies into submission.  

Tomes have been written about Bruce’s influence. He was the archetype for Goku. Neo mimics his beckoning hand in The Matrix. Lee’s melding of martial art disciplines inspired the UFC. There’s a striking resemblance to *Michael Jackson’s choreography. Even his octave shattering pitch sounds like a Jacko ad-lib. 

Before Lee’s untimely 1973 death, he spent years training Kareem. They were introduced while the latter was still in college. Abdul-Jabbar was an aikido disciple. A friend suggested he meet Bruce and try his Jeet Kune Do mechanic. 

Read more here.

Round 2 - NBA Photographer Nat Butler

Just like Usher’s Confessions II, Sometimes the sequel is as good as the original.

Part two of me versus famed NBA photographer Nat Butler. We cover the time he met Nelson Mandela and had to move away from the window because of snipers. Also travelling Paris before Magic Johnson's AIDs diagnosis. Read it below.

Within the NBA’s airtight bubble, Mr Butler is one of the few to eyeball this year’s playoffs. Joining a handpicked roster, Nat shoots from a delegated corner. Typically, he’d pace the hardwood like Frank Vogel after a bad foul. This year is different. Butler’s visuals of Tyler Herro overlooked by disembodied avatars are peak 2020. After four decades; Nat has officially seen it all. 

It’s difficult to appreciate everything the New Yorker has witnessed. Magic’s 1987 game-winning skyhook looks like a museum artifact. Nat’s Slam 1996 cover was one of my first magazines. 

Butler shot early games in monochrome because some newspapers didn’t run colour. He’d develop film rolls hoping his single button press captured a nanosecond of action. Nowadays, his visuals are available to a team of editors within seconds. In minutes, they can reach millions. 

Nat typically spends at least eight months with athletes. He’s in the locker room, at the medical centre, in the gym and on the floor. Players don’t censor their conversations because they know Butler. He’s not thirsty. Clout-chasing isn’t in his consciousness. He knows when to put the camera down and when to immortalize the scene. 

“It starts at the top. If you were good with MJ then you were good with the rest of the team. If you’re good with Lebron, then you’re good with everybody else,” he says. 

More jewels here.