The NBA’s opening week was supposed to be about highlights, not handcuffs.

But on Thursday, Oct. 23, the league found itself at the center of one of the biggest scandals in modern sports: more than 30 people indicted in a nationwide illegal gambling ring that allegedly involved current and former NBA players — and members of New York’s organized crime families.

Among the accused are Portland Trail Blazers coach Chauncey Billups, former NBA player Damon Jones, and Miami Heat guard Terry Rozier — names once associated with game-winning plays, not the FBI. The three were arrested alongside alleged members of the Bonanno, Gambino, Genovese, and Lucchese New York crime families after a years-long investigation into a sprawling underground illegal gambling network.

The indictments put a major dent in the NBA’s reputation — yet the league has only itself to blame. The NBA rushed to embrace legalized gambling, arrogantly thinking it could maneuver its way through the industry, take the money, and run, all while shielding itself from the seedy characters that lurk in the dark alleys and crevices of the gambling underworld.

As a league, the NBA never quite understood its own children. Did it really not see that for many athletes, gambling could serve as another extension of their own competitive streak? That drive — the same one that fuels greatness — could also make them easy prey for organized crime figures who know exactly how to exploit it. For athletes today, gambling access is everywhere. Sportsbooks are inside arenas. DraftKings promotions tie directly to NBA League Pass. Gambling isn’t just around the game anymore; it’s inside it. What did the NBA think would happen?

Billups was charged for his connection to an illegal poker operation that used advanced technology to steal millions from players in games run by the mafia. Rozier is accused of manipulating his performance during an NBA game to assist illegal betting.

Jones faces charges for both participating in the poker scheme and providing inside information to help bettors. There are even reports of Jones providing injury information to associates about NBA superstar LeBron James.

Gambling, point-shaving, and game-fixing are nothing new.

Still, it would be disingenuous of me to lay the blame on the league entirely. The basketball purist in me, the former NBA player in me who bled for teammates in high school, college, and the pros, finds Rozier’s alleged actions the most egregious. Manipulating a game, faking an injury, or taking yourself out to influence a bet violates everything the game stands for. Those are among the most disrespectful things you can do to your teammates and the fans who believe in you.

Rozier was set to earn $26.6 million for the 2025-26 season. To risk it all for “a few extra coins” is beyond comprehension.

Billups, meanwhile, was always seen as one of the class acts of the league — polished, respected, and known as Mr. Big Shot for his clutch play. A five-time All-Star and 2004 Finals MVP, he was inducted into the Basketball Hall of Fame in 2024 and later became Portland’s head coach after a stint at ESPN.

Billups also played a pivotal role in my own basketball journey. Back in 1994, after playing well against him in an AAU matchup at the Boo Williams Tournament in Hampton, Virginia, a Villanova assistant coach approached me. That encounter led me to a full scholarship to Villanova, four years there, and eventually being drafted by the Los Angeles Lakers in the 1999 NBA draft.

Chauncey was also close friends with my former Lakers teammate Tyronn Lue, now the Clippers’ coach. Whenever I saw Chauncey, I’d remind him that if not for that game against him in high school, I might never have made it to Villanova or the NBA. So to see his name mentioned alongside mobsters nicknamed “Spooky,” “Tommy Juice,” and “The Wrestler” was surreal.

We’re living in strange times.

While this story is a bombshell — with athletes, coaches, legends, and the Mafia all entangled — what struck me most was seeing FBI Director Kash Patel hold a press conference to announce the indictments on the second day of the NBA season. It felt calculated — perfectly timed to dominate headlines and grab public attention by spotlighting the athletes rather than the mobsters who orchestrated the scheme.

In truth, Billups, Rozier, and Jones are merely the corner boys — distractions from the real distributors and kingpins behind the operation. But we live in a clickbait world, one that prizes entertainment over truth, and this current administration has mastered the art of misdirection.

America loves gambling. It’s always been the Mafia’s bread and butter — too tempting and too profitable to disappear. Even if some of these crime family members go down, they will be replaced by the next mafioso in line.

So what happens now? What does this mean for the NBA — and for all professional sports? What safeguards or education can protect players from themselves? I wish I had those answers.

Gambling, point-shaving, and game-fixing are nothing new. What is new is the level of access, visibility, and money involved. It’s no secret that illegal gambling and players’ connection to organized crime families are bad for sports; the real question is, how bad can this really get?

We wanted to believe the games were real. That the dunks, the threes, and the buzzer-beaters were pure. Surely, we wanted to believe that in the end, usually the best team always wins.

But with contracts skyrocketing and athletes earning more than ever, you have to wonder: why would players and coaches — some with nine-figure deals — risk everything to dance with the Mafia?

I can only shrug and remember the words of The Notorious B.I.G.: “Mo Money, Mo Problems.” John Celestand is the program director of the Knight x LMA BloomLab, a $3.2 million initiative that supports the advancement and sustainability of local Black-owned news publications.