INGLEWOOD, Calif. — The amber colored court gleamed in red and blue lights designed for NBA spectacles. The bass dropped. Then, the magic began.
They emerged from the tunnel, amidst the white fog, not as gladiators reporting for duty, but as showmen answering a century-old curtain call. The players sprinted and dashed across the court, basketballs dancing on fingertips, spinning narratives that began long before any of us drew breath.
The Intuit Dome, with its gleaming steel and soaring rafters, was built for the Los Angeles Clippers. But on Friday night, with families leaning forward in their seats and children's eyes wide as dinner plates, it's clear: this palace was made for the Harlem Globetrotters.
For 100 years, they have traveled the earth not merely playing basketball but reinventing it. They took a game invented in a Massachusetts gym and painted it with the colors of Harlem, infusing it with rhythm, wit and a defiance that would come to define not just a sport but a people's place in the American story.
The players dazzle and fly through the air in breathtaking fashion—somersaulting, spinning, suspending themselves in the atmosphere like questions without answers.
They are descendants of a tradition that predates the NBA's integration, that outlasted segregation, that transformed athletic excellence into ambassadorship. One hundred years of excellence and ambassadorship.
One hundred years of proving that basketball could be ballet, that competition could coexist with comedy, that Black excellence could travel the world long before the world was ready to welcome it.
But the story begins not in Inglewood. Not in Harlem, despite the name.
It started in 1926, on the South Side of Chicago, when a Jewish immigrant named Abe Saperstein assembled a group of Black athletes who loved basketball. Walter “Toots” Wright, Byron “Fat” Long, Willis “Kid” Oliver, Andy Washington and Al “Runt” Pullins, played their first game in Hinckley, Illinois a in 1927, five men with big dreams and a $75 payout, traveled in a battered Model T Ford through a segregated America that didn't want them sleeping in its hotels or eating in its restaurants.
The Savoy Big Five called themselves the Harlem Globetrotters even though they were from Chicago. They took the name because Harlem meant Black excellence.
Harlem meant culture. Harlem meant belonging.
They dubbed themselves after the cultural hub of African American aspiration, a name that carried weight even when the players could not yet carry the recognition they deserved.
By 1940, they had won their first World Basketball Championship, defeating the Chicago Bruins. By 1951, they stood on a field in Berlin, playing before 75,000 people in Olympic Stadium, bringing basketball to a continent still healing from war. The U.S. State Department took notice. They wrote a letter naming the Globetrotters "ambassadors of extraordinary goodwill."
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Harlem Globetrotters guard Sunshine West (8) celebrates during a Harlem Globetrotter basketball game against The Washington Generals, Friday February 20, 2026 in Los Angeles.
That letter changed everything. It formalized what the players already knew: they weren't just entertainers. They were diplomats in high-top sneakers, carrying a message of joy across borders that politics couldn't cross.
"When I think about their history, their impact on the sporting cultures we know today, it's really just unimaginable, but it happened," says Keith Dawkins, president of the Harlem Globetrotters & Herschend Entertainment Studios. "Here we are a hundred years later, still celebrating all those things with this global fan base."
They played their first game in 1927. They won their first World Basketball Championship in 1940, defeating the Chicago Bruins in a victory that meant everything and received nothing—the championship that history forgot, the title that segregation erased from mainstream memory.
© Dale Ernsberger / The Tennessean
Members of the world-famous Harlem Globetrotters relax on the steps of the historic Parthenon at Centennial Park Nov. 8, 1978 during a break in filming for a segment of their ABC Wide World of Sports special to be aired in January.
The innovations arrived early. They arrived often.
Before the crossover was an NBA weapon, it was Globetrotter art. Before Steph Curry launched from 30 feet, before Caitlin Clark pulled up from the logo, before Luka Dončić made deep balls look routine, there were the Globetrotters.
"I see Steph Curry or Caitlin Clark, or Luka Dončić shooting from deep, but that was never done before," Dawkins said. "Yes, it was, it was the Harlem Globetrotters."
Marques Haynes dribbled like the ball was attached to a string, pioneering moves that would become the foundation of modern point guard play. Wilt Chamberlain, before he scored 100 points in an NBA game, spent the 1958-59 season as a Globetrotter, learning showmanship from men who understood that basketball could be theater.
They invented the alley-oop, the dribble-off, the no-look pass that wasn't just effective but beautiful. They took a sport built on efficiency and added joy. They took a game defined by rules and added imagination.
Before the alley-oop became a staple of NBA highlight reels, the Globetrotters threw it. Before the behind-the-back dribble became standard, they standardized it. Before high-flying dunking became the league's universal language, they spoke it fluently—translating athleticism into artistry, power into poetry.
The dribble off, the no-look pass, the ball handling that seemed to defy human anatomy—these were not mere tricks. They were innovations, technical revolutions disguised as entertainment. The Globetrotters expanded basketball's vocabulary, taught it new ways to communicate wonder.
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Harlem Globetrotters Curly Neal entertains the crowd prior to game against the Washington Generals at the Westchester County Center in White Plains Dec. 16, 1979. The Globetrotters won the game 82-60.
Legends like Meadowlark Lemon and Curly Neal paved the way for current trotters, their names now mythology, their moves now archaeology. They played in an era when Black athletes could not yet dream of NBA stardom, so they invented their own cosmos—24,000 games across 123 countries, ambassadors before the word carried its current weight, entertainers who understood that entertainment could be resistance.
The political, social and cultural impact they've had on the game and society cannot be overstated. They were integrationists before integration, globalists before globalization, showmen who understood that the show was never just the show—it was a demonstration of possibility, a mobile museum of Black excellence that arrived in towns where such excellence was neither expected nor welcomed.
In 1951, they played before 75,000 people at Berlin's Olympic Stadium. The U.S. State Department, watching this reception, named them "ambassadors of extraordinary goodwill"—official recognition of what the players had always known: that basketball could be diplomacy, that athleticism could be advocacy, that five men in red, white and blue could represent a nation that often refused to represent them.
They are important for Black History not merely as performers but as pioneers, not simply as athletes but as evidence—living, dribbling, dazzling evidence that limitation is a fiction imposed by those who fear transcendence.
During a time when Black athletes weren't allowed to play in the NBA, they would play with the Globetrotters—including Hall of Famer Wilt Chamberlain, who played with the Globetrotters from 1958 to 1959. The team became a sanctuary, a proving ground, a waiting room for talent that the mainstream was not yet ready to acknowledge.
In 1985, Olympic gold medalist Lynette Woodard joined the Globetrotters, becoming the first woman to ever play on a men's pro basketball team. The milestone passed without the fanfare it deserved, another innovation buried beneath the noise of history. "If you ask someone who was on the first team to sign a woman player on a male team? And when was that seismic moment? That was the Harlem Globetrotters," Dawkins said.
Since 1926, the team has played in front of over 148 million people in 123 countries and territories. The numbers overwhelm. The numbers underwhelm. How do you quantify joy? How do you measure the first smile on a child's face in a country where basketball had never been seen?
The organization refers to its leader as "Showman." The title carries weight. It suggests not merely performance but stewardship, not simply entertainment but responsibility—the weight of tradition, the obligation of legacy.
Playing for the organization is a family unto itself. This is not metaphor. This is genealogy.
"Sweet" Lou Dunbar has been a Globetrotter legend for decades, a name whispered alongside Meadowlark Lemon and Curly Neal. Now, his son, Sweet Lou II carries the name, the number, the legacy. Their story highlights generations of showmen who have used their performances to deepen their relationships and transform shared employment into shared destiny.
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Harlem Globetrotters forward Sweet Lou II Dunbar (41) gestures during a Harlem Globetrotters basketball game against The Washington Generals, Friday February 20, 2026 in Los Angeles.
Their story is the story of the Globetrotters itself: a family business where the product is happiness. The elder Sweet Lou traveled the world while his son stayed home, working on his game, practicing a language he knew would bring them together.
The father traveled the world, the son waited home, practicing, preparing, proving through repetition that love could be expressed through layup lines.
"Oh man, it's an honor to be able to follow my father's footsteps," Sweet Lou II said. "Harlem Globetrotter legend. It's really a blessing for me to continue this 100-year anniversary for him."
The son remembers Globetrotters coming to his school—men adorned in red, white and blue, spinning basketballs on fingertips like the earth on its axis, setting examples, being role models. Now he sets them. The circle completes itself.
How has being a Globetrotter and how has the game of basketball brought the two together?
"You know, he was always traveling like you said, but I was always at home working on my game. So I always wanted to have something to show him whenever he came back home. That was kind of my way of showing him that I really cared," Dunbar said.
He cared through craft. He loved through labor. The father never forced basketball upon him—”He never forced basketball on me, so it was always my decision. And becoming a Globetrotter was also my decision."—and this freedom made the choice meaningful, made the inheritance voluntary, made the legacy alive.
"Don't let anybody tell you that you can't do anything," Sweet Lou II advises children who dare to dream. "It's all in your power. Keep putting the work in and do your best every day."
The advice is simple. The advice is everything.
When the Globetrotters take the court, they wear more than uniforms. They wear stories.
The white jerseys, trimmed with blue and red, with gold letters and numbers, tell tales of revolution, resilience and resolution.
This is not incidental. This is design.
Jeff Hamilton, the renowned fashion designer, designed the jerseys that tell stories and flair beyond their red, white and blue hues. Hamilton, whose hands have touched leather worn by Kobe Bryant and Michael Jordan, by Cam'ron and Dipset, by A$AP Rocky—Hamilton, whose name resonates through Harlem like bass through a speaker—has transferred his alchemy to the Globetrotters' fabric.
"I'm blessed to see the Harlem Globetrotters again," Hamilton said. "I grew up as a kid always loving the Globetrotters before I even knew about the NBA or anything like that."
Hamilton spoke of DNA—"the whole original DNA that Harlem Globetrotters is a true American brand. It's true Americana, the red, white and blue and the whole feeling that goes with it." He sought to capture history with his flair, his twist, his vision of what the brand represents to him: "My interpretation through my eyes, how I see it."
Hamilton kept the Americana colorway but added his trademark, unique flair, his twist, his vision.
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Harlem Globetrotters guard Lights Out Garcia (21) dribbles the ball during a Harlem Globetrotters basketball game against The Washington Generals, Friday February 20, 2026 in Los Angeles.
The stars inscribed on the fabric, the vintage feeling adjusted to contemporary time—"every jacket has a story to tell," Hamilton insists. "You don't wear a Jeff Hamilton jacket because you're bald. You don't wear a Rolex to know what time it is. It's kind of like making a statement, being able to tell a story."
And the story continues. Leather jackets already exist—"some of the emcees are wearing some of them"—and the collaboration extends, a love affair between designer and dynasty, between fashion and flight.
His unique punctuation on threads of cotton, leather and denim is stitched into every work of art. But does Hamilton consider himself a misfit?
He pauses. He considers. He rejects.
"I don't have any connection to it because I always feel like I just have to be everything. I'm a very logical person. For me, every piece has to fit in a puzzle."
The Globetrotters are not misfits. They are the puzzle complete, the picture whole, the pattern that makes sense of disparate parts.
The Globetrotter women arrive with their own mythology, their own machinations of wonder. The men aren't the only ones carrying that torch.
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Harlem Globetrotters guard Sunshine West (8) gestures during a Harlem Globetrotter basketball game against The Washington Generals, Friday February 20, 2026 in Los Angeles.
Kaylin "Sunshine" West prances across the court with the grace of a dancer, her dainty demeanor belying a scorer's killer instinct. She gets buckets with a smile, flipping and gliding through defenses that can't quite figure out how someone so elegant can be so devastating.
Eryka "Spice" Sidney is something else entirely. All gas, no brakes. A Tasmanian devil in a uniform, she dashes around defenders, destroying ankles with handles so tight they might as well be handcuffs. Diminutive but dynamic, she's a terror with the ball and a joy to watch without it.
They follow in Woodard's footsteps.
Tyrus Crawford embodies the flair and passion of the Globetrotters like breath embodies life.
"I love the camera. I love the lights," Crawford announced, and the statement is not vanity—it is vocation. He is Tyrus "Rim Reaper" Crawford, a name born not from marketing but from a moment, from an announcer's inspiration on his college senior night that stuck in memory like a dunk.
"Coming to the court, number five, Tyrus ‘Rim Reaper’ Crawford," the voice boomed, and Crawford's reaction—visible, visceral, victorious—cemented the identity.
He speaks of full circles, of teammates who were heroes before they were friends. "Shout out to my boy, Alex Weekes ‘Moose’," Crawfird said, remembering being a child in the crowd, remembering Moose's hair, remembering wonder. "Growing up, just seeing Moose do his thing and being a teammate of his now, it's a full circle moment, man."
The Globetrotters are a family, Crawford insists, and the insistence is not abstract. "During training camp, when I first got here, it was accepting. Everybody was so accepting to me, especially my vets. They always tell me, you know, you're a rookie, but we treat everybody equal."
Equality through excellence. Family through flight.
But the evening belongs to Thunder.
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Harlem Globetrotters showman Thunder Law (23) gestures during a Harlem Globetrotters basketball game against The Washington Generals, Friday February 20, 2026 in Los Angeles.
Cory "Thunder" Law incorporates children and adults into the show with the effortless authority of a man who understands that the fourth wall was always meant to be broken.
He has appeared on "The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon," on "Rachel Ray," on Nickelodeon, on "SportsCenter." He's a high-flyer with a healthy disregard for gravity, a man who touches sky and rattles rims with equal authority.
Law uses kids, press and adults into the game—pulling them from their seats, from their skepticism, from their passive consumption into active participation. Thunder is the lead performer, and he leads not from above but from within, providing comedic relief that never condescends, incorporating fans into the performance without ever exploiting them.
"Yo, what's up? So, my name is Thunder," Law said.
The name arrived with an origin story attached.
"I came in with some crazy bounce... it wasn't just bounce, it was power. Every time I dunked, it was very thunderous. Just crashing in the rim," Law said
While Thor might have created thunder and lightning, Harlem Globetrotter, Thunder Law, brings the modern-day hammer every time he dunks.
When he's not making people laugh, he's making them gasp.
A high-flyer with a healthy disregard for gravity, Thunder has the hops to touch the sky and the power to rattle the rim every time he steps on the court. He owns 11 Guinness World Records titles—eleven official recognitions of the impossible made routine.
But power is not his only dialect. He also brings touch and aim as a master of several long-distance trick shots, demonstrating that strength without precision is merely force, while strength with precision becomes art.
His comedic style depends upon authenticity—"I let the audience literally dictate everything I do," Law said. "I don't like to come in here with some planned sketch because people know what's real and what's not." The crowd work is his favorite part, the interaction his true medium, the spontaneous connection between performer and patron the genuine product.
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Harlem Globetrotters showman Thunder Law (23) gestures during a Harlem Globetrotters basketball game against The Washington Generals, Friday February 20, 2026 in Los Angeles.
"To be an ambassador for the Harlem Globetrotters," Thunder reflected. "That's what we're known as, ambassadors of goodwill. And to be able to go around the world and just bring joy—that's an honor that I carry with much pride."
Law speaks of universal languages, of smiles translated across 45 countries, of Dirk Nowitzki in Germany watching his first basketball game and seeing possibility. "His first time ever seeing basketball was through the Harlem Globetrotters in Germany and he went on to be the greatest international player ever. That just speaks values of the Harlem Globetrotters."
"I don't even know if basketball is a universal language, but I know the Globetrotters is a universal language. Out of these thousands of fans that came here, some people might not even love basketball, but they love to smile, they love to feel good, and they love the Harlem Globetrotters. That just speaks to the values of the Harlem Globetrotters," Thunder said.
But ask Law what matters, and he'll tell you about his daughters. He's a girl dad, like his hero Kobe Bryant. He'll tell you about the torch he has inherited.
"I'm blessed to be able to sit with Sweet Lou and talk to him all the time," Thunder said. "He just tells me about the things he had to go through just for us to be able to do this at the level we're doing it. The things they did before us, they pass that torch down. I want to keep this thing going for another 100 years."
Values. Not value. The distinction matters.
One hundred years.
One hundred years of spinning basketballs on fingers like the earth on its axis, of traveling to countries that had never seen a Black man in person, of proving that athleticism could be elegance, that competition could be kindness, that the game could be a gift.
"There's only a handful of brands across industries that make it to a hundred years," Dawkins said. "I don't think it's overstated to say the Globetrotters are the founders of a lot of that stuff. The first real professional sports team to be traveling the globe, bringing basketball—bringing a sport—to areas of the planet Earth that had never heard of the sport. Bringing American culture and Black athletes all over the globe."
The Harlem Globetrotters did not integrate basketball—they internationalized it. They did not merely entertain—they educated, demonstrating through behind-the-back passes and between-the-legs dribbles that the body could do more than the mind had imagined, that Black excellence could not be contained by American segregation or global ignorance.
"We are the brand that brings people together, the brand that brings joy and hope and laughter and possibilities," Dawkins insisted. "Now we have to be strategic and thoughtful about how we are articulating that message for all of its unique, 8- to 80-year-old audiences. If we do that, then I think we're here for another hundred years."
Amber Rodriguez - The Sporting Tribune
Harlem Globetrotters guard Sunshine West (8) celebrates during a Harlem Globetrotter basketball game against The Washington Generals, Friday February 20, 2026 in Los Angeles.
At Intuit Dome, the show ends the way it always ends. The Globetrotters win. The Washington Generals lose. Families file out, faces aching from smiles, children spinning invisible basketballs on imaginary fingers.
Sweet Lou II will talk to his father later. Rim Reaper will laugh with Moose. Thunder will hug his daughters. Sunshine and Spice will trade stories about the night's best ankle-breakers.
The Intuit Dome will return to its regular schedule and tenants. The Clippers will play their games, efficient and corporate, and their signage will hang silent again. But for one evening, the building showcased what it has the capacity to be—not merely a venue but a vessel, not merely architecture but aspiration.
And somewhere, in a living room or a schoolyard or a dream, a kid will pick up a basketball for the first time.
They won't know about Abe Saperstein's Model T, the Olympic Stadium in Berlin, or the State Department letter that made athletes into ambassadors.
They won't know about Wilt or Marques or Meadowlark or Curly.
But they'll know the night’s magic. They'll feel the joy. They'll understand, without anyone explaining it, that this game can be more than a game.
That's the legacy. That's the gift. That's the Harlem Globetrotters, 100 years young, still spinning, still smiling, still showing the world what's possible when you play with passion and purpose.
They didn't just change the game. They created a new one. And they're not done yet.
The Globetrotters packed their bags, their balls, their infinite capacity for wonder. They moved toward the next town––Bakersfield, the next generation, the next century of spinning, flying, dazzling proof that excellence endures, that joy persists, that the game—when played with love, with legacy, with the understanding that every dribble is a demonstration of what's possible—never truly ends.
It just keeps spinning.