Search words like nandralone, EPO, testosterone, or human growth hormone in the work of the NBA’s foremost journalists. You won’t get a lot of results.
Why not? I can only tell you what happened to me: I wrote about it in 2012, and a key high-ranking NBA official went after me for it loudly, repeatedly, in cars, over coffee, and especially in front of a who’s who of reporters. I remember a couple of instances at the NBA’s Board of Governors’ meeting, in front of the NBA’s regular national reporters. It was stupid and childish. Henry’s probably doping! We should test him! This kind of talk became a staple, for me, of showing up to an NBA Finals or All-Star game. I’d bump into that guy, and he’d holler so that many people heard.
To me, that was the point: that other journalists heard so they wouldn’t get any ideas. Making it in this business requires sources, including people like that guy and his coworkers. The NBA has long managed the media with a carrot-and-stick approach. I know what it feels like to be graced with quiet “on background” meetings. A lot of those opportunities went away after my PED story. (I am proudly the most prominent NBA writer never invited to vote on NBA awards. I know why.)
Journalists live in fear of being cut out. It felt like the NBA—or at least a handful of key people there—wanted to make an example of me as a way to keep other national writers in line.
and now this is basicly same for nfl and mlb