Campfire Stories: When an NBA All-Star Drew a Nike Swoosh on His AND1s
And Nike Wasn't Even Paying Him
Campfire Stories: The sneaker legends that separate the ones who were there from the ones who just started paying attention. This is the first of many… stick around.
Picture this... it’s late, sneakerheads gathered around (not literally, but stay with me)... and someone says: “Yo, did I ever tell you about the time Jerry Stackhouse literally drew a Nike Swoosh on his AND1s? Mid-season. For a game. In Detroit.”
And everyone leans in, because… what the fuck?
These are the stories that get passed down. Uncle-to-nephew type shit. The kind of moments that would never, could never happen today... but back in 2001, when AND1 was second only to Nike in market share, when they had $285 million in revenue, when Vince Carter was winning dunk contests in the Tai Chi... Stack just said “nah” and grabbed a Sharpie.
The Wild West Era
This was sneaker anarchy compared to today.
The Penny Foamposite story… December 1997. Penny debuts the Royal Blue Foamposites at Madison Square Garden. Drops 23 points. The NBA notices the shoes don’t have enough black to match Orlando’s road uniform rules. David Stern threatens fines.
So what does Penny do? His equipment manager grabs electrical tape. Doesn’t stick well in the grooves. They try filling in the ridges with Sharpie. It works. Penny keeps playing in half-blacked-out Foams, tape and marker keeping him compliant with league rules.
Nike eventually released an official “Sharpie” colorway in 2015 as a tribute to sneaker lore.
But that was Penny modifying his own Nike shoes to comply with league rules.
Stack? Stack was defacing a competitor's product to promote Nike... a brand that wasn't even paying him.
The Modern Version
Fast forward to 2022... Kyrie Irving and Nike split after a decade together. His signature line had generated $2.6 billion in revenue over seven years. The Kyrie series was one of the most-worn franchises in the league... more than 60 players rocked his shoes each season.
Then it all fell apart.
After Nike cut ties in December 2022, Kyrie became a sneaker free agent. But here’s the thing... he kept wearing his old Nikes. The Kyrie 3s. The Kyrie 4s. Except he covered the Swoosh with black tape.
On the tape, he’d write messages. “I AM FREE.” “Thank you God... I am.” And on one shoe, the not-so-subtle statement: “LOGO HERE.”
This went on for months. Every game, Kyrie in his old Nikes with tape over the logo, handwritten messages declaring his independence from the brand that made him hundreds of millions.
In July 2023, he signed with ANTA. Five-year deal. Chief Creative Officer role. The tape came off... replaced with a new logo, a new brand, a fresh start.
But the tape era? That’s modern sneaker history. That’s what passing down the stories looks like in the Instagram age... except everyone saw it in 4K, it went viral before halftime, and legal teams on both sides were definitely paying attention.
Jerry Stackhouse Wasn’t Some Random Player
Before we get to the Swoosh incident, you need to understand who Stack was in 2001.
This wasn’t a bench player making a desperate plea for attention. This was Jerry Stackhouse at the absolute peak of his powers.
Coming out of North Carolina in 1995, Stack signed a lucrative deal with Fila reportedly over $7.5 million. The FILA Stackhouse 1 dropped that same year... blue and red matching his Philadelphia 76ers colors, it was a big deal. The second model was even better… all the cool kids had ‘em. He got the full signature shoe treatment alongside Grant Hill, who was selling a million pairs and making Fila legitimate competition for Nike.
But Stack eventually moved on from Fila after his contract ended around 2000. Technology wasn't keeping up. The brand was more leisure than performance. Once he got to Detroit... Stack became a sneaker free agent.
By all accounts, this was similar to the years when Kobe Bryant wore multiple brands before signing with Nike, or when Gilbert Arenas played in Dolce & Gabbana sneakers. Stack was wearing various Nikes without a formal deal.
And this is where it gets interesting... although his UNC teammate Rasheed Wallace became famous for wearing Air Force 1s during NBA games. Stack also wore the Air Force 1 High a handful of times during his time in Detroit.
Not the latest tech. Not some new performance model. The Air Force 1 High... a shoe from 1982 that had been discontinued and brought back as a retro.
Stack was averaging 29.8 points per game in the 2000-01 season. Led the entire NBA in total points scored in 2001. Set the Pistons franchise record with 57 points against the Bulls. Made back-to-back All-Star teams in 2000 and 2001. Slam was saying he was the next Michael Jordan.
This was one of the league’s elite scorers. A player that would seem like a great choice for a signature sneaker from Nike.
But in December 2001? Stack had no shoe contract.
Which makes what happened next even more wild.
December 2001 — The Silky Smooth Incident
AND1 wasn’t some scrappy upstart anymore. By 2001, they were the alternative:
$285 million in annual revenue
Second only to Nike in basketball market share
Stephon Marbury, Kevin Garnett, Latrell Sprewell, Chauncey Billups on the roster
Vince Carter’s 2000 dunk contest in Tai Chis was legendary
The Mixtape Tour was building street legends into cultural icons
The AND1 Silky Smooth dropped in 2001 as a versatile guard/forward shoe. Dual-density EVA midsole, full-grain leather, designed for indoor and outdoor use. Worn by KG, Starbury, Shawn Marion, Larry Hughes.
This wasn’t a bad shoe. This was a legitimately good basketball shoe from a brand that was genuinely threatening Nike’s dominance.
And at some point in December 2001, Jerry Stackhouse looked at his AND1 Silky Smooths and thought: These need a Swoosh.
So he drew one. With a marker. And wore them. In NBA games.
WearTesters later wrote: “Stackhouse personally pioneered the custom shoe job by slapping on a makeshift Nike logo on his pair.”
Think about that for a second.
Stack was one of the best scorers in the league. He had previously worn Filas with his own name on them. He was currently wearing Nike Air Force 1s in plenty of games because he loved them. AND1 gives him free shoes... probably hoping a player of his caliber might eventually sign with them.
And Stack draws a Swoosh on them. (Against my Sacramento Kings and the Warriors!)
Not because the shoes were bad. Not because they didn’t perform. But because there was only one brand that mattered to him.
He was promoting Nike... for free.
The International Context
Now, logo swapping wasn’t completely unheard of. In European basketball, team sponsorships often meant players had to cover or change logos. If you played for an adidas-sponsored team but wanted to wear Nikes, you’d tape over the Swoosh or marker it out. Sometimes players would even add adidas stripes to Nike shoes to comply with team contracts.
But that was international play. Different rules. Team contracts, not individual deals.
Stack was in the NBA. Playing for Detroit. As a sneaker free agent. With no obligation to anyone.
And he chose to draw a Swoosh on a competitor’s shoes.
Could You Imagine This Today?
This is campfire talk because it could never happen now.
2001 landscape:
Endorsement contracts were looser
Social media didn’t exist to catch every detail
Brands had less ironclad control
The NBA wasn’t as polished/corporate
Players could get away with wild shit
2025 landscape:
Every second is filmed in 4K
Tweets go viral before halftime
Endorsement contracts have specific language about brand representation
Nike owns the NBA uniform deal through 2037
73.5% of NBA players wear Nike or Jordan
Legal teams review everything
Players tape over logos during transitions, not to promote competitors
If Stephen Curry drew a Swoosh on his Under Armour tomorrow? The clip would have 10 million views by the third quarter. Legal teams would be in chaos. His agent’s phone would melt.
Even Kyrie... who openly feuded with Nike, who covered their logo with tape for months, who wrote “LOGO HERE” on his shoes... even Kyrie didn’t draw a competitor’s logo on his Nikes.
He covered the Swoosh. He wrote messages. He made his statement.
But he didn’t promote adidas or PUMA or ANTA while still wearing Nike shoes.
Stack did.
The Sharpie Hall of Fame
These moments are our oral history. The stories that don’t make ESPN’s Top 10. The details that prove you were there, you were paying attention, you know the lore.
Penny with the Sharpie Foams — Compliance with league rules. Equipment manager gets creative. Black tape and Sharpie turn Royal Blue Foams into uniform-legal basketball shoes. Nike eventually makes an official colorway honoring the ingenuity.
Kyrie with the taped Swoosh — Brand divorce played out in public. Eight months of black tape and handwritten declarations. “I AM FREE.” The world watches in real-time as a $2.6 billion partnership ends one Sharpie message at a time.
Stackhouse with the drawn Swoosh — Brand loyalty so strong he literally branded a competitor’s shoes. No announcement. No controversy. Just a player saying “this is who I am” with a marker.
What It Meant
Stackhouse’s Swoosh wasn’t about the AND1 Silky Smooths being inferior. They were solid shoes worn by All-Stars.
It was a declaration: “There’s only one brand that matters to me.”
And he was right.
AND1 would eventually collapse. By 2005, sold to American Sporting Goods. By 2011, sold again to Galaxy Brands. The Mixtape Tours ended. The NBA players left. The brand that was second only to Nike... faded.
Nike remains. Stronger than ever.
In hindsight, Stack’s Sharpie Swoosh was a death certificate drawn in real-time. A preview of what was coming for any brand that tried to compete with The Swoosh in basketball.
Around The Campfire
So when you’re talking sneakers with someone new... someone who wasn’t around for the early 2000s chaos... you can drop this one:
“Yo, Jerry Stackhouse once drew a Nike Swoosh on his AND1s and wore them in NBA games.”
And they’ll say “What? No way.”
And you’ll say “December 2001. Detroit Pistons. One of the league’s leading scorers. Look it up.”
That’s how sneaker history gets passed down.
Not through press releases. Not through official Nike retrospectives. But through moments so absurd, so brazen, so impossible to imagine today... that they become legend.
Penny blacking out his Foams with a marker to avoid fines.
Kyrie covering Swooshes with tape and writing “I AM FREE.”
Stackhouse drawing a Swoosh on his AND1s because that’s where his loyalty lived (or maybe because he really wanted a Nike deal).
The wild shit that used to happen when nobody was watching.
Or in Kyrie’s case, when everyone was watching but the rules had changed.
These are our campfire stories.
The moments that separate the ones who know from the ones who just started paying attention.
And if you’ve got your own... if you remember seeing Stack in those marked-up Silky Smooths, or Penny with the electrical tape and Sharpie, or the first time Kyrie covered that Swoosh... then you’re part of the oral tradition.
Pass it down.
Tell the stories.
Because in 20 years, someone’s gonna ask “Did players really used to do that?”
And you’ll lean in and say... “Let me tell you about Jerry Stackhouse.”
I’m Nick Engvall, and I’ve been writing about sneakers and culture for over two decades, from building Eastbay’s first blog to being employee #9 at StockX. I run Sneaker History (website and podcast) and write The Sneaker Newsletter... sneaker lore, business breakdowns, and the stories that connect what we wear to who we are.