In a move that’s sending shockwaves through the NBA and beyond, Boston Celtics superstar Jayson Tatum has refused to back down from his pointed eulogy for slain conservative activist Charlie Kirk, declaring amid a torrent of backlash that “I stand by this. Be kind—now more than ever.” The 27-year-old All-Star, fresh off leading the Celtics to another Eastern Conference Finals appearance last season, has transformed a personal reflection on Kirk’s tragic assassination into a national lightning rod, pitting his massive fanbase against itself and raising questions about whether this is principled courage or a self-inflicted wound to his squeaky-clean image.
It all began two weeks ago, on September 10, when Kirk—the fiery 31-year-old founder of Turning Point USA—was gunned down in what authorities described as a politically motivated hit. Surveillance footage captured the suspect, later identified as a 28-year-old with ties to far-left activist groups, limping away from the scene with a concealed rifle. Bullet casings etched with anti-conservative slurs pointed to premeditation, and leaked messages between the shooter and an alleged accomplice revealed a chilling plot fueled by ideological rage. Kirk, a relentless critic of “woke” culture and a key architect of young Republican mobilization, leaves behind a wife, two young children, and a movement that has mobilized millions on college campuses.
Tatum, known more for his silky mid-range game than political hot takes, broke his usual silence the day after the shooting with a now-infamous X post: “If you want people to speak kindly after you’re gone, speak kindly while you’re alive.” The message, laced with subtext about Kirk’s often combative rhetoric on issues like LGBTQ+ rights and racial equity, struck like a buzzer-beater in overtime. It amassed over 5 million views in hours, drawing praise from progressives who saw it as a subtle rebuke of Kirk’s legacy, but swift condemnation from conservatives who branded it tone-deaf and opportunistic.
He could have let it fade. He could have deleted the post, issued a boilerplate condolence, and refocused on preseason drills at TD Garden. Instead, as critics from both sides piled on—conservative podcaster Brandon “Officer” Tatum, a close Kirk ally, called it “a slap in the face to a brother who fought for all of us”—Tatum doubled down. In a raw, unfiltered follow-up interview with ESPN’s Stephen A. Smith on Tuesday, the Duke alum leaned in: “Look, Charlie Kirk said a lot of things that hurt people. I’m not celebrating his death—that’s not me. But if we’re gonna mourn him now, why not push for the kindness he sometimes lacked? I stand by this. Be kind—now more than ever.” The clip has since gone viral, racking up 12 million views and spawning endless memes, from Photoshopped images of Tatum dunking on Kirk’s iconic red MAGA hat to boycott calls from Celtics diehards in the heartland.
The fallout has been brutal and bifurcated. On one flank, liberal fans and athletes like Baltimore Ravens QB Lamar Jackson have rallied behind Tatum, with Jackson tweeting, “Celebrating the death of someone you don’t share the same beliefs as is wild. Seeing it play out in real time is disgusting.” Jackson’s words echoed a broader sentiment among progressives, who view Tatum’s stance as a rare athlete’s voice cutting through the post-assassination grief porn. Even across the aisle, independent voices like real estate mogul Ja’Mal Green weighed in, urging unity: “I didn’t agree with much about Charlie Kirk but today was a hit to all those who are independent thinkers… Rest in peace to that brother.”
Yet the backlash from the right has been ferocious. Officer Tatum, who collaborated with Kirk on events like the first Black Leadership Summit at the White House, unleashed a tearful tirade on his podcast, accusing detractors of twisting the tragedy for clout: “Charlie ain’t got a racist bone in his body! The white man y’all calling racist was the one who wanted to galvanize black leaders.” In a separate episode, he compared Kirk favorably to George Floyd, blasting liberals for hypocrisy: “Charlie Kirk was a much better man than George Floyd!” Mississippi Governor Tate Reeves, a Kirk supporter, decried the shooting as emblematic of “the left’s” embrace of violence, implicitly lumping Tatum’s words into the fray: “The left has decided that assassination and violence is their response to debate.” Even former Trump communications director Anthony Scaramucci, no stranger to controversy, offered measured condolences while noting the “terrible tragedy” of politicizing Kirk’s death.
Within Celtics Nation, the divide is visceral. TD Garden chants of “Ta-tum! Ta-tum!” have morphed into dueling hashtags: #StandWithJT versus #BoycottTatum. Season ticket holders in liberal strongholds like Cambridge are doubling down on loyalty, while rural Massachusetts fans threaten to burn their green jerseys. NBA Commissioner Adam Silver, caught in the crossfire, issued a vague statement emphasizing “unity in times of grief” but stopped short of rebuking Tatum, mindful of the league’s progressive tilt post-George Floyd. Off the court, endorsement deals hang in the balance—Tatum’s Jordan Brand pact, worth north of $20 million annually, could face scrutiny if conservative boycotts gain traction.
For Tatum, a Missouri native raised in a working-class family, this isn’t uncharted territory. Back in 2021, he publicly clashed with Kirk over the conservative’s harsh criticism of Simone Biles’ mental health withdrawal from the Tokyo Olympics, tweeting, “Is it that hard to be supportive and empathetic to what others are going through?” That dust-up was a blip; this feels seismic. Insiders whisper of internal Celtics turmoil, with coach Joe Mazzulla—a devout Christian with his own conservative leanings— reportedly urging Tatum to “let the game speak.” Yet the forward, averaging 28.5 points last season, seems resolute, telling reporters post-practice: “I’m an athlete, not an activist. But silence on this? That’s not who I am.”
As the 2025-26 season tips off next month, all eyes are on whether Tatum’s defiance galvanizes his legacy as a voice for empathy or torpedoes it amid America’s deepening cultural chasm. Will fans forgive a superstar who dares to demand kindness in the face of death? Or has he crossed an unforgivable line, turning green glory into scarlet controversy? One thing’s certain: in a league built on redemption arcs, Jayson Tatum’s next chapter is just beginning—and it’s already rewriting the script.
