Over five decades ago, American sociologist C. Wright Mills famously wrote
The Power Elite, which asserted that a minute sliver of the population—the elite—held a tremendously disproportionate influence over the decision-making in the military, corporate, and political realms.
Now, you may or may not entirely agree with the validity of Mills’ thesis. But if we apply Mills’ notion to the world of sports, the type of person he had in mind was William Wesley.
Or maybe you know Wesley simply as World Wide Wes.
Likely you don’t know him at all.
But despite his relatively low profile, you can safely bet that all 30
NBA owners are keenly acquainted with Mr. Wesley, and they are keeping a close eye on his movements.
Even if nobody is quite sure what he does or why he is so damn powerful.
Here’s what I gather—through the smoke and mirrors—derived in part from an uncommonly insightful and foreshadowing
GQ profile on Wes, as he is affectionately referred to, from three summers ago.
Wesley is like a modern-day sports’ Forrest Gump, magically popping up at championship celebrations from Cowboy Super Bowls to Miami Football National Championships, to Team USA practices in 2004, to the floor during the infamous Malice at the Palace.