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Clemente Amanza: Mark Daigneault on Nikola Topic doing pregame warmups while still going through cancer treatment: “He’s doing a great job navigating what’s obviously a tough circumstance. Despite the fact your body goes through hell in that situation, he’s still conditioning himself.”

NBA Courtside: Victor Wembanyama opens up about the moment he found out he had blood clots "It was 5 minutes of total breakdown probably. Obviously crying, sadness and feeling the fragility of life. Its the best example life is sort, career is short and it can end just like this. There is no time to waste"
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NBA on ESPN: Former NBA player, Jason Collins, was diagnosed with Stage 4 Glioblastoma this summer. Jason and his husband, Brunson, traveled to Singapore to try an experimental treatment that will give him more time. @ramonashelburne was able to sit down with him as he talks about his journey ❤️
Former NBA player, Jason Collins, was diagnosed with Stage 4 Glioblastoma this summer. Jason and his husband, Brunson, traveled to Singapore to try an experimental treatment that will give him more time. @ramonashelburne was able to sit down with him as he talks about his… pic.twitter.com/WrkQesnNwJ
— NBA on ESPN (@ESPNNBA) December 11, 2025
Jason Collins: A few months ago, my family released a short statement saying I had a brain tumor. It was simple, but intentionally vague. They did that to protect my privacy while I was mentally unable to speak for myself and my loved ones were trying to understand what we were dealing with. But now it's time for people to hear directly from me. I have Stage 4 glioblastoma, one of the deadliest forms of brain cancer. It came on incredibly fast.
In May I married the love of my life, Brunson Green, at a ceremony in Austin, Texas, that couldn't have been more perfect. In August, we were supposed to go to the US Open, just as every year, but when the car came to take us to the airport, I was nowhere near ready. And for the first time in decades, we missed the flight because I couldn't stay focused to pack. I had been having weird symptoms like this for a week or two, but unless something is really wrong, I'm going to push through. I'm an athlete. Something was really wrong, though. I was in the CT machine at UCLA for all of five minutes before the tech pulled me out and said they were going to have me see a specialist. I've had enough CTs in my life to know they last longer than five minutes and whatever the tech had seen on the first images had to be bad. According to my family, in hours, my mental clarity, short-term memory and comprehension disappeared -- turning into an NBA player's version of "Dory" from "Finding Nemo." Over the next few weeks we would find out just how bad it was.
Because my tumor is unresectable, going solely with the "standard of care" -- radiation and TMZ -- the average prognosis is only 11 to 14 months. If that's all the time I have left, I'd rather spend it trying a course of treatment that might one day be a new standard of care for everyone. I'm fortunate to be in a financial position to go wherever in the world I need to go to get treatment. So if what I'm doing doesn't save me, I feel good thinking that it might help someone else who gets a diagnosis like this one day. After I came out, someone I really respect told me that my choice to live openly could help someone who I might never meet. I've held onto that for years. And if I can do that again now, then that matters.
About a week before I went into the hospital, I fell upstairs at our house in Los Angeles. I couldn't figure out how to turn off this cooler we have on our bed. There's an app, but the tumor was clearly affecting my brain by then. So rather than use the app, I bent down, tried to unplug it from the wall and fell. I caught myself in a plank position and just stayed there. I couldn't figure out how to get myself up, how to put my knee down and balance to push myself up. I couldn't do that for some reason. That was very scary.
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