South Carolina women’s basketball coach Dawn Staley said she would have taken the New York Knicks head coaching job if it had been offered.

Staley, 55, interviewed for the position before the Knicks hired Mike Brown in July.

“I would have had to do it. Not just for me. For women. To break (that door) open,” Staley said on the “Post Moves” podcast. “I would have had to. It’s the New York Knicks. I’m from Philly. But it’s the freaking New York Knicks.”

Almost immediately, her statement fractured opinion among fans and fellow coaches. Some hailed her as a visionary ready to break another barrier in a sport still dominated by men at the highest levels. Others accused her of turning her back on the very game that made her a legend. For decades, Dawn Staley has been the torchbearer for women’s basketball, leading the Gamecocks to multiple NCAA championships, elevating female athletes into household names, and serving as a role model for countless young girls who see themselves in her story. To hear her say she’d jump to the men’s game “instantly” hit some supporters like a betrayal.

Yet, to understand the complexity of Staley’s comments, one must first understand the unique space she occupies in basketball culture. A product of the tough Philadelphia streets where grit and competitiveness are badges of honor, Staley’s entire journey has been defined by proving herself in spaces that were not designed for her success. From her days as a fiery point guard at Virginia, to her tenure as a WNBA pioneer, to her groundbreaking transformation of South Carolina’s program into a dynasty, she’s made a career out of rewriting expectations. The NBA, in that sense, represents not a betrayal of women’s basketball—but the next frontier of the same battle she’s been fighting all along.

Still, her words struck a nerve. Critics argue that her enthusiasm for an NBA job exposes a larger issue within women’s sports: the persistent notion that the pinnacle of success still lies within the men’s arena. Some read her willingness to “snatch” the Knicks job as validation of the patriarchal hierarchy that undervalues women’s leagues, suggesting that even the most successful female coaches secretly aspire to male-dominated platforms. For many advocates, that sting was real. How could the face of women’s basketball, the woman who turned down previous WNBA coaching offers to stay loyal to college ball, admit she’d bolt for the NBA in a heartbeat?

South Carolina Gamecocks head coach Dawn Staley reacts during the semifinal of the NCAA Women’s Tournament against the Texas Longhorns at Amalie Arena on April 4, 2025, in Tampa, Florida. (Ray Seebeck/Imagn Images)

Staley was one of many candidates the Knicks interviewed for their head coaching vacancy. The Knicks also interviewed former Charlotte Hornets coach James Borrego, former Memphis Grizzlies coach Taylor Jenkins and Minnesota Timberwolves assistant Micah Nori.

Staley said she thought she did well in the interview but questioned whether she hurt her chances by asking the Knicks how they would handle the impact of hiring the NBA’s first female head coach.

Yet she also recognized the gravity of what that move would entail. Staley revealed that during her interview with Knicks executives, she asked a pointed question: “If you hire me as the first female head coach in NBA history, how does that affect your job? Because it will.” It was an audacious inquiry that tested whether the organization truly grasped the magnitude of what hiring her would mean. The energy in the room, she admitted later, shifted after that. “I think I shot myself in the foot,” she said, half-laughing, half-serious. That moment illustrated not just the cultural gap between readiness and rhetoric, but the very reason she wanted the job—to force institutions to confront the discomfort of change.

The aftermath of her revelation has been nothing short of explosive. In sports talk shows and online debates, the question of whether Staley “betrayed” women’s basketball for men’s glory has become a viral flashpoint. Some fans accused her of hypocrisy, pointing out that she once expressed no desire to coach in the WNBA. Others rallied behind her, arguing that true equality means women should be free to pursue whatever positions they’re qualified for, regardless of gendered expectations. The divide reveals a deeper tension that has simmered beneath the surface of professional sports for decades: are women’s leagues a destination in themselves, or still viewed as stepping stones toward men’s leagues?

For Staley, the question misses the point. In her view, leadership and basketball knowledge are universal skills—not gendered commodities. She’s often said that coaching men doesn’t require a different playbook, just a different cultural approach. “Basketball is basketball,” she once remarked. “The court doesn’t change, the rim is still ten feet, and players still want to be led.” Her confidence in that belief reflects the growing body of evidence that female coaches are just as capable of commanding respect in male locker rooms as their male counterparts. The NBA, however, has been slow to embrace that reality, even as women thrive as assistants, scouts, and player-development staffers.

“How, if you hired me as the first female head coach in the NBA, would it impact your daily job? Because it would,” Staley said. “You’re going to be asked questions that you don’t have to answer if you’re a male coach. There’s going to be the media and all this other stuff that you have to deal with that you didn’t have to deal with and don’t have to deal with when you hire a male. That got them to thinking, ‘Maybe she’s right.’”

South Carolina Gamecocks head coach Dawn Staley during the national championship game against the Connecticut Huskies at Amalie Arena on April 6, 2025, in Tampa, Florida. (Nathan Ray Seebeck/Imagn Images)

She said she felt the energy change after her questions.

Her supporters point out that such moves can have a “rising tide” effect. If a woman succeeds as an NBA head coach, it not only validates the presence of women in the sport—it challenges the very structure that keeps women’s leagues underfunded and underappreciated. Imagine, they argue, a generation of young girls seeing a woman strategize on an NBA sideline against legends like Gregg Popovich or Erik Spoelstra. The psychological impact alone could rewrite how female leadership in sports is perceived. For Staley, that’s the true prize—not personal fame, but progress.

Still, there’s no denying that her admission carries emotional weight for her current players and the women’s basketball community at large. South Carolina fans have come to see her as more than a coach; she’s an institution. The thought of her walking away—even hypothetically—stings deeply. For years, she’s embodied the promise that women’s basketball could be a self-sustaining ecosystem, not a subordinate to the men’s game. If its most visible ambassador left for the NBA, what message would that send to the next generation? It’s a painful question, but also a necessary one.

In truth, the real betrayal would not be Staley leaving women’s basketball—it would be a society that still makes her feel she has to choose between ambition and loyalty. For too long, women in sports have been boxed into false binaries: success versus solidarity, leadership versus femininity, visibility versus belonging. Staley’s confession exposed that tension with brutal honesty. She didn’t say she wants to leave women’s basketball—she said she refuses to be limited by it. That distinction is everything.

The reaction also underscores how far the industry still has to go in normalizing women in positions of authority across all levels of sport. Until a woman can take an NBA head coaching job without the world framing it as betrayal or novelty, true equality remains unrealized. The path forward will require more than symbolism—it will demand cultural endurance, institutional courage, and a fan base willing to see leadership, not gender.

“So, I shot myself in the foot by being inquisitive and asking all those darn questions,” Staley said.

University of South Carolina women’s basketball coach Dawn Staley answers a question during the University of Mount Union’s Schooler Lecture speaker series on April 23, 2025, in Alliance, Ohio. (IMAGN)

Staley is one of the most successful college basketball coaches of all time. She has won three national championships, reached seven Final Fours and been named AP Coach of the Year twice.

When Dawn Staley speaks, the basketball world listens. The South Carolina Gamecocks legend, Olympic gold medalist, and multi–time national championship coach has spent her entire career shaping the narrative of women’s basketball. But recently, she ignited a cultural firestorm with one unfiltered confession: if the New York Knicks had offered her their vacant head coaching position, she would have taken it “instantly.” Those few words—delivered with her characteristic candor—have sent tremors through both the WNBA and NCAA landscapes, sparking a fierce debate about loyalty, opportunity, and the lingering gender divide in professional sports.

The confession came during an interview where Staley reflected on her discussions with the Knicks organization earlier this year. She admitted that she’d seriously entertained the idea of crossing over into the NBA, and more strikingly, that she would have said yes without hesitation. “If they had offered me the job,” she said, “I would’ve had to take it. It’s the Knicks. It’s history.” Her answer was not wrapped in hesitation, nor softened by diplomacy. It was a declaration—an acknowledgment of ambition, legacy, and a desire to push boundaries that the sport has long avoided confronting.

The truth, as always with Staley, is layered. Her interest in the Knicks job wasn’t rooted in ego or disdain for women’s basketball—it was about evolution. In her interview, she emphasized the historical weight of the opportunity. Coaching an NBA team as a woman isn’t simply a promotion; it’s a seismic cultural event. No woman has ever been a permanent head coach in the NBA. Several, like Becky Hammon and Teresa Weatherspoon, have come close as assistants, and Hammon herself made history by coaching portions of an NBA game for the San Antonio Spurs. But the glass ceiling still stands unshattered. For Staley, taking that job wouldn’t have been about leaving women behind—it would’ve been about dragging the entire sport forward.

It’s not just the NBA’s hesitation that frustrates many observers—it’s the hypocrisy. League executives often praise diversity and inclusion, yet when the moment comes to make a truly historic hire, they retreat behind vague concerns about “fit” or “experience.” Staley’s interview exposed this gap between progressivism in words and progressivism in action. The Knicks may have wanted to signal their openness to hiring a woman, but Staley’s pointed questions forced them to reckon with what that decision would actually demand: media firestorms, fan skepticism, and institutional change. It’s easier, after all, to interview a woman than to empower one.

Even among fellow coaches, reactions to Staley’s comments were mixed. Some quietly admired her honesty, acknowledging that any competitive coach, male or female, would jump at the chance to lead an NBA franchise as storied as the Knicks. Others worried her candor could make future female candidates seem opportunistic rather than committed to women’s basketball. But perhaps that’s the deeper cultural bias at play—men are allowed to be ambitious; women are expected to be loyal. When a male college coach leaves for the NBA, it’s called “career progression.” When a female coach even considers the same move, it’s painted as abandonment.

The irony is that Dawn Staley has arguably done more for women’s basketball than anyone of her generation. She’s elevated South Carolina into a global brand, producing stars like A’ja Wilson and Aliyah Boston, whose impact reaches well beyond the hardwood. She’s one of the few college coaches whose voice carries national weight, capable of shifting how society discusses gender equity and representation. That’s why her hypothetical NBA jump feels so charged: it’s not about one job—it’s about ownership over the narrative of what success looks like for a woman in sports.

But Staley herself remains unfazed by the backlash. She’s built her career on confronting skepticism head-on. From being told she was too small to play Division I, to critics who doubted her ability to recruit at an elite level, she’s proved her doubters wrong at every turn. The NBA speculation, she insists, doesn’t diminish her love for women’s basketball. “This isn’t about leaving,” she clarified in a follow-up conversation. “It’s about leading. If a door opens that’s never been opened, someone has to walk through it.”

For now, Staley remains firmly in Columbia, continuing her mission of dominance with the Gamecocks. Her team remains a juggernaut, her recruiting touch unmatched, and her influence spreading across generations. But the door to the NBA conversation will not close easily. Every time a franchise opens a coaching search, her name will resurface, her legacy will be revisited, and the same question will echo: is the NBA finally ready?

Some insiders believe it’s only a matter of time. The league has been slowly diversifying its coaching pool, and players themselves—many of whom grew up idolizing Staley—are increasingly vocal in their support of women coaches. “She knows the game,” one veteran said. “If you can coach, you can coach. Period.” That sentiment reflects a cultural shift among players, even if ownership and front offices remain cautious.

As for Staley, her impact transcends whichever sidelines she stands on. Whether leading college athletes in Columbia or hypothetically orchestrating plays at Madison Square Garden, her influence radiates from the same core: excellence, accountability, and unapologetic leadership. She’s long said that she doesn’t just want to win games—she wants to change lives. And maybe that’s why her confession resonated so powerfully. It wasn’t just a coach dreaming aloud—it was a leader daring to imagine a world where ambition isn’t bound by gender.

In the end, Dawn Staley’s statement may prove less about what she would do and more about what the rest of the sports world will do next. Her hypothetical leap to the NBA challenges every league, institution, and fan to examine their own comfort zones. It’s a mirror held up to a system that applauds diversity in theory but hesitates in practice. And while her critics continue to debate whether her words were bold or blasphemous, one truth remains unshakable: she has already changed the game.

Maybe one day she’ll change another.

Until then, the basketball world continues to buzz—half in admiration, half in anxiety—over the woman who dared to say she’d snatch the Knicks job “instantly.” Whether or not that opportunity ever comes, Dawn Staley has already done what great leaders do best: force us to ask uncomfortable questions, and in doing so, move the game forward.