TL;DR

• Former NBA player Jason Collins revealed he has Stage 4 glioblastoma, an aggressive and often deadly brain cancer.
• Collins said the diagnosis came after sudden cognitive issues and rapid tumor growth.
• He is undergoing radiation, Avastin, and experimental targeted chemotherapy in Singapore.
• Collins connected his disclosure to the same honesty behind coming out in 2013.
• He hopes current treatments may help future patients even if they cannot save him.

NBA Pioneer Faces Devastating Diagnosis: Jason Collins Reveals Stage 4 Glioblastoma

The trailblazer who changed basketball is now fighting for his life

Jason Collins — the former NBA center who shattered sports history in 2013 when he became the first active player in the league to come out as gay — has revealed he is facing a new and far more personal battle: Stage 4 glioblastoma, one of the most aggressive and lethal forms of brain cancer.

In a deeply honest and emotional message shared through ESPN, Collins explained why he’s chosen to speak publicly now. Months earlier, his family had issued a vague statement acknowledging he had a brain tumor. The truth, Collins says, was far more serious — and moved too quickly for him to comprehend at the time.

“It came on incredibly fast,” he said. Now, after beginning treatment and regaining some clarity, he wants the world to hear directly from him. “Your life is so much better when you show up as your true self… This is me. This is what I’m dealing with.”

A cancer as aggressive as the man who refuses to give up

Glioblastoma is no ordinary diagnosis. The Mayo Clinic describes it as an extremely aggressive brain cancer with no cure. Collins’ form is even more dangerous — “multiforme,” spreading through his brain like tentacles.

He described it with brutal candor: “Imagine a monster… spreading across the underside of my brain the width of a baseball.”

Within weeks, doctors warned, the tumor would have expanded beyond available space inside his skull. Without intervention, he might have survived only six weeks to three months.

This is the villain he’s fighting.

The symptoms no athlete wants to see

It began with what he brushed off as “weird symptoms”: trouble focusing, disorientation, and slipping memory. Like many athletes, he tried to push through it.

But when he couldn’t pack his bags for his annual trip to watch the U.S. Open, he and his husband, Brunson Green, knew something was dangerously wrong. After just five minutes in a CT scanner, techs pulled him out and rushed him to further evaluation.

Within hours, he slipped into a frightening mental fog. His loved ones described him as confused, unable to communicate normally, even losing interest in tennis — a passion of his — and suddenly preferring quiet Korean soap operas he couldn’t understand. It was clear something catastrophic was unfolding inside his brain.

The fight: radiation, targeted therapy, hope

Collins has thrown himself into treatment with the same determination that defined his groundbreaking NBA career. He began radiation, which helped him regain some cognitive ability. He takes Avastin to slow tumor growth. And he is now receiving cutting-edge treatment in Singapore: targeted chemotherapy using EDVs, microscopic delivery vessels designed to smuggle cancer-fighting agents past the brain’s natural defenses.

It’s an experimental frontier, one offering glimmers of hope where traditional treatments hit limits. The goal is to buy enough time for a bespoke immunotherapy — personalized to Collins’ cancer — to be created.

“My plan is to hit this thing in ways it’s never been hit,” he said. And in a moment of humility typical of Collins, he added that even if the treatments can’t save him, “I feel good thinking that it might help someone else who gets a diagnosis like this.”

A legacy that transcends basketball

Collins didn’t just make LGBTQ sports history — he helped open the door for countless queer athletes who followed. His coming-out moment was seismic, proving that visibility and authenticity could exist unapologetically in one of the world’s most macho sports leagues.

Now he’s demonstrating a different kind of courage: radical transparency in the face of a devastating diagnosis. In sharing his story, he is once again giving voice to people who often feel unseen — cancer patients grappling with fear, grief, medical uncertainty, and the vulnerability of being human.

His message echoes the one he offered LGBTQ youth more than a decade ago: Show up as yourself. You are not alone.