Back in June, there wasn’t supposed to be a league at all.
The British Basketball League had collapsed. The British Basketball Federation (BBF) had revoked the league licence. And suddenly, the sport was staring into the abyss—no structure, no plan, no clear future. What followed wasn’t clean or comfortable. But it was real. The clubs pulled together, formed Super League Basketball (SLB), and kicked off a professional league on an interim licence with barely any lead time.
That fragility was obvious from the start. Kits didn’t arrive on time, and an early game between Surrey and Bristol became a colour-blind nightmare. Lower-league clubs in the SLB Cup didn’t get coverage. The league had launched, but it looked and felt temporary. Still, it was a start. And for a while, it looked like a good one.
A League Taking Shape
On the court, parity defined the early season. Before the season tipped off, Ant Rowe, Drew Lasker and Mike Tuck each picked a different club to win it all—Caledonia, Sheffield, London. Anyone could beat anyone. The product wasn’t perfect, but it was unpredictable and alive.
By Christmas, the shape of the league had started to harden. A clear top three had emerged—Leicester, London and Sheffield were pulling away, while Caledonia had fallen apart. The SLB had survived its first three months without major scandal. The biggest issue? A scoreboard graphic that kept disappearing on DAZN.
Fault Lines and Fractures
Midway through January, news began to trickle out that the SLB had quietly altered its import rules. Instead of a nine-player limit across the season, clubs would now be allowed to cycle through up to twelve. There was no press release, no statement—just confirmation on two separate podcasts that the rule had changed. The vote had passed 5–3, with one club abstaining.
The reaction was swift. Changing the rules mid-season was controversial enough. But the real issue was process. A club-led league only works when clubs feel heard. This decision was made behind closed doors, with no unity and no accountability—exposing fractures beneath the surface.
Yet days later, the SLB Trophy Final—the league’s first marquee event—showed what the SLB could be. The women’s final was close and compelling. The men’s final, though a blowout, was professionally staged. It was a day the league could point to and say “this is working”.
The BBF Moves
On 28 January, the BBF named a new group of outside investors as the “preferred bidder” for the long-term professional licence. These weren’t people already involved in the game. They had no clubs, no venues, no history in British basketball. Just money, promises, and the BBF’s backing.
The SLB pushed back. They issued a statement saying they no longer recognised the BBF’s authority and would continue as an independent league. For a moment, it looked like a reassertion of strength. The clubs, it seemed, were holding firm—even as the season kept testing them.
The Referee Crisis
In early March, Sheffield owner Vaughn Millette tweeted out team win percentages with and without referee Ed Udyanskyy. The implication was bias. Later that day, Millette clarified that he was pointing to racism, not favouritism—a claim echoed but not precisely backed up in a powerful statement from Sharks head coach Atiba Lyons the following morning.
The referees went on strike. Games were postponed. For the first time, it felt like the SLB might not finish the season.
The response was messy, but it held. The SLB issued an apology. Millette stepped down as interim chair. The referees returned for all games except Sheffield’s, which were covered by Canadian officials until an investigation was complete. The season continued. This wasn’t unity without conflict—it was conflict managed without collapse.
The GBBL Pitch
In April, the BBF made its final move—awarding a 15-year professional licence to the group of outside investors, now formally known as the GBBL. The BBF called it a landmark moment. A £15 million investment, a promise to “uplift” British basketball, and the start of something new. But it would take a month for us to learn what that “something” was.
In May, the GBBL outlined its vision—ten new franchises, high-profile investors, and vague talk of NBA Europe. A leaked investor sheet promised to move a quarter of games into “world class arenas” via regional mini-tournaments. Only one match per week would be televised. Ownership would sit with investors, not clubs. Youth development would be centralised. Community links? Unclear. The ambition is obvious but the coherence isn’t.
The SLB made its position clear in April: “All nine clubs are united in the vision to continue operating a stable and viable league for the 2025–26 SLB season and beyond.”
It’s hard to see the GBBL becoming more than a pitch deck without the credibility of the existing clubs. Whether the current SLB unity holds—and what happens next season—are the defining questions of the summer.
Down to the Wire
Despite all the noise off the court, the basketball never lost its voice. The Championship race went to the wire. London, Leicester, and Sheffield all jostling for position, every game weighted with meaning. London edged it in the final week—but the season didn’t end there.
The play-offs raised the stakes. Newcastle, worn thin by injuries, outlasted Manchester and then shocked London—a run driven by belief, defiance, and a fanbase that could feel something stirring. Leicester, as ever, found a way.
And so the final became something fitting. A meeting between the two most storied clubs in British basketball. Proof that even in a year of upheaval, some things never change.
In a season shaped by uncertainty, the basketball found clarity. The SLB didn’t just hold on. It delivered moments worth holding onto.
A League That Actually Exists
Through all the posturing, one thing has become clear. The SLB might be messy, but it’s real. Nine clubs with fans, players, coaches, and venues. Teams that have shown up every week, played games in front of crowds, and dealt with problems as they’ve come. The GBBL, by contrast, is still just words on a page.
British basketball has rarely been tidy. But it’s never been about tidiness. It’s about showing up. The SLB has done that—imperfectly, chaotically, sometimes unconvincingly. But they’ve done it.
And that’s worth a whole lot more than promises.
