Asafa Powell, one of Jamaica’s most decorated sprinters and a former world record holder in the 100m, stirred national debate this past weekend with comments on social media in which he vowed not to allow his sons to represent Jamaica unless the country’s support system for athletes changes.

“Honestly guys, if the support system don’t change, my kids not running for Jamaica,” Powell said, responding to social media buzz following a viral video of his toddler winning a school race. With a Canadian and Ghanaian mother, Powell noted, the options for his sons are open.

His remarks have triggered passionate reactions — some supportive, others accusing him of being unpatriotic. But Powell is not wrong. In fact, his central argument is valid: Jamaica has consistently failed to develop meaningful long-term systems to support athletes once they reach or even pass their peak.

The unfortunate truth is that Jamaica’s political and sporting leadership and citizens as well, have never embraced sports as a viable economic engine. Sporting excellence is treated more like national spectacle — a Carnival-esque celebration of talent — rather than a sector that requires infrastructure, investment, and sustainable planning.

I have never once heard a prime minister stand up in Parliament and speak about investment in sports infrastructure. If it did happen, I might have missed it.

It’s a well-worn fact: during Powell’s heyday, Jamaica was reeling from rising debt. From 2004 to 2012, the country's debt-to-GDP ratio ballooned from 52 per cent to 143.9 per cent. Against that backdrop, it’s no surprise the country had little to offer athletes beyond symbolic recognition, national awards, and the occasional cash grant.

Today, the Sports Development Foundation (SDF) is tasked with supporting over 40 sports federations — yet its annual budget barely stretches past J$600 million. Do the math, and the result is predictable: limited scholarships, inadequate training facilities, minimal athlete pensions, and no national strategy for life after sport.

It’s not just the government. The Jamaica Athletics Administrative Association (JAAA), long the face of Jamaican track and field, has also failed to provide adequate structures for the very athletes whose success gives the organization relevance on the world stage. Too often, deals are signed, meets are organized, and medals are counted, while the athletes themselves — especially those not signed to major global brands — go under-supported.

Powell, like many before and after him, turned professional and earned through Nike and Puma deals. But not every athlete is Asafa Powell. Emerging talent struggles to stay afloat, let alone rise.

And here lies the uncomfortable truth: Powell and others of his stature also shoulder some responsibility. For all his achievements and global standing, Powell has largely remained on the periphery of meaningful sporting reform in Jamaica. While athletes like Michael Frater have taken executive roles within the JAAA to push for change, Powell has not publicly aligned himself with such efforts.

He has the platform, the credibility, and the experience to agitate for the very reforms he now demands — yet we have not seen him use those tools in that way. Advocacy is more than a tweet; it requires action, engagement, and leadership.

Suggesting that one’s children will not run for Jamaica unless reforms are made may reflect frustration, but it also borders on escapism. Reform is never easy. It doesn’t come from opting out — it comes from leaning in. If Powell wants a better Jamaica for his sons, his voice would be more powerful as a force of influence within the system rather than apart from it.

Let’s also remember: his children may not even choose to pursue track and field. Their passion could be music, medicine, or software engineering. National representation should never be used as leverage in an argument — especially not one rooted in hypotheticals.

Asafa Powell’s comments should not be dismissed. They’re a reminder that beneath the glory of gold medals and world records lies a system struggling to care for its most valuable asset — its athletes. Jamaica needs to invest in athlete welfare, post-career planning, training infrastructure, and financial support.

But Powell, and others like him, must also recognize their power to shape that future. If the system is broken, it must be challenged — not abandoned.

Jamaica’s next generation of athletes deserves both inspiration and advocacy. Let’s hope Powell and others like him, give them both.