News that four elite Jamaican athletes—two of whose identities have already been confirmed—have opted to switch allegiance to Turkiye has struck a raw nerve across the island. With reports of each receiving a staggering US$500,000 signing bonus, monthly stipends, and potential six-figure medal bonuses, the lines between patriotism and pragmatism are being redrawn in stark fashion.

For many Jamaicans, this development feels like a betrayal. The black, green and gold is not just a flag—it’s a symbol of pride, resilience, and a track and field legacy that has punched above its weight for decades. The decision of these athletes to walk away from Jamaica is seen by some as the ultimate disloyalty. After all, it was on Jamaican soil, through its system and culture, that they were nurtured into world-class talents. Shouldn’t that history warrant their continued loyalty?

But here’s the other side—the one that’s harder to accept but no less valid.

Track and field, unlike many major global sports, does not guarantee long-term wealth. A handful of superstars might land multi-year shoe deals, but those contracts are typically structured with low base payments and aggressive performance incentives. One injury, one poor season, and the bottom can fall out. For athletes in their prime, especially those not named Bolt or Fraser-Pryce, financial security is far from guaranteed.

So when an opportunity arises offering half a million U.S. dollars up front, consistent income, and performance bonuses that could potentially transform not just an athlete’s life but their entire family’s future—it’s not betrayal. It’s business. It’s survival. It’s a decision that, in the cold, hard light of day, many of us might make if we were in their spikes.

Yet, while their decision is understandable, it raises troubling questions for Jamaica’s track and field future.

If Turkiye—or any other country—is willing to put this kind of money on the table, what’s to stop a full-blown talent raid? Today, it's four. Tomorrow, it could be 10. Then 20. And if the best of Jamaica’s talent pool begins to defect en masse, what becomes of the island’s hard-earned global reputation as a sprinting powerhouse? What happens to the pride we feel every time a Jamaican lines up at an Olympic final, flag stitched proudly on their chest?

This is not just about the athletes. It's about the system that supports—or fails to support—them. Jamaica has always relied heavily on passion, pride, and raw talent. But in an era of hyper-commercialized sport, that may no longer be enough. If the country wants to keep its best athletes under its flag, it must find ways to invest in their futures—not just emotionally, but economically.

Perhaps this moment will serve as a wake-up call for the powers that be. Jamaica needs a long-term athlete retention strategy—one that includes better funding, career transition programs, and greater support structures. The price of losing our stars is far greater than just missing medals. It’s losing a part of who we are.

For now, the debate will rage on. Some will condemn these athletes as traitors. Others will applaud them for taking control of their destinies. But one thing is clear: this is a crossroads moment for Jamaican track and field. And how we respond now will shape the legacy of the next generation.

Leighton Levy is a veteran sports journalist and broadcaster. The views expressed here are his own.

Opinion | The Price of Allegiance: Jamaica’s Talent Drain to Turkiye Raises Alarming Questions

News that four elite Jamaican athletes—two of whose identities have already been confirmed—have opted to switch allegiance to Turkiye has struck a raw nerve across the island. With reports of each receiving a staggering US$500,000 signing bonus, monthly stipends, and potential six-figure medal bonuses, the lines between patriotism and pragmatism are being redrawn in stark fashion.

For many Jamaicans, this development feels like a betrayal. The black, green and gold is not just a flag—it’s a symbol of pride, resilience, and a track and field legacy that has punched above its weight for decades. The decision of these athletes to walk away from Jamaica is seen by some as the ultimate disloyalty. After all, it was on Jamaican soil, through its system and culture, that they were nurtured into world-class talents. Shouldn’t that history warrant their continued loyalty?

But here’s the other side—the one that’s harder to accept but no less valid.

Track and field, unlike many major global sports, does not guarantee long-term wealth. A handful of superstars might land multi-year shoe deals, but those contracts are typically structured with low base payments and aggressive performance incentives. One injury, one poor season, and the bottom can fall out. For athletes in their prime, especially those not named Bolt or Fraser-Pryce, financial security is far from guaranteed.

So when an opportunity arises offering half a million U.S. dollars up front, consistent income, and performance bonuses that could potentially transform not just an athlete’s life but their entire family’s future—it’s not betrayal. It’s business. It’s survival. It’s a decision that, in the cold, hard light of day, many of us might make if we were in their spikes.

Yet, while their decision is understandable, it raises troubling questions for Jamaica’s track and field future.

If Turkiye—or any other country—is willing to put this kind of money on the table, what’s to stop a full-blown talent raid? Today, it's four. Tomorrow, it could be ten. Then twenty. And if the best of Jamaica’s talent pool begins to defect en masse, what becomes of the island’s hard-earned global reputation as a sprinting powerhouse? What happens to the pride we feel every time a Jamaican lines up at an Olympic final, flag stitched proudly on their chest?

This is not just about the athletes. It's about the system that supports—or fails to support—them. Jamaica has always relied heavily on passion, pride, and raw talent. But in an era of hyper-commercialized sport, that may no longer be enough. If the country wants to keep its best athletes under its flag, it must find ways to invest in their futures—not just emotionally, but economically.

Perhaps this moment will serve as a wake-up call for the powers that be. Jamaica needs a long-term athlete retention strategy—one that includes better funding, career transition programs, and greater support structures. The price of losing our stars is far greater than just missing medals. It’s losing a part of who we are.

For now, the debate will rage on. Some will condemn these athletes as traitors. Others will applaud them for taking control of their destinies. But one thing is clear: this is a crossroads moment for Jamaican track and field. And how we respond now will shape the legacy of the next generation.

Leighton Levy is a veteran sports journalist and broadcaster. The views expressed here are his own.