IShowSpeed,The American YouTuber, known for his explosive energy and millions of followers, had been racing athletes across the globe—from Olympic champions to Premier League footballers. His videos racked up tens of millions of views. The proposition seemed simple: a quick race, massive exposure, viral fame.
But Omanyala, Africa’s fastest man with a personal best of 9.77 seconds in the 100 meters, saw something different in the proposal. He saw his body—honed through years of grueling training, early morning track sessions in Nairobi, and calculated nutrition plans. He saw his career—built on podium finishes, sponsorship deals, and the respect of the athletics community. And he saw an offer that didn’t match the value of either.
“I can’t be paid in streams and likes,” Omanyala would later tell reporters, his tone firm but not angry. It was a statement of principle, not pride.
IShowSpeed’s racing challenges had become internet phenomena. He’d faced Noah Lyles, the Olympic champion, in casual sprint showdowns. He’d challenged footballers on pitches around the world. Each video generated millions in ad revenue, exponentially growing his brand. For Speed, whose real name is Darren Watkins Jr., these races were content—high-energy, shareable moments that fed the algorithm.
But for the athletes involved, the equation was more complex. While the exposure was real, so were the risks. A professional sprinter’s body is their instrument, calibrated for peak performance during specific competitive windows. An informal race, even a seemingly casual one, carries injury risk. A pulled hamstring for a viral video could mean missing championship meets worth tens of thousands in prize money and sponsorships.
Omanyala understood this calculation intimately. As an African athlete competing on the global stage, he’d fought for every sponsorship, every appearance fee, every moment of recognition. The athletics economy, unlike the creator economy, operates on tangible metrics: times, medals, rankings. Viral moments don’t pay training bills
When Omanyala declined the race without financial compensation, he wasn’t rejecting IShowSpeed personally. He was making a broader statement about the professional athletics industry and how athletes should value themselves in the age of social media.
“We must protect our careers, bodies, and value,” he emphasized. It was a reminder that professional athletes aren’t props for content creation—they’re skilled professionals who deserve compensation commensurate with what they bring to any arrangement.
The response online was mixed. Some accused Omanyala of lacking a sense of fun, of being too rigid. Others, particularly fellow athletes, applauded his stance. They understood what casual observers might not: that saying yes to every publicity opportunity without proper compensation sets a dangerous precedent, devaluing the work and sacrifice behind elite performance.
The tension exposed a fundamental clash between two economies. In the creator economy, exposure is currency—followers translate to sponsorships, views become revenue, virality builds empires. IShowSpeed’s success proves this model works. But in professional athletics, exposure without proper structure can be exploitative. An athlete’s prime earning years are limited, their bodies finite resources.
Omanyala’s decision forced a conversation the sports world needed to have. As social media influencers increasingly enter traditional sports spaces—hosting exhibitions, creating content with athletes, building hybrid entertainment products—the question of fair compensation becomes crucial. Should a world-class sprinter race for free because the resulting video might go viral? Or should they be paid as the skilled professional they are?
For Omanyala, the answer was clear. Streams and likes don’t cover training costs. They don’t compensate for injury risk. They don’t honor the decade of dedication it takes to run 100 meters in under 10 seconds.
His stance was simple: if his talent and skill have value—and they do—then that value deserves recognition in more than just social media metrics.
In standing firm, Ferdinand Omanyala wasn’t just protecting his own interests. He was drawing a line for every athlete navigating the increasingly blurred space between sports and entertainment, between performance and content, between professionals and personalities.
And sometimes, the most important race is the one you choose not to run.
Discover more from Big Masterz Hub
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
