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Nneka Ogwumike answered the same question she’s been facing for almost two months.

Why now? Why leave the WNBA when she still leads the Sparks in scoring and rebounding, has played a central role in helping the league negotiate a transformative new collective bargaining agreement and returned to the city where her pro career began?

Ogwumike is at peace with her decision. And when she steps onto the court in a Sparks jersey for the last time Thursday, she will do it without regrets.

“I’m mostly grateful,” Ogwumike said. “I haven’t really been thinking much else besides just being grateful for the opportunity to have had a 15-year career in the WNBA and also to finish in a Sparks jersey.”

There is a lot for which to be grateful.

Ogwumike entered the WNBA as the No. 1 overall pick of the Sparks in 2012. Now, 15 seasons later, she is leaving the league as one of its most accomplished players — and as the most prolific scorer in Sparks history.

Sparks forward Nneka Ogwumike, left, tries to drive past Lynx forward Napheesa Collier during a game in Minneapolis.

(Matt Krohn / Getty Images)

“It feels freeing,” Ogwumike said of her decision to retire. “It feels like there’s a level of autonomy that I’m able to have, and I’m very happy about that.”

The numbers only begin to tell the story.

Ogwumike was rookie of the year after averaging 14 points and 7.5 rebounds per game. Four years later, she produced the best season of her career, averaging 19.7 points per game, winning MVP and leading the Sparks to their third WNBA championship.

She spent 12 seasons with the Sparks before leaving for Seattle, then returned to Los Angeles this season to finish her career.

Along the way, she established herself among the most productive players in league history. Ogwumike will finish her career fourth all-time in scoring with 8,013 points, behind Diana Taurasi, Tina Charles and DeWanna Bonner. She is third all-time in rebounds with 3,571 and third in steals with 716.

And on July 17, she added one more piece of history to the résumé, passing Lisa Leslie to become the Sparks’ all-time leading scorer.

Sisters Chiney, left, and Nneka Ogwumike pose for a photo at the Bird’s Eye View After Party during WNBA All-Star weekend.

(Daniel Boczarski / Getty Images for Vox Media)

“This is where it all started [for me],” Ogwumike said. “So very happy to be able to share this time, both the beginning and the end of my career in L.A., and I had a majority of my career playing for this organization, so it really does mean a lot to be able to finish in it as well.”

The return, however, did not unfold quite the way Ogwumike or the Sparks had envisioned.

Los Angeles entered the season with playoff expectations after bringing Ogwumike back, signing Erica Wheeler and trading for Ariel Atkins. The Sparks had not made the postseason since 2020, and the hope was that Ogwumike’s return could help change that.

Instead, the season became a struggle. The Sparks will finish 10 games out of a playoff spot, leaving Ogwumike’s final games less about a postseason push and more about what she could leave behind.

“The season is not at all what I expected, but it doesn’t mean that I can’t come out here to do my job and try and be great, and be great as a result,” Ogwumike said. “And as always, playing with my teammates as well.”

That has meant spending time with the young players who will carry the Sparks forward after she is gone.

Sparks coach Lynne Roberts and Nneka Ogwumike talk on the sideline during a win over the Indiana Fever in July.

(Katelyn Mulcahy / Getty Images)

Ogwumike has particularly focused on Cameron Brink, the young forward who represents a significant part of the organization’s future.

“I think right now I’m really spending a lot of my time trying to pour into Cam as well,” Ogwumike told reporters this week. “I really do think that she’s the future of the league. … I’m happy to be able to leave whatever I can before I throw my feet up.”

It is a fitting final role for a player whose career has stretched across generations of the WNBA.

“She’s poured into me since I got into the league,” Dream forward Angel Reese said in August. “Kind of like one of my first vets, always being there for me, always texting me, and also really like educating me on the things that were going on, knowing that it was a big CBA coming up.”

Her final contribution might not be something that appears in a box score. It might be what she passes on.

“She’ll be missed,” said Valkyries forward Gabby Williams, who played with Ogwumike in Seattle the previous two seasons. “As a friend, but also as a fan. I’ll miss watching her in the W.”

Williams knows what Ogwumike’s career has meant to the league, but she also understands what comes next.

“I’m really happy for her,” Williams said. “Happy she gets to take that next step. I know what it means to her. I’m glad her last year was pivotal for the CBA and she’ll always have her name written on that.”

Ogwumike, though, isn’t spending much time looking backward.

She hasn’t thought about what her final moments in the WNBA will feel like, only the gratefulness she feels to have had her 15-year career.

“I haven’t,” Ogwumike said when asked if she has thought about her last moments in the league. “Still just focused on playing.”

Sept. 22, 2026 3:02 AM PT

A few years ago, I received a call I’ll never forget. Jeanette Epps, an astronaut aboard the International Space Station, Zoomed into my living room from 250 miles above Earth. During our conversation, she told me that one of the reasons she chose her career was a television show my father created in 1966.

She wasn’t alone. I’ve heard versions of that same story from countless people over the years. Engineers. Scientists. Astronauts. People who saw possibility on a television screen before they ever saw it in the real world.

They credit “Star Trek” for showing them a future they wanted to help build. That’s an extraordinary thing for a television series to accomplish. It didn’t just entertain millions of people. It gave many of them a direction.

And I don’t think that was because of the ships, the gadgets or the aliens. It was because, underneath all of it, was a profoundly human belief that we are capable of becoming something better.

There was a time when science fiction made a bet on humanity. A bet that humanity was worth rooting for. We need storytellers willing to make that bet again.

I don’t think we have an innovation problem. We have an inspiration problem.

We talk a lot about what we’re leaving the next generation. The debt. The climate. The geopolitical mess. But there’s another inheritance we don’t talk about enough: what we show them is possible.

Today, many visions of the future are dominated by collapse, dystopia and fear. Those stories can have value. But conflict doesn’t always have to come from destruction. It can come from discovery. Two minds encountering an idea neither had considered. A crew facing the unknown with curiosity instead of fear. That kind of conflict doesn’t leave you feeling like the world is ending. It leaves you feeling like it’s just beginning.

Most storytelling holds a mirror up to who we are. Our flaws, our failures, our contradictions. But there is another kind. Stories built around characters a step or two ahead of where humanity is. Not perfect. But people who have learned how to cooperate, how to lead, how to stay curious and how to put something larger than themselves first. Characters you don’t just recognize. Characters you want to become one day.

That distinction changes what a story asks of you. And what you walk away believing is possible.

This year, “Star Trek” celebrates its 60th anniversary.

That’s not a milestone you reach by accident. Franchises built on spectacle fade. Ones built on something people actually needed tend to stick around.

The engineers who built Silicon Valley, the astronauts who went to space, the scientists pushing the edges of medicine and artificial intelligence — many of them trace a line back to this show. That wasn’t the plan. Nobody set out to build an innovation pipeline out of a television series. But that’s exactly what happened. When you give people a future worth believing in, they go build it — or sometimes they get inspired to imagine other hopeful destinations and lead us toward them. That’s not nostalgia. That’s a model.

One thing my dad understood that I think gets overlooked: “Star Trek” wasn’t going out into the galaxy to find aliens that looked different. It was going out to find aliens that thought different.

Diversity of perspective is how a species grows. My father gave that idea a name: IDIC. Infinite Diversity from Infinite Combinations. It didn’t mean you had to abandon your own point of view. It meant staying open to someone else’s. Because that’s how you grow. That idea has never been more relevant. And it has never been more achievable.

For the first time in history, a creator anywhere in the world can tell a story that reaches everyone, and now it can come from anywhere. The future belongs to everyone. The stories that shape it should too.

That astronaut who called me from space didn’t just watch a television show. She saw a future worth dedicating her life to.

Every generation needed something to build toward before they ever picked up a tool. A vision. A direction. A story that made the future feel worth the work. And right now, we’re not building enough of that.

We need stories that don’t just entertain us, but also become our compass. We need the kind of storytelling that doesn’t ask what could go wrong, but asks what could go right.

Rod Roddenberry, founder of the Roddenberry Foundation and son of “Star Trek” creator Gene Roddenberry and actor Majel Barrett Roddenberry, is an executive producer on current “Star Trek” television shows.