And so, until the league develops what he sees as a more comprehensive plan to address mental-health treatment, he says, he'll never play another NBA game.
He says he's already turned down numerous offers to play, adding that he believes the fight has already cost him tens of millions in wages.
"I want them to walk away from this and feel like they got their money's worth. So for them to spend money and actually take the time out of their day, they could be doing anything in the world.
That means something to me."This is the last place anyone, including White, expected him to be.
After returning to practice with the team, he disappeared again without playing a game.
By the first week of 2013, he was off the team, having balked at a reassignment to the D-League.
"They tell the players to 'represent yourself, your family, your community, this organization, in a way that you'd be proud of.' So that lets me know you understand it's bigger than the game, bigger than four quarters, bigger than practice, bigger than the training you do.
It's bigger than the money you make." White isn't sure whether his efforts will ever land him back in the NBA, but he says the fight is bigger.
White never viewed the NBA as a company to work for—to him, it represented a different, almost religious, kind of community and a culture with a societal responsibility beyond hardwood courts.
Therein, still, lies the problem."I find it offensive that they don't feel that they are more than a sports league," White says of the NBA.
When he signed with the Lightning last December, he hadn't played competitive basketball in nearly three years, since a three-game stint with the Sacramento Kings in March 2014.
Everyone involved agrees the reason for White's rapid fall from the highest levels of basketball had nothing to do with his talent, which is by all accounts NBA-worthy.
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