An Open Letter To The Guy Wearing My Jersey

An homage to Katie Thompson for inspiring me: thank you.

Dear #12,

I. Have. So. Much. To. Tell. You

Growing up you never actually think it will happen. It seems so far off. You always think that the day is never going to come when you can finally be your own man and make your own decisions. You get frustrated because it seems like everyone thinks they know what's best for you. You wake up, go to school, and go to practice. You live life one step, one thing, one day at a time.

When I was waiting to grow up, I turned to sports. At first it was gymnastics, and I stuck with it for a long time. But then curiosity got the best of me and I fell in love with basketball. I spent my summers outside working on my shot and my winters in the garage working on my handle. I would ask my mom for the newest shoes and even though I didn't always get them, it didn't matter because I played for the love of the game and not the shoes. I would spend recess playing pickup games and would stay out after dark just to get one more shot up. I played in rec leagues and any chance to hoop, I would take it in a heartbeat.

From the youth teams, I moved on to bigger and better things: the seventh and eighth grade teams, club teams, and finally, high school and AAU. I was meeting new friends, new teammates and never taking the time to stop and appreciate what was in front of me. I tossed aside the old shirts and jerseys and traded them in for the new uniforms, without ever thinking I would miss them.

Then, suddenly I was a senior. Riding the bus to my last game, I looked out the window and it hit me, "this is the last time I'm ever going to put this jersey on". It all came flooding back to me and I saw everything I took for granted. Walking the halls of my school, the early morning practices, the traveling, the fans, and of course, the games. Don't get me wrong, I had fun the whole journey through. I was proud to be a Bandon Tiger and I loved the team I was representing. But I wasn't thinking about the new shoes, the new jerseys, or how I was a senior and a leader on the team. I just assumed that time was on my side and that it always would be.

The next thing I knew I was paying admission to get in the games and sitting in the stands of the gym that used to be my sanctuary. I quickly realized that every moment of late night basketball, the youth league games, the middle school practices, the high school playoffs, and everything in between are moments I can't ever have back. While waiting to grow up, the game I never thought was going to be over, was the thing I had taken for granted the most.

I am writing you this letter because I can almost guarantee that your life went the same way. Either that, or you're in high school and you don't realize that you're walking on the same path that I did. It's really easy to just look ahead to the next practice, the next game, the next season, or the next year. I know the schedule. You complain about only having a couple days off here and there but you love the game so you put up with it. You love the practices and games and late nights, and there's always the next one. But one day, they run out. The practices stop, the games are over, and there is no next season. So let me get to the point of this post and tell you some things about the number on your back and that jersey that you wear.

Take some time to think about everything. As you wear my number, on my court, playing my game, take the time to think about the young boys just discovering the love of the game that we share. Think about all the people who have put that jersey on before you and all the ones that will put that jersey on after you, because in the same time that I was letting all of it pass me by, I was also making that jersey my own.

The moments that you spend with those people you call teammates, wearing that jersey, and in the gym, are moments you are going to look back on and see just how simple life was. You're going to want to roll back time to the late nights, the long bus rides, the hard practices, and the tough games. You're going to miss sitting in your favorite seat, listening to the same pump-up music, and doing your pre-game routine with your favorite teammates. You are going to miss the over night road games in hotels. You're going to miss seeing your parents, grandparents, and family in the stands. You're going to miss the deep conversations you have with the team, stopping at the same store to get food after the game, and all the little moments that seem like they're unimportant until you can't have them anymore. And worse still, you're going to miss your team, and the bond you share. You're going to miss their parents, their siblings, their family, and every single person who's ever helped you get to where you are today.

You are going to miss the brotherhood you've become.

So like I said, that jersey and that number, it was all once mine. Just like it represents your successes and your losses, it represents my own. I made shots, I missed shots, I had rebounds, and I let some get away. I smiled in that jersey as they announced my name to start before my first varsity game, and I cried like a baby in that jersey when I walked off of the court after my very last game. I gave my all for that jersey and that number on your back. It's seen the blood, sweat, and tears I have dedicated to the game. That jersey has seen me at my best and at my worst. It's been through hell and back with me.

The thing is, it isn’t just a jersey. It’s a legacy. And every legacy has its own story. That jersey you wear, that was once mine, symbolizes my story. As I watch from the stands, and see what used to be my team play, you should know that I am expecting a lot from you. I am expecting you to play better than I ever did, because even I did not do our jersey justice.

Make it count, #12