Page 46 of Full Court Love
He tosses me a wrapped package. “All right, innovator, shut up and open your present.”
I tear open the paper. It’s a dark green vintage YMCA sweatshirt. And it’s gorgeous. I jump onto his lap and bear hug him. “I love this so much! Thank you! I want to go put it on right now.”
He grabs my hand as I stand up, pulling me back down to the couch. “Wait, there’s a second part to this present.”
Shaking my head, I wag a finger at him. “Nope. That goes against the rules, and I won’t accept it.”
“Wait, wait, hold on. I didn’t spend money on this, and it’s on the theme of the YMCA. It’s all technically one gift with two halves. Like a basketball game–see, it all makes sense. You’re welcome.”
I can’t help but roll my eyes. “The pre-law stuff is starting to permeate your entire life. Did you know that? I should’ve known better than to think you didn’t have a well-prepared argument ready to go. And you call me the crazy one.” I hold out my hands, feigning annoyance.
“Well, you are crazy. You ranted for fifteen minutes aboutTitanicand how selfish Rose was.”
“I think if you took a straw poll on that one, I’m actually in the majority, and–”
A heavy envelope drops on my lap, shutting me up.
“What is this?”
“Just open it.”
He’s doing that thing I love where he’s a little nervous but also excitedly watching my reaction. I peel the envelope open and pull out the first piece of paper. Then I read.
Dear Lucy,
It’s tough to articulate how much joy you’ve brought to
my life. You are like a daughter to me, and I know my own daughter
would’ve loved you…
It’s a letter from Jeff. I wipe the tear from my cheek, flipping through the massive stack of letters. Each of the guys I play with at the YMCA wrote one. Then there are the letters from my roommates, a few of my teammates, Pete and Angie, and even my mom. I read and read, tears streaming down my face with each word.
They tell me how much I’ve meant to them–they share stories and memories, the times I’ve lifted them up, the joy and the love. I genuinely don’t know what to do with all these emotions. Every time I look up at Jordan, he just scoots closer to me and continues stroking my shoulders.
Finally I reach the end, and he hands over the tissue box. I wipe the tears and snot from my face and laugh. “This was not on the theme of the YMCA, you liar.”
He shrugs. “Yeah, well, it started that way. I was just going to have it be the guys you play with. But then I told AJ about it and she wanted to write one. It snowballed from there. It’s not my fault everyone’s obsessed with you.”
I wallop him in the face with a pillow. He smacks it away and kisses the top of my head.
“Well, they are. You don’t even know the impact you’ve had here, Lucy. I’m not talking about basketball. I’m talking about people. You’ve affected people in so many ways by just being yourself.”
Now he’s getting choked up. Which is making me even more emotional because I’m a basket case right now and can’t be held accountable for my emotions. He swallows in an effort to gain some composure and continues.
“I’m just in awe of you. And it has absolutely nothing to do with putting a leather ball through a metal ring.”
He cups my face in his hands and gives me a piercing stare. “I really need you to internalize this. Who you are and the impact you’ve had is way more than basketball.”
How the hell did we start talking about this? Now we are delving into one of my most deeply held insecurities, just out of the blue, off the cuff. I wasn’t prepared for this. I need a good twenty-four hours to mentally and emotionally ready myself for this topic.
But it’s evident Jordan has gotten to know me even more intimately than I realized. He genuinely sees me behind the perfectly curated façade. A large part of my anxiety stems from feeling like basketball is the main reason anyone likes me or cares about me. It often feels like it’s the only value I have.
It feels like it’s my whole identity.
So without it, I am no one. Hence why an injury like tearing my ACL derailed me beyond just the physical. It ripped out the core of who I am as a person. Therapy helped, but that ugly insecurity is always there, ready to rear its head again.
Jordan giving me a gift that was not just thoughtful, but also helped affirm my identity as more than a basketball player, is almost too much for my little heart to handle.