That Young Udonis Feeling
Udonis Haslem's Jersey Retirement Ritual, and Jordan's Alien Anthropology
Believe it or not, Miami’s about more than just boasting exclusivity and fancy coloured lights on inaccessible island homes. Who knew?! In my few days there I lived about a month’s worth of life, at a tempo that Ferris Bueller might even envy. I’m not going to hijack this blog to become a way to regale you of my discoveries and adventures, because you’re here for other things too! (Actually, that may be all you’re here for…) But this week we’re diving into my discoveries at an NBA halftime show; following that, the blog will resume normal programming.
Whatever that means.
The Ritual
I love watching sports, and it doesn’t need to be top level either. On the Friday night I was in Miami, I was graced with several fine athletic options: NBA, NHL, and probably some Jai Alai and dog racing somewhere, too. South Florida, baby. Normally, given the option between hockey and pretty much anything, I’ll pick hockey.
But having narrowly escaped winter, being in a tropical place, I couldn’t wrap my head or heart around staring at ice for three hours. (You astute readers may follow me in my reasoning and ask if I also choose to only drink luke- and actual-warm drinks in such climes, but here you will see my logic breaks down and I’m a hypocrite. Anyway). I went to see the Miami Heat on a night that turned out to have some serious organizational significance, because they were retiring the jersey of Udonis Haslem and had all the pomp, circumstance, and free collector shirts to amplify the occasion.
In an era of mercenary athletes (more specifically, their agents) who follow not much else than money, Haslem had a pretty remarkable journey for a pro athlete because he didn’t really go anywhere. Geographically, that is. He was born in Miami, played four years at the University of Florida, then played all twenty seasons (!) for the Heat, and won three championships along the way. I struggle to think of a better candidate for the platonic form of Hometown Hero.
But beyond platonic forms and all that philosophical mumbo jumbo, as a student of culture I found the halftime jersey-retirement ceremony pretty damn interesting:
Here you have an honourable member of a team/group/community/whatever, and the group wants to show this person respect. In attendance (other than the ~20k fans) were old teammates, the org’s top brass, and Haslem’s family (who I guess are also mostly named Haslem). People share stories, shower him with praise, and then hoist his jersey up to the rafters. The future absence of any Miami Heat player ever again wearing the number 40 will honour Haslem’s legacy. So will his enormous jersey-pennant, which is many times larger than the national flags hanging nearby, and which will serve a pretty similar function if you blur your eyes.
This isn’t a Heat-specific ritual. The jersey retirement ceremony is pretty standard amongst sports franchises, and much like my time ogling Italian supercars, I like to imagine I’m an alien anthropologist trying to get a pulse on what’s going on around me. If you’re reading this and belong to any sort of group (and my alien anthropology tells me that’s 100% of you), it’s worth considering what your equivalent jersey-retirement ceremony is, in the groups where you want to show respect for a person’s accomplishments.
Haslem’s jersey retirement ceremony brought him to tears. All of this organization’s resources were pointed at him for 30 minutes, bringing all his effort and sacrifice into focus, and telling him as explicitly as possible: we’re where we are because of you. Florida is already tattooed on Haslem’s back (like, actually), but this ceremony must have further reinforced his commitment to his home, and maybe more importantly (actually, certainly more importantly) shows the 20k people that are not Udonis Haslem: this is how we honour heroes.
Like any cultural exercise, the seeming focal point (Haslem, in this case) isn’t the point of the show, it’s what everyone else comes away with.
The Alley Oop
Haslem’s family was seated off behind him and as the 6’7” athlete hunched over the microphone that had been absurdly set for the 5’10” MC who works in the team’s back office, he told a story of playing basketball as a kid.
He had an older brother who invited young Haslem… Udonis (this could get confusing) to play ball with his older friends. Early in the game, Udonis went for a shot and completely missed the net. He was mortified. Airball, with his older brother and friends – can you imagine his embarrassment? You might just throw your shoes in the garbage and walk home in socks and tears. Yet that isn’t what happened. As the ball headed for not-the-net, Udonis’ brother swooped in, snatched the ball out of the air and alley-oop’d it. Here’s the kicker. As young Udonis stood standing there, jaw agape, the brother said, “Nice pass.”
Udonis knew that his brother knew it wasn’t a pass, it was a shitty shot. And there were a hundred ways to handle that next step after scoring what was probably a pretty awesome dunk. And what the older brother did was point the credit at fumbling Udonis, who would go on to stand under spotlights at the Kaseya Center, watching his jersey get lifted to the rafters 30 years later, alongside Shaq, Dwayne Wade, and Alonzo Mourning.
Udonis Haslem said the feeling he had in that moment on the basketball court with his brother – having someone elevate him, give him that quiet confidence – was something he wanted to recreate for others and he knew then that he wanted to spend the rest of his life playing basketball.
How cool. It just gives me chills to think about this poor kid on the verge of embarrassing himself out of ever setting foot on a basketball court again, having this experience suddenly transformed into something so enriching, so elevating, that he would go on to recreate this feeling for two decades at the pinnacle of the sport.
It can be hard to imagine all those moments when we’re able to give someone a quick “nice pass” comment after we’ve turned their blunder into a glorious alley oop, especially if the metaphorical alley oop has required painstaking effort from us. And it’s even harder to imagine the impact those moments might have on others’ paths. But as I witnessed on a Friday evening in Miami, those moments do happen, and they have a very real impact.
If you spend twenty years hustling, sweating, tearing muscles – and not to mention the emotional ups-and-downs of being on a top level team – all to bring that Young Udonis Feeling to the people around you, I’d say you damn well deserve to have your number retired.
Even (and maybe especially) if the ceremony is for the benefit of everyone else. Pure alley oop.
I don’t know how I got on your mailing list, but I’m glad to be here lol. That story of Haslem throwing up a brick and his brother congratulating him on a great pass is wonderful. Keep ‘em coming Jordan!
So inspirational! You give a real plan for exactly how to change behaviour to the perfectly positive. Thank you.