Letter To My Younger Self

Alonzo Mourning pens a letter to his younger self: “God is good, Alonzo. And don’t ever let anyone tell you angels aren’t real.”

Swin Cash pens a letter to her younger self: “Then, one day, if you play your cards right, you’ll even get paid to play this game.”

Walker Zimmerman pens a letter to his younger self ahead of the World Cup: “There’s absolutely nothing like playing for your country. It’s the best feeling in the world.”

Sadena Parks pens a letter to her younger self: “Be authentic and stay true to who you are and the results will make you — and the people you represent — proud.” 

Sara Gama pens a letter to her younger self: “I am writing to let you know that you are going to become someone that you never thought you could be.”

Tarik Cohen pens a letter to his younger self: “It’s almost like, for you, nothing can just be easy and work out and make everyone happy.”

Derek Jeter pens a letter to his younger self: “You’re going to live out your wildest dreams. You’ll be a Yankee. A champion. Even a Hall of Famer.”

Anna Cockrell pens a letter to her younger self: “No matter what happens out here, I am important, I am worthy, I am valued and I matter.” 

It’s not going to take two days or two weeks for it to hit you that you won the Stanley Cup — it’s going to hit you right then and there.

You must remember this: money and fame isn't the purpose. If you are not taking care of your soul, if you are not looking for inspiration in things outside of f

It all starts right here with what I’m about to tell you. So please, do us both a favor: Just shut up and listen.

So, Jack, when you get out there today with Dad, try and remember some of this. Don’t forget to let that elbow go loose. Don’t forget to give Barbara a call. An

When I sign this letter, I’m gonna sign it as Deion. But I mixed in a whole lot of Prime Time here for you, because I want you to understand the difference.

Your story could end here and it would be one happy-ass ending. But you’re gonna play 15 years in the league. There’s so much more to come.

I want to explain to you why it’s so difficult for me to speak — the diagnosis, all of it — and what my life is like now, because one day you’ll be in my shoes,

Please remember: Duck boats don’t have bathrooms. Not in 2004. We won’t be ready for that yet. Find a tennis ball can.

You’ll be out chasing the females and snorting coke before summer hits. It’ll be nonstop partying. At home. On the road. It won’t matter.

In many ways, you are living a dream. And in many ways, you are a prisoner of that dream.

I always told you to follow your heart with passion. You did it. You still do. I love you for that. Thank you, Gus, for being you — and for letting all of us se

The thing about Chicago basketball is, it’s not even a sport. I mean, it is, but not like that. It’s more like a fight.

“It’s 1991, you’re 35-and-a-half years old, you have two bad knees and seven months left on your contract…you’re going to become a professional wrestler.”

Don’t give up. Just get … how should I put this ... creative. When the throwing problems continue — and the nightmares persist and the injuries begin to mount —

Believe in yourself. Believe in your instinct. And you’ll find out just why God has given you this talent.

What I really want you to know is that even at 33, that hunger you have now is still here. That drive to keep getting better hasn’t left yet.