Letter To My Younger Self

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.

Even at 34, you could still use the occasional kick in the ass, or a lecture on what it means to be a good man.

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,

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

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

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.

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.

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