Dear Fernando

My dearest, darling Fernando,

I’m writing this to you a few days before the Heisman Trophy ceremony, and I guess you could say it’s a little ironic. You are up for this amazing individual award — but as anyone who’s ever watched you knows, that’s not what you’re about. You’re a teammate at heart. I’ve been lucky enough to know that for a much longer time than most people….. and not just because I’m your mom. But because I feel like I was your very first teammate.

When you were born, it was this moment of so many changes for me. I’d lived in Miami my whole life, all the way through graduate school, and then at 25 I moved away and got pregnant — in Boston of all places!!! It was exciting but it was scary. And your dad had to work a lot, which meant that for a while it was mostly just you and me. I remember your first winter, it was so cold, I’d never experienced anything like it before. So I’d completely overdress us (thinking you must be freezing like me), and I’d wrap us up in coats, scarves, snow hats, gloves, whatever I could find. Until you got a heat rash, and the doctor was like, Crazy lady!!! Dress him normal please. We’d watch TV, we’d play music, we’d buy groceries, we’d go to the park….. maybe this is silly to say about a newborn, but to me you were more like my buddy. And it’s like we were each dealing with our own exciting/scary new thing. And the way we got through it was together.

You were always the biggest, sweetest boy — in preschool your teachers would tell me, “Fernando is a gentle giant.” And since you weren’t the fastest kid back then, when we signed you up for park football they wanted you to play defensive line. But I’ll always get a kick out of how, even after we moved back to Miami, there’s one Boston thing that stuck: your love for Tom Brady! You idolized him, and then wanted to play quarterback like him. Sometimes you’ll try to credit me with teaching you how to throw, but that’s you being kind as usual. The truth is, it was more like an accident … from me being selfish. My dream was for you to play tennis like I did. And at UM there was this drill they’d run us through, where we’d practice throwing a ball across the net, to work on our serve. “Step and throw, step and throw.” So that’s what I’d tell you and Alberto! And now of course every quarterback coach jokes with me, “That’s the WORST thing you could have told them.” But you made it work :)

As I look back on the journey you’ve taken to get to this point, and all the things I’m proud of you for, what stands out to me is how so many of those things are connected. You’ve developed such a wonderful sense of self over the years. I should have known — when you insisted on staying a Patriots fan in Miami! But it’s just always been clear that you know who you are. This comes out in really fun ways sometimes. I’ll never forget when we were at a basketball game, you were maybe 7 or 8, and they were doing that thing where they show different fans dancing on the jumbotron. A lot of people, when they’re shown, they get embarrassed and stop dancing. Not you. I remember seeing you notice yourself on the screen … pause for maybe the tiniest second … and then get that classic Fernando spark in your eye. Like you’d decided, in real time, Actually you know what??? I love to dance. I want to dance. So that’s what I’m going to do. 

And I feel like it’s with that same conviction about who you are, and what you want, that you’ve approached your journey as a football player. You’ve had to overcome obstacles at every step along the way — and I’m so proud of how, instead of letting those obstacles define you, you’ve treated them as opportunities to define yourself.

I always think about year one of park football, when you were the new kid in town, and told your coaches that you wanted to play quarterback. They said, “OK……… But you’re QB4 right now.” You said, “That’s fine.” Then you worked hard, and stayed patient. And when you eventually got to take some snaps, big surprise, you played great!

I think about 9th grade, when you were at a school that you loved … but the football team ran a Wing-T offense. And after the season, you came to me and your dad and were like, “Guys, I think I can play college football. And if I’m going to have a chance at that, I need to develop as a QB. And to develop as a QB, I need to play in a pro-style offense.” So you switched schools for 10th grade, which really came at a cost. A lot of your friends disowned you for a while … people called you a traitor … it broke your heart. But you knew what you wanted, so you made the difficult choice.

I think about Covid, and how it hit when you were just starting to play so well. You guys had a shot at a state championship that season — and it got canceled!!! I was devastated for you. And it impacted your recruiting, too, with all the restrictions in place. They had you rated as a two-star prospect (which I never believed), so no Power 5 offers were coming. But you just refused to give up. You went to camp after camp after camp that summer, I think 17 in all. And after a while we basically became each other’s hype man. I’d be like, “Fernando, you’re going to get a Power 5 offer. I’m telling you.” And you’d be like, “I’m gonna do it, Mami. I’m gonna do it, I know it.” And then you did it.

And finally, I think about last year, when you made the decision to transfer from Cal. I know how much you cherished your time there…… you’re a true “Golden Bear,” with the amazing degree to prove it!! But I also know, at a certain point, that you had another goal in mind: to make the NFL. And in talking to Alberto about his development at IU, you became convinced that playing for Coach Cignetti and his staff was the right path forward. I saw how it all weighed on you, though — and how at first you almost felt bad for having fun in Bloomington, because a piece of your heart was still in Berkeley. But to me that’s one of your best qualities. You have a tenderness about you that I think is rare in sports. And eventually you realized what I knew you would: We move through life in chapters! And enjoying the chapter we’re on now doesn’t diminish the one we were on before.

And then there’s one more aspect of your journey that’s always touched me very deeply — though it’s not something I’ve always been open to talking about. And it’s the way that your journey over the last several years has intertwined with my own. Specifically, my battle with multiple sclerosis. 

I was diagnosed about 18 years ago, but of course you never knew that. You and Alberto were so young, and I was doing fine….. and mostly I didn’t want you to worry. It just felt like this impossible thing to place on you guys. On my sweet boys. And then I kept doing fine until about 10 years ago, when we went skiing and I broke my ankle and knee. But even after that, I wasn’t quite ready to tell you — only that my leg hadn’t healed all the way, which is why your mom had her limp. It wasn’t until five years ago, when I got Covid, that things started to go downhill in a way where there was no more hiding it. It was during football season, and I realized I wasn’t going to be able to travel. And the thought of you wondering if I supported you any less, because suddenly I wasn’t at your games? I hated that. So that’s when I knew we had to sit you and your brother down.

No amount of years could have prepared me for how hard of a conversation it ended up being. Your mom has this degenerative disease … and while we don’t know how it will progress, it’s going to start to affect us in a few ways. But it won’t affect us in the ways that matter. We’ll have each other, and love each other, and be there for each other. I promise.

And this is where I really was able to feel your sense of self shine through, Fernando — at a time when it meant so much. Because as strange as it might sound to people (and as ridiculous as it feels to me now), one of the biggest issues I had to overcome as my condition first worsened wasn’t just the condition itself. It was the embarrassment. I started to have to walk with a crutch … then for a while I had to do chemo … and then Covid added this whole other layer of concern about me getting sick. And I think I started to feel a mental toll from all of that of like, Oh my God. I’m your mom!!! You’re my kids!!! I’m not YOUR responsibility, you’re MINE!!! It wasn’t easy. 

Honestly: It will never be easy.

But you’ve made it so much easier. And you’ve done that in the sweetest, strongest, most Fernando way possible — by making me feel the exact opposite of embarrassed. You’ve made me feel seen. Whether it was giving me full debriefs of your college visits, what you liked and disliked (pictures included) … or it was calling me before some big game I had to miss while in treatment … or it’s being so vocal and passionate about MS fundraising … or it’s even something as silly as joking, “Wait, did you put on a few pounds???” when you have to carry me up the stairs … you’ve always kept that same spark in your eye. No matter what kind of state I’ve been in, or day I’ve been having — you’ve never once looked away. You’ve never once treated me like I’m embarrassing, or deficient, or anything other than someone you love and are standing by. And even as my condition has gotten worse, and as our lives continue to change around that fact: You manage to make me feel like I’m still every part of myself. Like I’m still that same person you’ve been teammates with since we got through our first Boston winter together. Like I’m still that same mom.

Anyway, my dear……. I will wrap this up shortly. I know you have much more important things to do right now than read a letter. But I also hope you’re able to take a moment and savor everything this week. To be a Heisman Trophy finalist — I mean, just think of how excited 10-year-old Fernando would have been, back when he was QB4 in the park, if I’d told him what his future might have in store??? (Not even the great Tom Brady was a Heisman finalist!!) And while yes I may be slightly biased, to me what you and Indiana have accomplished this season is so special. For you to come to a new school and play as well as you have, and then translate that into historic team success and win the Big 10 — what a story!!! I don’t have a vote, but every time I see an Instagram post ranking you #1 for the Heisman, I hit the like button. So hopefully that’s helping. (I’ve done it quite a few times.)

Whether you win the trophy or not, though, and whether you win or lose in the playoffs — if there’s one thought I want to leave you with, it’s this: Your accomplishments will NEVER impact how proud of you I am. Because you are already everything I could have hoped for as a mother.... and that has nothing to do with the miles you throw or the touchdowns you score. It has everything to do with the man you’ve grown into. As an oldest brother who shows the way. As a hard worker who has an unstoppable spirit. As a Cuban American athlete who represents his community. As a leader who lifts up, and lends kindness, even when no one is looking. As a person of faith, who leans on God and trusts Him, even when it’s an uneasy road. You have a future that’s so bright and a heart that’s so full. My gentle giant. My darling son. My buddy. My teammate. I believe in you with every part of me.

I’m proud of you, not just today, but every day. 

With all my love,
Mami