Dear Jordan, From Chris

Dear Jordan,

Imagine clutching on to the bottom of your basketball shorts, sweat trickling down your brow, and your new teammate wrapping you on the arm to ask you about your new sneakers. His voice, a bit muffled by the maximum effort you had exerted in the last drill, finally clears out the high pitch squeaks from the floor and the barking calls from the ballers running the next skill exercise. He thinks your Jordan’s are cool. As a new aspiring member of a long time established and successful team, I often sought the proper moments to fit in with everyone. Recognition for my choice of on-court kicks offered such an opportunity, so I followed through with some sneaker talk, a hearty chuckle, and suffered the stern stare of the coach admonishing us for not paying our full attention to the activity at hand.

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The Jordan XI Space Jam was my new calling card. I’ve always said that this colour combination of black and royal always seemed the meanest, and the bright white midsole was a call to all to let it be known that I would not shy away from anyone. What I had kept to myself was the security it provided me as a player in a new setting looking for his spot. The Space Jam was a warm blanket disguised as a sleek dismantling machine. My license to play above my means, to push myself through pain, and leave it all on that hardwood floor…

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Imagine a time past from competing four times a week to hone your technique. No more schedules, no more training, no more uniforms, except maybe your own. The Space Jam was always part of my garb, like the last piece of my armour before heading into battle. With the waning of organized basketball and structured play, I found myself balling for love rather than contest. From that love, I developed a desire, a want to show my on-court bravado off the court. The Space Jam’s physicality now forwarded me to fashion, because its beauty translated so well from fight to flex…

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The Space Jam was made for me. I had found it when I needed it most. It gave me an identity on court, post court, and in my own mind. The Space Jam completes my sneaker timeline. It was there at the beginning, it carried me when I was challenged, and it shone on me when I wanted to stand out. The Space Jam, if I had to choose, would be the very last shoe to fill my closet… And it would be the fullest of closets that you could ever hope to imagine.

From Chris


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