Dear Bobby,
It's going to be okay.
No, really, it will be. It will! I doubt it feels that way right now; you may be a little more pessimistic than me, and you've certainly earned that right. But, all things considered, these last four and a half months were by no means a waste of time and effort. In lieu of all the obstacles you've faced, I think you did rather well this season. You did! I refuse to believe otherwise. I mean, come on. Stress fractures! Back spasms! Freshmen usurpers! (We all love him, but don't tell me he couldn't be seen as such.) That's rough, my friend, and I've never seen it get you down. You've weathered it all -- and now, in these last moments, this final heartbreak of a loss -- and it sucks. I know it sucks but I promise you, you'll get through it, and it'll make you stronger, and you will be amazing.
We don't know each other so this letter probably offers little in terms of comfort or reassurance, for either this season or the next, but I wanted to thank you. Thank you, Bobby, for 2007. Thank you for keeping your head high, for keeping your eyes open, for nailing those inside passes to Tyler, for sinking those three-point shots at the beginning of the season that were pretty enough to make me cry. Thank you for your bad jokes; thank you for busting on Wes Miller; thank you for laughing at yourself. Thank you for cheering just as loud as I did.
Next year, kid. I'll be there, cheering for you.
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