at the tender age of 7, a small, scrawny, bug-eyed boy stepped on american soil for the first time. this was it, this was the day life would start anew. his father would always speak of america, how everything was so much better there and how one day he would take damian and his two siblings to his homeland. they were words damian clung to in a life of continuous confusion. his father, an american music producer, had somehow ended up in costa rica where he had found his muse in an impressionable 15 year old singer, damian's mother. by age 17, she was already mother to three children, all left under the care of her mother while she sought fame and stardom across central america.
chicago meant no more waiting by the window day in and day out for his parents to come home from weeks on the road. no more having to comfort his younger siblings with lies about how mom and dad would be right back bearing presents. no more sleeping 6 to a bed at his nana's house. no more wondering why his two new twin siblings seemed to be a topic of heated debate among the adults in the family. no more wondering why men who weren't his father hung around the house sometimes looking for his mother. moving to this magical place called chicago would change everything. mami and papi would finally live under one roof with him and his siblings as one big happy family.
unfortunately for the young damian, wisdom came very quickly. almost as soon as the family settled in a one bedroom apartment in one of chicago's most crime-ridden neighborhoods, the boy started to realize that this change of scenery couldn't put his broken family back together again. rather than forging something new for the future, chicago felt like more of the same but in a foreign setting. as the eldest, he watched over his siblings whenever his mother was busy reviving her career or entertaining her flavor of the week. his father, who paid the bills but only lived there whenever he slept in mami's bed, was even less present and was replaced many times over by men who hardly ever paid attention to the kids.
his english limited to what he had learned from movies and the little his mother and father spoke at home, damian had a hard time finding his place among his peers. pegged as just another esl kid, the previously social child became a little more reserved. it wasn't until he saw his classmates playing basketball during recess that he realized there was another way for him to assimilate into american culture. he remembered the shiny red jersey his american father had gifted him for his fifth birthday with the name 'jordan' and the number 23 on the back. he remembered how the older kids playing basketball at the park almost broke their necks from turning their head so far to get a glimpse of it. that, coupled with memories of his father speaking of basketball greats like they were gods, had been what piqued his interest in the sport as a child and what allowed him to find a common ground with his new peers. in years to follow, his love for the sport grew exponentially, as did his skill. when things got tough at home, it was a way to exorcise himself of his frustration and keep him off the streets. nothing cleared his mind or inspired him to dream like stepping onto the court.
his world got a hell of a lot smaller when he came home from school one day to find their house upside down and his mother in hysterics. his three youngest siblings had been taken by child services, to be placed in foster care. damian didn't remember feeling such rage before in his life, and hasn't since. a rift started forming that day between himself and his mother, out of sheer anger that she let things get so bad that her children would be placed in the hands of strangers. more than that, he was angry with himself for not being able to do more for them. he had failed three of the people he treasured the most in life, something he grapples with to this day even though their family has reunited. the hurt he felt also fueled his passion, motivated him to push harder to get to a better place academically. he was paid under the table at a local deli, a job he maintained throughout high school and at least kept food in the fridge whenever mom lost her head. he operated under the mindset that there were no acceptable excuses ever, a belief that got him nearly perfect grades and eventually, a scholarship to play basketball for st. john's university in new york. though leaving chicago wasn't an easy decision to make, he had enough trust in his two younger siblings to run the household in his absence.
it went without saying his experience at st. john's didn't turn out exactly the way he had envisioned. he didn't become some huge college phenom and the nba did not come knocking his sophomore year. for his first couple of years, he hardly saw any playing time. he came off the bench occasionally when coach was feeling generous or desperate, but that was about it. he caught a bigger break off the court, when he took a journalism course just to get more units and ended up writing a weekly column about his experience on the bench for the school newspaper. obtaining notoriety through his commentary and realizing he would never be the standout star he wanted to be in a squad already stacked with beasts, he decided to give up his position on the team during his junior year, shifting his focus to reporting for the remainder of his time at st. john's. naturally, this meant taking part-time jobs out the wazoo and signing up for loans he's still paying off to this day in order to pay for his education. through various internships at city newspapers and tv stations, he landed an entry-level position at espn's new york headquarters at 23 and has been working his way up the ladder ever since.
