The Toronto Raptors retired Vince Carter’s jersey on Saturday night. The ceremony came during half time of the Raptors-Kings game, where an emotional Carter and his family watched a banner with his number and the iconic photo of him mid-between-the-legs-dunk rise up to the rafters in the arena it all started in for him. That moment marked a culmination. Of a career, of a person’s trepidatious relationship with a city and its fan base, of a distinct era of NBA basketball and identity of a franchise, but also of a month’s worth of moments for Carter.
The Raptors made the announcement at a community basketball court dedication to Carter in late September, where franchise president Masai Ujiri thanked Carter for all he did to inspire the game in Canada and put the Raptors franchise on the map. “Time heals things,” Ujiri told the crowd before he confirmed Carter would be the first player in team history to have their number retired. Carter was overcome and fought back tears as he thanked the crowd, Ujiri and the city.
The tributes continued. Carter had an airplane dedicated to him by one of the country’s major airlines, Air Canada, in a nod to his nickname of the same. A mural was unveiled in downtown Toronto, and it was announced Carter would join as a broadcaster to provide coverage for select games this season — also the Raptors 30th anniversary season.
Given the host of accolades and recognition, I found it telling when Carter sat down in front of assembled media prior to Saturday night’s game for a pre-ceremony presser, and said he wasn’t sure what to expect of the night but encouraged everyone to “live in the moment”. I asked him, in light of every tribute and celebration thus far, how he was doing that or if his perception of the moment changed. He laughed. “I’m fighting,” he admitted.
In an openly emotional answer Carter said that even if the number retirement hadn’t happened, just seeing the team’s City Edition jerseys — which are another, subtle, tribute to Carter — would have been satisfying enough. To have a part of himself emblazoned alongside the NBA logo, much like Jerry West. “That’s me now,” he said, choking up.
Carter went on, acknowledging that why he was “so damn emotional” had to do with the deep appreciation of each tribute and moment. The on-court career of an athlete is so fleeting, the average NBA playing career is still closer to five seasons than Carter’s 22. Regardless of the length of time, for an athlete it’s more than a chapter closing but a portion of life ending. Certainly a way of life, with basketball the thing everything else orbits around. Marking that time as impactful, worthwhile, that it meant something, is a deeply human impulse whether a jersey retirement or the affirmation from fans and people who went through it with you that it happened. It’s why celebrations, of all sizes, matter.
