A Letter to Portland:Thank You for the Dream

Dear Portland,

It’s strange to write this. For nine years, you were my home, my classroom, my battlefield. The rain, the rose petals, the roar of the Moda Center—these became the soundtrack of my twenties. Now, as I pack my bags for New Orleans, I need you to know: this isn’t goodbye. It’s a thank you.

When I arrived in 2013, I was a kid from the Midwest with a backpack full of hope and a jumper that felt like my only voice. You didn’t just give me a jersey; you gave me a purpose. I remember the early mornings in the practice gym, the sound of a ball bouncing off an empty court, whispering to myself, “Work harder. They need you.” And you, Portland, you needed me. You believed in me before I believed in myself.

We grew up together. You watched me transform from a quiet rookie into a leader, from a scorer into a brother. I’ll never forget the nights when the lights dimmed and the crowd became a single heartbeat. We beat the odds, we defied the critics, and we built something real—something that can’t be measured in wins or losses. It was in the huddles, the high-fives, the text messages from fans who said, “We see you, CJ.”

To Dame: You taught me what loyalty looks like. We shared a backcourt, a dream, and a city. Through the injuries, the trades rumors, the playoff heartbreaks, we never wavered. You’re my brother for life.

To the fans: Your passion is unmatched. You cheered when I scored 50, but you also cheered when I dove for a loose ball. You showed me that basketball isn’t just a game—it’s a language of love.

Now, I step into a new chapter. New Orleans, with its jazz and jambalaya, will become my next canvas. But Portland, you will always be my first masterpiece. I’ll carry your spirit in every crossover, every pull-up jumper, every moment I step on the floor.

Thank you for the dream. Thank you for letting me be yours.

With all my heart,
CJ McCollum