Sports writer recounts formative experience in the Texan basement

Dalton Phillips

The last piece I write for the Texan has none of the razor-sharp sports analysis that you’ve all come to know and love.  

Humor me, for the language is different. Sappier, certainly. But entirely authentic. 

It is difficult to convey the breadth of the Texan’s influence on my college experience. 

Like a student returning home from a semester abroad trying to describe their time with phrases like “life-changing” and “unforgettable,” the words on the page fall somewhat flat. 

Looking back now, the memories resurface like a cheesy montage in the series finale of a nine-season sitcom where all the best moments of joy and laughter fill the screen and your heart as you reflect on the unforgettable characters who have been with you since day one. 

A whirlwind of activity and late-deadlines and inside jokes and wonderful memories — the Texan and the sports department have been a microcosm of the hustle and bustle that is life. 

It was rarely easy, but the best things in life never are. 

Shoutouts to Drew aka Young King, I consider myself very lucky that we both got lost on our way to the courts that day. Thank you for being the best pick-and-roll player I’ve ever run alongside — both on and off the hardwood. 

Shoutouts to Justin, your approach to everything you do in life is inspiring. I’ve had the pleasure of watching you operate in a wide range of settings, and your all-in style is refreshing and will definitely take you places. 

You are both the type of friends a person might describe at the end of a long life, when looking back at their most cherished moments.