Dear DeMarcus,

You don’t know me, but I have probably seen almost every game you have ever played while wearing a jersey with “New Orleans” or “Pelicans” across the chest. Occasionally, I may miss a game here and there because of working on other assignments, but even then I’m streaming games, following play-by-play on Twitter or even watching game film if I can’t be in the Smoothie King Center or in front of my television.

What I’m trying to say is that I am always paying attention to the Pelicans, and I have been witness to what you bring to this team, this city, on a day-to-day basis.

I have also paid a significant amount of attention to your whole career. Living in Louisiana my whole life, I’ve seen my share of LSU basketball games, which means I’ve seen my share of Kentucky games, or anyone else in the SEC for that matter. Guys like you and Anthony Davis come out of that Wildcat program and we know you’re special from the beginning.

That’s how I first came to know you, as an opponent. I remember fearing you as a player on the court whenever Kentucky came down to Baton Rouge. This continued as you were drafted by the Sacramento Kings, and I knew you would be a serious Western Conference challenge to deal with for my favorite NBA franchise based right here in New Orleans. As an opponent, I got to recognize, respect and appreciate your game. Not only did I witness a uniquely skilled big man, but I saw someone that cared a lot.

Getting close to this time a year ago, it was announced via trade you were joining my team. Immediately, a bunch of basketball writers like myself started scrambling to figure how you would fit here, and how this team was going to play. One thing I never doubted was your passion on the court. Your attitude and swagger may have been something misinterpreted in other places around the league, but not here in the City of New Orleans.

This city is vibrant, unapologetic and expressive. Historically, its original rhythms changed the way we approach music forever throughout the world. There are a lot of outside forces that have visions of changing this 300-year-old city in a vision of their own, something more generic. Sure, the Big Easy is rough around some edges, and could use some refinement, but the people here will never compromise the makeup of their soul.

I can’t speak for you, but I feel like you connected with New Orleans and I want you to know this city very well connected with you. However you are feeling right now in this difficult moment, I hope you know your efforts are appreciated. As much as we want our team to have success, we also wanted it for you, a player that deserves more.

At the moment, I don’t want to study any league scenarios or discuss the direction of the team. I have no thoughts about what happens beyond tomorrow. I know you will work your ass off to get healthy and back on the court as soon as possible. Once again, determination is something I will never doubt in you.

I don’t know if you will read this or not, but your career has always demanded my attention and I want you to know that I have seen you do your job night in and out. I have noticed your desire to be even greater. I have noticed the emotional lift you have given your teammates and your fans. I have noticed the charity work, and your giving nature, for the folks of South Louisiana and throughout the Gulf Coast. For all of this, we believe in you as a player and an overall superb human being.

You came here to work. You have done your job. And we see you.

Once woven into the fabric, you are one of us, and you’re woven in for life no matter where you are or how old you have become.

Thank you, Boogie, for the work and what you put on the line on a nightly basis.

Play on,

Jesse Brooks