A Letter to Bama Nation
3/5/2024 9:04:00 PM | Gymnastics
Written by: Makarri Doggette
Family.
A bond that can never be broken, no matter what tries to pull it a part.
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Five years ago, I was introduced to a certain family I didn't know how much I'd need during my time in Tuscaloosa. It was January 10, 2020. The lights went out in Coleman Coliseum and the fans got loud. I walked up to the stage as my name was called and, suddenly, they… you… were cheering and screaming for me, the freshman version of Makarri, about to make her debut as a collegiate gymnast.
In that moment, I knew you would always have my back. I can't explain it but ask any past or present Alabama gymnast and they would say the same thing – you're not just our fans. You're our biggest supporters. You make Coleman more than just a coliseum, but a home.
You know the legacy and historic success of this program. You know the foundation of our program is built on a tradition of excellence. You know that because you have witnessed it. You want us to be great because you have seen this program consistently be great. And in return, all we ever want is to be great for you every Friday night.
And for five years, that was something I always strived to do – perform to the best of my abilities to put this team, and my sisters, in the best position possible to succeed night in, night out. Competing as an Alabama gymnast with 18 of my best friends, and especially competing in front of you? That is something I will always cherish.
If I'm honest, I didn't know how good I had it. Until recently.
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I guess it's time to finally address the elephant in the room, huh?
On February 23 against Georgia, I suffered a season-ending injury and tore my Achilles during warmups. Despite what my heart was trying to tell me, I knew right away it was serious. Trying to ignore the pit in my gut, there was still a voice in my head saying "maybe it's not as bad as we think; it's serious, but maybe it won't be that bad … right?"
I knew it was serious, I knew my night was done, but with all the adrenaline of the meet literally about to start, the concept of my career as an Alabama gymnast now being over was not something that, honestly, I wanted to accept or think about in that moment.
All I wanted to do was to get back in the arena and be with my teammates. To be in front of you. Because despite all the thoughts running in my head, I remembered that one thought I had when I was a freshman – Coleman Coliseum would always have my back. So out I went, with my scooter and all, and stayed as present as I could for my girls.
And what a night my girls had! Scoring 198 and setting a new program record on floor? On the 20th anniversary of Power of Pink? You can't write a better script than that.
Once the adrenaline goes away, though, once the high of the meet's outcome dies down, it's hard not to question if that script had to be written as precisely as it was. It's hard not to get stuck in your head, asking questions of "why me, why now, was this necessary?" It's hard to stay positive when your heart is broken over the fact that your season – your career – is now finished.
It's hard. There's no denying that. In the recent days, though, I've come to understand the critical importance of one word.
Joy.
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Joy is something that requires the utmost surrender and, like love, is a choice to be made every day and in every moment.
That's not saying that by being joyful, all the problems of your life will go away or that all the negative thoughts will dissipate, but that despite the problems, despite those thoughts, there is still an opportunity to earnestly seek the positives of whatever situation you find yourself in, and to grasp hold of that with both hands and let it carry you.
With the extra amount of down time I now have as of late, I've had the opportunity to think back on my career. I've had the pleasure of remembering all the memories I've made here in Tuscaloosa, all the road trips with my teammates, all the late-night braiding sessions our team would have in hotel rooms on road trips, all the inside jokes, all the memories I've made with you – our biggest supporters.
And those memories have slowly helped navigate me down the path of choosing to find joy where I'm at, with what I've been dealt.
Through all of this, I am slowly learning what it means to be human.
I am slowly learning how to forgive the past, how to accept that, sometimes, beautiful things end, that sometimes the timing isn't right and that the messiness of life can get in the way.
I am learning what it means to make mistakes and to learn from them; what it means to be both happy and sad at the same time. I'm learning how to stop running from what is heavy and uncomfortable in my life.
But most of all, I am learning how to just be, in this moment. How to exist. How to understand that I cannot control life, that I can only experience it in both its light and its dark stages. I am learning how to laugh and cry and feel – through all of it. How to accept where I am. How to simply believe in the person I am becoming.
I am learning how to welcome the confusion and the joy that comes with loving, and living, and breaking.
I'm slowly learning how to not be upset at things coming to an end, but rather, how to appreciate how lucky I was – and am – to experience something so real, so hopeful and that's light in a world that sometimes fails to be soft.
Because, truly, I really am so grateful. The University of Alabama is one of a kind, this team is one of one, and you, our supporters, are one of the greatest gifts a student-athlete could ever ask for when competing.
On my good days, I remember the memories I've made with my girls and the conversations I've had with you after our meets, signing autographs and just being able to say "thank you", in person, for your support of both myself and our team as a whole. On my bad days? I relive those memories, because I know how much joy, gratefulness and love is held inside of every single memory I've ever created these last five years.
And while my season may be over, our season is nowhere close.
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This group is special. And I think you've noticed that over the course of this season. We're not just doing gymnastics, we're playing it. And it's that philosophy that Coach Ashley Johnston and her staff has brought in these last couple years that has opened the door for bigger and more freeing performances. We're going big, we're trying new things, we're creating our own momentum in a way that will best serve us, within our Bama Bubble.
But we're not done.
We've heard how loud you've been at our four home meets, but there's still one more. This Friday, March 8, we will compete in front of you for the final time this season. While we cannot wait to perform in front of you, the best supporters in the country, for one last time, I cannot help but to reminisce back to my freshman self that night on January 10, 2020. If I could tell her one thing to prepare for, I would whisper in her ear and say:
You're about to start one of the best chapters of your life; your family is about to grow.
You're our backbone and our season is just getting started. No one else can play your part but you. Give us everything you have, and you already know we'll do the same for you. We need you!
Simply put – we need our family.
Our motto this season is For The Fam. Pretty cool, huh? Because no matter what else comes our way this season, the bond of this family can never be broken, no matter what tries to pull us apart.
Because it's always been For The Fam. And it always will be.
- Makarri
