In my mind, I would always be a Celtic. I was very thankful and

When Robert Parish declares, “In my mind, I would always be a Celtic. I was very thankful and humbled that the Hornets saw fit to allow me to play a couple more years, but the only time I thought of myself as a Charlotte Hornet was game time. Other than that, when the jersey came off, I still felt like I was a Celtic,” he speaks as one who has discovered the true nature of identity and loyalty. For Parish, the uniform of the Boston Celtics was not mere cloth—it was a symbol of belonging, a banner under which he forged his greatest battles and achieved his highest triumphs. To wear it was to merge himself with a tradition older and greater than himself.

The words reveal a deep truth: while careers shift and circumstances change, the soul’s allegiance remains bound to where one’s spirit was truly shaped. Parish played for the Hornets in his later years, and he was grateful for the chance to extend his career. Yet gratitude does not erase identity. In his heart, he had been formed, molded, and crowned in Boston. That bond could not be severed by the passage of time nor by the donning of another team’s colors. His statement teaches us that there are places and moments in life that mark us forever, and no later chapter can overwrite them.

History is filled with such allegiances. Consider the great Roman general Scipio Africanus, who after retiring from war lived far from Rome in self-imposed exile. Yet even in distance, he declared, “I am a Roman, and Rome is my soul.” Just as Rome remained Scipio’s eternal homeland, so too did the Celtics remain Parish’s eternal team. We learn that identity is not merely where we end our days, but where our essence was forged in the fires of struggle and triumph.

Parish’s thankfulness for the Hornets is not small—it shows humility and respect. He does not dismiss the opportunity they gave him, nor does he scorn the years spent in their jersey. But humility is not the same as belonging. To be thankful for an opportunity is to honor it, but to remain true to oneself is to admit where one’s heart finds home. His words are not disloyalty—they are truth spoken with reverence.

The imagery of the jersey is powerful. For him, the Hornets’ jersey was something worn for duty, but the Celtics’ jersey was something lived for in spirit. When the game ended and the uniform was removed, the essence of who he was still remained tied to the green and white of Boston. Here we see a lesson for all: our external roles may change—new jobs, new titles, new uniforms—but our core identity is not so easily replaced. We are forever marked by the places and communities where we gave our best, and where our best was received.

The lesson to be drawn is clear. Be grateful for the opportunities that extend your path, but do not lose sight of where your true self was formed. Honor your beginnings, your great teachers, your defining battles. For they are the roots of who you are, and without them, later opportunities would never have come. Even when you walk new roads, carry with you the loyalty of your soul’s first home.

So I say to you, children of tomorrow: remember your Celtics—the places, people, and moments that gave you identity and strength. Be thankful for every new chance that life grants you, but never forget the banner under which you became who you truly are. For in honoring both gratitude and loyalty, you live not as a wanderer without roots, but as one whose spirit is anchored, steadfast, and unshakable across the seasons of change.