It's weird that I'm putting my old green and gold jersey, and

The athlete Devon Cajuste, standing at the threshold between past and future, once said: “It’s weird that I’m putting my old green and gold jersey, and I’m moving on to the cardinal and white. I’m a Stanford Cardinal.” Though spoken of a jersey, of colors, and of a game, these words echo with the eternal voice of change. For they remind us that life is a journey of transitions, where the familiar must be laid down, and the new must be embraced, no matter how strange it feels at first.

To remove the old green and gold jersey is to release what has been — the place where battles were fought, friendships forged, and identity shaped. Jerseys are not mere cloth; they are symbols of belonging, of community, of memory. To take it off is to acknowledge that a chapter has closed. This act is always tinged with sorrow, for in leaving behind the familiar, we also leave behind a part of ourselves. Yet such endings are the doorway to new beginnings.

To don the cardinal and white is to step into a new identity, to embrace fresh challenges, to declare allegiance to a new family. Here is the courage of renewal: the willingness to stand once more as the “new one,” unproven, untested, ready to carve out new memories in a new land. Cajuste’s words capture that mixture of strangeness and excitement that comes whenever one leaves behind what was comfortable to embrace what could be.

History, too, reflects this truth. Consider the story of Alexander Hamilton, who left the Caribbean islands of his birth and came to the colonies of America with nothing but his ambition and his mind. He shed the colors of his past and took up the cause of a new nation. Though at first a stranger, he made himself indispensable, writing, fighting, and serving until his name became forever entwined with the United States. Like Cajuste, he too once looked at himself and thought, “It feels strange to leave the old, but now I belong to something new.”

The heart of Cajuste’s reflection is this: identity is not frozen in one place, one role, or one uniform. It is a river that flows, reshaping itself with each new bend. To cling forever to the past, refusing to change colors, is to stagnate. To embrace the future, though it feels uncertain, is to grow. The one who dares to wear new colors dares to discover new strength within himself.

The lesson for us all is clear: do not be afraid when life calls you to exchange your “jersey.” Whether it be moving to a new city, starting a new job, entering a new stage of life, or leaving behind what you have known, remember that your worth is not lost when you change garments — it is carried forward, strengthened by what came before. The old prepares you for the new, and the new stretches you into greatness yet unseen.

Practical wisdom follows: when you feel the strangeness of change, honor your past but do not be bound by it. Give thanks for the memories, the colors, the victories and losses that shaped you. Then step forward boldly into your new season, ready to create fresh bonds and new triumphs. Wear your new colors with pride, not as a rejection of the old, but as the next chapter of your unfolding story.

So remember, O listener, the words of Devon Cajuste: “I’m moving on to the cardinal and white. I’m a Stanford Cardinal.” In these words lies the eternal journey of us all — leaving behind the old, embracing the new, and finding strength in the courage to keep moving forward. For life itself is a succession of jerseys, each one preparing us for the next battle, the next family, the next victory.