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Invisible Jersey by Mohamed Cisse

My name is Mohamed. I’m sixteen years old, the class of 2027, and before I tell you about myself, I want you to picture something.

Imagine a basketball player walking into the gym. He ties his shoes. He bounces the  ball and takes a couple form shots. To someone seeing this, it looks like a normal boy in a plain t-shirt, getting ready to train. But, in his mind he’s wearing a jersey. It’s stitched with his dream school’s name across the front. He sees the colors and the number even though nobody else can. That’s me. Every time I step on the court, I wear a jersey no one else can see. Some people call it imagination while others might call it delusion. I call it belief.

I was born in Mali, and I came to the United States around the age of 6 or 7. That’s an important part of who I am because it shaped the way I see life. Coming from a place where not everyone has opportunities, I understand that every chance I get here is a blessing. My dream isn’t just me either. It’s about the people back home, my family, and anyone who’s been told their goals are impossible. When I grind, I’m not just chasing a future for myself. I’m caring the hopes of the people who may never step on a court in America. The people who may never have the chance to chase something this big. That’s what fuels me.

I’m sixteen and about six foot- six one feet tall. To most people that just means I’m “the basketball kid.” But my story goes deeper. I don’t have a school team right now. I’m not the player with highlights reels and offers yet. What I have is work. Every jumper in the gym, every film study session, every moment I choose discipline over comfort, it’s me building my invisible jersey stitch by stitch. I know most people don’t see it and that’s okay. I’ve learned that what matters most is not what most people see today, but what you keep building when no one else is watching.

One of the biggest parts of who I am is my faith. I’m Muslim and Islam keeps me grounded in ways basketball couldn’t. Faith teaches me patience and resilience. When I step on the court and miss ten shots in a row, it’s frustrating. But Islam has taught me that life is full of tests, and tests aren’t there to break me. They are there to strengthen me. When I wake up before the sun to pray, when I push myself through another workout even though I’m tired, I remind myself that resilience isn’t just a personality trait, it’s worship. It’s showing gratitude to God through discipline and effort.

And it’s not just about sports. I want to succeed in school too. My goal is to make the honor roll not because I need the recognition but because I believe success isn’t one way. To me, being great on the court but careless in the classroom isn’t true success. True success is balance. It’s proving to myself that I can handle both. It’s building habits of discipline, whether I’m studying for a quiz or working on my jump shot. In a way education and basketball are similar because it’s a long and I want to win both.

When I look at myself, I don’t just see a basketball player. I see a Muslim. I see someone learning how to keep balance. I see someone who refuses to quit, no matter how hard things get. I see resilience not because things are handed to me, but because I’ve learned to keep pushing when the odds are against me.

So then who am I? I’m Mohamed. I’m sixteen, class of 2027, a kid born in Mali who came to the U.S. with dreams that sound impossible to some. I’m a basketball player who wears an invisible jersey. I’m a Muslim whose faith gives me strength. I’m a student who believes honor roll is just as important as a game winning shot.

Most importantly, I’m not chasing this dream just for myself. I’m chasing it for the people who need to see that impossible dreams are possible. For the kids who were told they aren’t good enough. For the families who came from far to give their children a chance. For everyone who can’t see the jersey yet but will one day.

My story isn’t about what you notice today. My story is about the unseen strength, the faith, and the resilience that will make that same jersey visible tomorrow.

 

Mohamed Cisse

September 9th, 2025