The Miami Heat retired jersey #33 on Monday, March 30th. 3/30/09: the date has some threes in there to match Zo’s favorite number.

And I didn’t watch a lick of it.

I know – sad thing to say for the guy who started this site as a testament to his love for his Heat, but it’s true. I completely forgot.

I was looking to buy tickets about a week ago and then realized it was just way out of my budget range. So, I opted to watch on TV instead. Stupid me. I just got caught up in life and forgot.

Zo, however, is an unforgettable figure for Heat fans – especially for myself.  I recall the shock, the numbness that beset my body as I thumbed through the sports page in 1995 when he was traded to Miami. I had just finished up my high school days and was blown away by getting the guy who lead Charlotte into the playoffs. It was his passion, his fire, his intensity that Riley must have been drawn to. That and the fact that he just left another Georgetown product in NY and found the next best thing to Patrick Ewing. Some would argue, he was possibly better.

We read the stories about Zo – about how he slep in a dresser drawer as a baby. We all wept when we saw the press conference announcing his kidney disease to the world. How could you not feel for a guy who had done nothing but feel for every game, every moment, leaving every ounce of sweat on the court in calorie-laden puddles after each game.

How could you forget the look of shock when we all watched the Knicks – and Allen Houston’s miracle tip-in – celebrate on our floor knocking the Heat out of the playoffs. Again.

And how could you not feel the joy and the relief as Mourning clutched that golden trophy after the ultimate comeback in the Finals in 2006. Staring at his own reflection, you could see that all the practices and hardwork had culminated in that one moment for Zo – when he rejoined the Heat to help them push for that title.

I remember the standing ovation he received on his first night back in Miami for the 2004-2005 season. He had left Toronto, without setting foot there, to join the Heat where he would eventually hang it up essentially coming over from New Jersey where he spent two seasons.

The rafters will bear the weight of his accomplishments; probably as the greatest single Heat player of his generation. I bet the reception was deafening and the speech of thanks Zo must have gave must have been equally moving. I may have not been there personally to witness it, or even set aside the time to watch it on TV, but I definitely feel connected to his character as he lifted this franchise and this city upon his chiseled shoulders for 11 years.

Congratulations Zo. And most of all, thank you.