AJ Dybantsa sat quietly in the bustling BYU athletic office, his fingers tracing the outline of the team’s logo embossed on his cap. The decision had been one of the hardest of his young life, yet as he sat there with a firm handshake from Coach Pope, the weight of it seemed to lift. He had made his choice, and for the first time in weeks, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
“I think I found my place,” AJ murmured to himself, a realization that had crept in over the course of his visit. There had been something about BYU’s “family atmosphere” that had spoken to him in a way that other programs hadn’t. It was more than just the dazzling facilities, the promise of great competition, or even the bright future that the team was building. It was about connection, about belonging.
AJ had visited plenty of other programs. He had sat through countless recruiting pitches, heard about championship hopes, and witnessed the polished presentations that promised stardom. But those visits always felt transactional. It felt like a business deal — coaches trying to sell him on their vision, players doing their best to impress, and fans eagerly watching, hoping for the next big recruit. Nothing felt organic. Nothing felt personal.
BYU was different.
It started the moment he stepped foot on the campus. From the moment he met Coach Pope, there was a sense of warmth that wrapped around him. The man didn’t just see AJ as a recruit, but as a future part of something larger, something with history and depth. “You belong here,” Coach Pope had told him. “This isn’t just about basketball; this is about family.”
AJ wasn’t sure if he could fully understand what Coach Pope meant until he spent more time with the players. They weren’t just teammates; they genuinely cared for one another. He saw them talking after practice, hanging out together, laughing, sharing stories. There was no hierarchy. The seniors didn’t see themselves as above the freshmen, and the freshmen didn’t feel out of place. It was a mutual respect that permeated every interaction.
The camaraderie wasn’t forced, either. On his visit, AJ had joined them for a team dinner, and it felt effortless, like he’d been part of the group for years. Players of all ages and backgrounds talked about everything from basketball drills to their shared faith, and even their aspirations off the court. AJ found himself laughing along with the others, not feeling like an outsider, but like someone who had known them for years. It was rare for him to feel that level of connection, especially when so much of his life had been spent moving from place to place, being pulled between different places and expectations.
What struck AJ most was how much the coaching staff echoed this idea. Every coach, every player, every mentor, all emphasized the same theme: it wasn’t just about winning games, but about developing character, growing together, and lifting one another up. They spoke about how they would support each other through the highs and the lows, both on and off the court. It wasn’t just a team; it was a family.
That’s why, when it came time to sign his commitment letter, the decision felt right. AJ wasn’t just joining a program; he was joining a community. The pressure of being one of the most highly rated recruits in the country hadn’t weighed him down as much as he thought it would. Instead, it had been the connection he felt at BYU—the reassurance that he wasn’t just another name on a roster, but an integral part of something much bigger.
As he signed his name on the dotted line, AJ felt a sense of peace wash over him. He had found his home, and it was in Provo. The journey ahead would be challenging, but it wouldn’t be one he had to face alone. He was ready to grow, to work hard, and to contribute to a family that was as focused on unity as it was on success.
“This is where I belong,” AJ thought to himself with certainty, a feeling that made him proud to wear that BYU cap.