Year One 2020
A New Ode to the Life and Death of Alan Wiggins
Year One 2020
For so many years, I felt like I couldn’t tell a complete story about who I am or where I come from. Mostly because my identity was and is so tied/connected to sports, and it was just as hard for me to see myself as more than an athlete as it was for those who watched me compete.
But, upon entering a new decade and ultimately a new age of 33, I finally understand and feel my connection to someone whose life parallels mine in the most significant way— my father Alan Wiggins.
He never made it to 33. He was just one month shy of that birthday when he died from AIDS on this day in 1991. I was 3. I never knew him in the same sense as my older brother and sister, who could tell you so many details about his character and personality.
What I do feel is the connection to him through my plight as a professional athlete.
We both encountered a rise and fall that mirrors a similar trajectory; it has brought me to a similar point of isolation and loneliness, especially as an African-American woman.
What were his battles besides his own addictions and feelings of depression? A lot of it was hidden, as my father felt it was no one’s business what was going on in his life.
The greatest difference between me and him is that I completely rejected this notion, and continue to reject it today.
I always wanted to live for my father’s legacy, and now I have a deeper understanding of what that actually is.
To me, it means surviving the battles and living to speak up for the next generation so that they live just a little better than you do. My father, without realizing it, did that for me.
He dealt with the same matters that I dealt with. After living a life as an amateur athlete, he became a professional and struggled with fitting in with a “family” that found it hard to accept him for multiple reasons.
Like him, I often felt misunderstood. Unlike him, however, I fortunately had his story to serve as the greatest lesson for me.
It is why when I retired around the same age as him, I didn’t feel as hopeless as he did. He was released against his will, I made a smart decision to retire.
The family you are born into sometimes rejects and misunderstands you more than the outside world does. I experienced rejection in a similar way my father did. A lot of people, including family and friends, abandoned him after his release from MLB and diagnosis.
All of the torment he endured from the world would have to be buried with his legacy. I’m still alive, but I’ve felt that too. It seems a lot of times athletes’ stories that don’t fit into a perfect box are casted out or recycled for easier distribution.
The truth is, it has taken me a long time— a lifetime in fact— to get to the point where I’m perfectly comfortable sharing the 2 most difficult concepts that we learn on earth: life and death.
Sports has given both Candice and Alan Wiggins a second chance to live, which is why I want to give back in service to sports for the rest of my life. I also want to share more intimate details about the life and times of both me and my dad, because I know the best lessons to teach are the hard lessons that come from both pain and tragedy.
I write this ready to begin at year one. With hope and love in my heart for an enlightened population and a promising new generation. Youth sports is where my new story starts, and where everyone can meet me.
Here’s to love and legacy in 2020!
Candice W.
“It doesn’t change the tragedy, but it might change the trajectory of the pain.”
Four time All-American, WNBA Champion, Edutainer and Coach