Last weekend, I had the opportunity to attend a fundraiser for a small Christian school, and while the goal was to support education, the real surprise came in the form of guest speaker Christian Laettner. Known for his iconic basketball career, Laettner showed up not in a tailored suit or behind a podium, but in a baseball cap, t-shirt, joggers, and athletic shoes. Unshaven and relaxed, he brought with him an energy that felt more like a conversation in a friend’s garage than a polished keynote speech. It wasn’t flashy or rehearsed—in fact, it was the opposite—but that’s what made it memorable.

Laettner’s talk meandered in the best way. His slow cadence and occasional dry humor gave life to stories that spanned from Duke basketball and Olympic memories to family trips, concerts, and moments coaching kids. The structure of his talk was loosely held together by audience questions, which he welcomed freely, often letting those queries send him down spontaneous paths of memory. While some might call it disorganized, I found it genuine—like hearing stories from someone who’s lived fully and honestly, without trying to sell you anything.

What stuck with me most was the sense of purpose Laettner seems to have found post-basketball. Whether it’s attending fundraisers like this one or pouring into kids through his basketball camps, he’s clearly not just resting on his past glory. He’s showing up, raw and real, still giving. I don’t hate Christian Laettner—in fact, I left the event with a deeper respect for the man behind the legend. He’s flawed, unpolished, and authentic—and maybe that’s exactly what this world needs more of.