“The boos did get to me”: Vince Carter on becoming the first Raptor to have his jersey retired

Congratulations: your number, 15, is the first to be raised to the rafters at Scotiabank Arena. How does it feel?

I’m still numb. I haven’t even processed making the Basketball Hall of Fame earlier this month. These past few weeks have been such a roller coaster.

In your Hall of Fame acceptance speech, you thanked about a million people​​. I was so worried I was going to forget someone. Talk about a pressure situation. At one point, I was just scanning the room, looking for people to shout out, like my old teammate Jerome “JYD” Williams. They gave me 10 minutes to speak. How could I keep it that short? I had 22 years in the NBA, three years in college, high school, the Olympics—plus all of my family.

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And you thanked the haters. Why? I hope people understand that comment was about fans dating all the way back to my time at the University of North Carolina, not just Toronto. Getting booed can be brutal, but it always motivated me to prove people wrong. It works both ways. When my seven-year-old son’s football team makes a nice tackle, and the crowd starts cheering, I tell him, “That’s your driving force.”

Raptors fans are once again in your corner, but after the team traded you to the New Jersey Nets in 2004, you became public enemy number one. Did you enjoy playing the villain? I didn’t. I never saw myself as a villain, but I knew that I was perceived as one. I would get a lot of “VC sucks!” or “You don’t have it anymore!” The boos did get to me sometimes. I’d get too hyped up and have to find my chi again.

After you left, what was the most difficult thing you’d hear from your fans back in Toronto? People told me that they wished I’d stayed—I heard that all the time, not just from the fans but from members of the organization. That was the hardest part: these were people who had been with me from the beginning, people who saw me drafted at 21 years old. But, in those days, I could never win the war of words with the media, so I just had to go about my business and let the wounds heal.

Much of the beef seemed to revolve around coach Sam Mitchell, your fourth coach in six years, and general manager Rob Babcock, who traded you to help deal with team dysfunction. Did you manage to find peace with those two? Sam and I are both analysts for Turner, so we’ve talked. He’s since defended me, which I didn’t ask him to do. And with Rob, we didn’t really have a beef. During our season together, we never even had a conversation. There was nothing to talk about. But I did manage to meet his son Nate in 2019. I told him my take on what happened in Toronto, and he told me that his dad was proud of me and my career. I just thought, Wow. Shortly thereafter, Rob passed away from cancer—may he rest in peace.

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Let’s revisit a happier memory: November 19, 2014. You were back in town as a member of the Memphis Grizzlies, and the Raptors played a tribute to you on the big screen. I was told beforehand that there might be a video shown, but I really didn’t know how it would go over.

What was going through your mind? At first, people booed. Then, as if watching a wrestling match, the crowd turned and gave you a standing ovation. It was the first time you had been cheered here in 10 years. I don’t remember hearing the boos. Being in that building, seeing those highlights—it allowed me to relive it all, and that’s when the emotions came out. When the video ended, I looked around, and people were cheering. It was unbelievable. But I’ve never relived it. I don’t want to taint that moment by watching a video of it.

You’re the only player in NBA history to play in four different decades. Most guys are out of the league after a few seasons. What made you want to play so long? It was love of hoop, first and foremost. When I was drafted, I told myself that I wanted to play 15 years—as many as Michael Jordan. If I could play that long, I knew I’d be doing something right. Then, once I got there, I still felt great physically, so I would keep adding years to the timeline. That’s how I got to 22 seasons. At 43, I was still motivated. I was disciplined enough to go to the gym at 10 p.m., lift weights and get up some shots. I would just procrastinate a bit more than in my younger days. I probably could have squeezed out one more year, but I felt ready to retire.

Your wife, Sondi, is a trainer. Does she help you stay fit? No, we don’t work together. The only time we trained was when the NBA went on hiatus at the beginning of the pandemic. I know how great she is at her job, but it’s good to have space.

What about your two young kids? They probably don’t know you as Half Man Half Amazing but rather as Dad in Sweatpants. Is parenthood humbling? My youngest doesn’t know about my career, but my son got a chance to see me play with the Atlanta Hawks. He’s asked to watch some of my highlights with me before bedtime, and he’s one of the reasons I was so emotional at the induction ceremony. On our way to the red carpet, he put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Dad, you’re going from being an all-star to a hall of famer. That’s amazing.” And I thought, Damn, you’re right. That’s something you’d expect an adult to say. To have your seven-year-old be proud of you—what that did for my heart—it was better than the Hall of Fame.

Will you and your foundation build more basketball courts in Toronto? I ask because, in 2003, you built a court in Dixon Park—before that, there weren’t many across the city. We plan on doing some work, building and refurbishing, slowly but surely. Dixon Park was my thank-you to Toronto. When I got here, I thought the lack of public courts was criminal, particularly since we had a pro team. I brought my family to see that court when Masai Ujiri announced my jersey retirement.

I want to talk about Inside nightclub, which you co-owned during the 2000s. It was the city’s first club to offer bottle service. Was that your way of making sure visiting players would be hungover on game day? Players coming to Toronto wanted to pop bottles, not go back and forth to the bar to order 40 drinks! I know because I used to frequent Inside, just like Fluid Lounge across the street, which was the thing as well. But I really need to shout out Travis Agresti, the owner of Inside, who brought me in. He could host visiting NBA teams whenever he wanted, but bringing me on helped it grow. If I ever got back into the business, it would be with Travis.

You’ll be calling a bunch of Raptors games this season with your old point guard, Alvin Williams. Did you two plan this? Alvin was always my guy, the teammate I talked to most. During my Hall of Fame speech, when I got to the section on the Raptors, he was the first person I mentioned. It was actually his idea to call games together. He presented it to Sportsnet and my agent, and here we are. Thing is, I also call games for TNT and the Brooklyn Nets, so I’m not sure how many will be with the Raptors. I’ll be travelling a lot between Atlanta, New York and Toronto. My Air Miles are gonna be crazy.

Let’s end by bringing it full circle. You cried when they gave you that video tribute. You cried when Masai announced your jersey retirement. You cried at your Hall of Fame ceremony. Will you cry when you see your number raised? It’s going to happen. I’ve never been afraid to cry—clearly! Since retiring, I’ve been so emotional. I guess I don’t have the warrior mentality anymore. I only see the world in the best light. I’m more sensitive to people’s feelings. When the playing career is over and you take those trips down memory lane, you get a greater appreciation. I was appreciative of that video. I was appreciative of Masai and his gesture. I was taken aback at being enshrined as a hall of famer. Not many players get the honour of having their jersey retired. I’m still smiling today because of it.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.