Janitor Who Believed in LeBron James for 20 Years Falls on Hard Times — Until LeBron Steps In
Marcus Washington first saw greatness in a quiet high school gym in Akron, Ohio. It was 1999, and he was working as a janitor at St. Vincent-St. Mary High School when he found a 14-year-old LeBron James practicing alone after hours. Instead of kicking the teen out, Marcus stayed and rebounded for him. “You’re already better than most of the varsity,” Marcus told him. “But I believe you can be the best ever.”
That night sparked a bond that would endure through championships, defeats, and two decades of life’s harsh turns. Marcus, who had mopped that gym floor and offered encouragement to a young LeBron long before the world knew his name, kept believing. He watched as LeBron fulfilled every promise—becoming an NBA legend, a champion, a global icon.
But while LeBron soared, Marcus struggled. After losing his job with the Cavaliers when LeBron left for Miami in 2010, Marcus bounced between low-paying jobs—gas stations, cleaning offices, security work. Years of exposure to cleaning chemicals led to chronic kidney disease. With mounting medical bills and a failing back, Marcus quietly sold off the few pieces of LeBron memorabilia he’d collected over the years—except one: the high school jersey LeBron had gifted him on the eve of the NBA draft.
That jersey symbolized something sacred. “You believed in me before anyone else did,” LeBron had said when he handed it over. But 20 years later, faced with eviction and no way to afford treatment, Marcus made the hardest decision of his life. He listed the jersey online, and it quickly fetched $18,500 from a collector in Seattle.
Unbeknownst to Marcus, his story—first shared in a quiet article by a local journalist—soon went viral. A popular basketball podcast picked it up. Fans from across the country were touched. More importantly, the story reached someone else: LeBron James himself.
Three days later, Marcus received a call from a blocked number. The voice on the line was unmistakable.
“Marcus Washington,” said LeBron. “It’s been a long time.”
In a heartfelt conversation, LeBron thanked Marcus for being the first to believe in him. “Those words you told me in that gym? They stayed with me. Through every high and every low,” LeBron said. Then came a surprise: LeBron had bought the jersey back. But he wasn’t keeping it.
“That jersey belongs with you,” LeBron said. “Always has.”
But there was more.
Through the LeBron James Family Foundation, Marcus was offered a new job—working at the I PROMISE School in Akron, mentoring kids who needed guidance, just like he once gave a young LeBron. Full medical coverage, relocation assistance, and a fresh start.
For Marcus, the offer was more than financial rescue—it was dignity. It was purpose. “You believed in me when I was just a kid,” LeBron said. “Now it’s my turn to believe in you.”
Two weeks later, Marcus walked into the I PROMISE School for his first day of work. The jersey was waiting for him, preserved in a proper display case. Nearby, a plaque read: “To the man who helped shape a King.”
The janitor who once stayed late to rebound for a teenage LeBron James had found a new court—a new purpose—and a reminder that belief, once given, has a way of coming full circle.
