Nobody has had a rooting interest in Colorado’s climate for reasons more unusual than Reggie Jackson’s in high school.

He thinks it was fall of his sophomore year. By then, he had lived in Colorado Springs since sixth grade and found close friends in Palmer High School teammates Zach Hawkins and Jonathan Burnley.

Whenever it was, he and Burnley were at Hawkins’ house — where they spent most of their free time — when Hawkins’ stepmom mentioned she was waiting for the first snow of the season to collect a sample for an ice cream recipe. Jackson had never heard of such a concept.

“And one day I think we were actually staying the night at his house, and luckily we got snowed in,” Jackson said. “She made the first batch, and I fell in love. I couldn’t wait for the first snowfall every winter after that.”

Jackson, 33, has been back in Colorado since February, when he signed with the Nuggets after Charlotte bought out his contract. Ten months later, he has won his first NBA championship, climbed into Denver’s 2023-24 rotation as Jamal Murray’s backup, and positioned himself as the Nuggets’ sixth man thanks to his exceptional play as an interim starter while Murray was injured early this season. In 14 starts, Jackson averaged 16.9 points, 5.4 assists and 46.8% 3-point shooting.

Jackson’s formative years were spent in Colorado Springs, where he lived through the end of high school after moving around frequently the first decade of his life. The first hints of an NBA career were on display in the Hawkins driveway, where Jackson and his two friends spent hours playing “king of the court,” and gymnasiums throughout the region where Jackson’s highlights still linger in the mountain air.

As he created those memories for the local prep community, Jackson also established his own community that he never relinquished, even as his career pulled him away from Colorado for 15 years.

Palmer v. Doherty

When Jackson and Hawkins met at Russell Middle School, “naturally, at first we didn’t like each other,” according to Hawkins. “At all.”

He was a year younger than Jackson, also playing guard for the middle school team. Both were competitive. Hawkins fancied trash-talking every chance he got. Jackson didn’t reciprocate. Even if he air-balled a shot with Hawkins defending him, his demeanor would remain unchanged as Hawkins taunted him. Jackson was cocky — he knew he was talented — but it was a poised, matter-of-fact confidence rather than a brash flavor.

“He just wouldn’t ever let it get to him,” Hawkins said. “I’m like, ‘Dude, I know it bothers you. I know it does.’ He was just so dang good.”

Hawkins’ dad, Rob, was an assistant coach at Mitchell High School under Jimmy Grantz. During Jackson’s eighth-grade year, a recruiting battle started to swirl as word of his talent spread across the state. Jackson says it was common knowledge that he and his dad were somewhat nomadic; they had even moved a couple of times within the Colorado Springs area. “People started calling him to get him to transfer,” Rob Hawkins said. “People were trying to get him to come to Denver.”

The epicenter of Jackson’s recruitment was more intimate. Russell Middle School was a feeder into Doherty High, the archrival of Palmer. But as ninth grade neared, Jackson and his dad lived in an apartment on the Palmer side of the district line. Doherty gave its best effort to encourage a move, which technically wasn’t illegal since Jackson was in Doherty’s own feeder.

“We had several talks with Reggie at the time,” said Dominic Aragon, who coached at Doherty as well as Sabin Middle School. “… He was probably the missing piece for us to have our state championship.”

Over at Mitchell, Grantz and Rob Hawkins weren’t involved in all that. Until Grantz was offered the head coaching job at Palmer, which had a timely vacancy. Grantz told Hawkins he didn’t plan to take the job unless Hawkins came with him. “From a basketball standpoint,” Hawkins said, “we’re gonna get the best point guard in the state next year if we go.”

Grantz was confused at first. He thought Hawkins was talking up his own son. Jackson’s reputation was growing, sure, but he wasn’t considered best-in-the-state good. But Hawkins was the earliest advocate for Jackson’s ceiling.

Grantz took the job. Hawkins followed. Jackson and his dad decided they didn’t want to move again. “We ended up losing out,” Aragon said.

“Reggie, he’s the reason they took that job,” Zach Hawkins said, laughing.

The legend of Reggie

Everyone who played with or against Jackson in Colorado Springs has their own singular memory of his teenage talent, yet everyone has the same memory, too.

“At the middle school level, sometimes it’s hard to really appreciate how good a kid was,” former Doherty player Zach Ilse said. “But you could just kind of sit back and if we needed a bucket, we all knew who we were gonna turn to.”

A forgotten moment during a regional All-Star game rout lives on for Doherty’s James Webb, who was in the same class as Jackson. They were both on the winning side, goofing around and trying to make cool plays. Jackson did more than try. He surprised everyone by intentionally missing a free throw off the backboard, then off the rim, allowing the ball to hang in the air for a self-alley-oop. As Webb remembers it, the refs were so confused they wrongly whistled the play dead. “He smashed it down,” Webb said. “I was on the line with him, and he jumped right over me. I think he took one step off the free throw line.”

Burnley recalls a Palmer-Doherty game in which Jackson was double-teamed (triple-teamed, even? Burnley thinks so) on the perimeter. Whatever the coverage was, Burnley was wide open under the basket. But Jackson launched a shot from NBA range instead. “It’s a big game, right? We’re all trying to ball out,” Burnley said. “I’m screaming at him for the ball and he just hits it like it was nothing. I just shut up. Like, alright. I guess I can’t say nothing.”

Rob Hawkins used to battle with Jackson over his workout regimen. Jackson wanted to go to the YMCA to lift weights and practice shooting at 5 a.m. every day of the school week. Problem was, he needed a ride. “I said, ‘Buddy, we’re in season, I don’t know,’” Hawkins recalled. Jackson retorted that Michael Jordan did it. “Yeah, not while he was in high school,” Hawkins said, attempting to emphasize the importance of rest for athletes. Jackson’s line that made him cave: “Coach, if I don’t do it, I’m not gonna make it. You want me to make it, right?”

Aragon was struck by Jackson’s casual athleticism in a non-basketball setting. Jackson was at the coach’s house occasionally because he was in the same social circle as Aragon’s daughter. One night, a group was hanging out in Aragon’s backyard hot tub. Jackson needed to leave, but he told Aragon he would be back in 30 minutes. He would knock on the front door when he returned, and Aragon would let him in. “So I’m sitting up, waiting and waiting,” Aragon remembers. Eventually, he poked his head out the backdoor. There was Jackson, in the hot tub like he never left. “Reggie, man, you were supposed to come and get me so I could let you in the front,” Aragon told him. “No worries, Coach,” he remembers Jackson saying. “I’ve got mad hops, so I just hopped over the fence.” It was about 6 feet.

It’s possible the details of those memories have become inflated for dramatic effect over the years. That’s how it usually goes when a hometown kid like Jackson becomes famous; he also becomes mythologized back home. In fact, Palmer’s coaches always thought Jackson didn’t get the props he deserved in high school. Grantz remembers a Rocky Mountain News midyear All-State team that didn’t include Jackson during his senior season. Jackson brought the paper to school, offended. Burnley remembers a fight breaking out at a party over who the best player in Colorado Springs was.

But there is one moment that’s immortalized by consensus. Ask anyone from Palmer or Doherty at the time, and they’ll mention the block. It was 2007-08, Jackson’s senior season. The rivalry matchup was always the event of the year. To have a seat for the varsity game, one needed to show up 30 minutes before JV tipoff. The dedicated got rewarded: After Zach Hawkins telegraphed a pass that turned into a Doherty breakaway, Jackson pursued at a full sprint and pinned the layup attempt against the backboard.

“I’d seen Reggie do some impressive stuff,” Rob Hawkins said, “but when I saw that…”

“It was LeBron-esque,“ Ilse said.

”Three quarters of the court was open,” Webb said. “I have never seen somebody so athletic.”

Jackson cherishes the block as a breakout moment, even though he had already started earning more media hype by then. It still comes up in conversations with his buddies. “For it to happen amongst friends … it felt like I was ascending,” he said.

There’s only one point of uncertainty. The way most everyone remembers it, the chase-down was right after the opening tip. Palmer went on to win an exciting game.

Jackson disagrees. He’s determined it was in overtime.

Maybe he’s right. Or maybe there’s a bit of self-mythologizing that happens as time passes, too.

Chipped teeth, resilient friendships

Hawkins’ stepmom made two or three gallons of snow ice cream per batch. The finished product was stored in big canisters overnight. The flavor never varied from vanilla. Jackson usually ate a gallon in one sitting.

“That was probably the best part of it,” Jackson said. “You knew it was made with love.”

The remainder of high school, blizzards were sacred. His craving was dependent on the Colorado elements.

The friendship between Jackson, Hawkins and Burnley has spanned years and survived petty teenage fallouts. Burnley played running back for the high school football team. Hawkins and Jackson played receiver. But Jackson’s senior year, Palmer needed a quarterback. Jackson volunteered. The team started 3-0 before Jackson chipped a tooth during a game. A basketball scholarship was waiting for him at Boston College by then. He didn’t want to take any more chances, so he quit. The season went down the drain. Hawkins and Burnley didn’t talk to him for a while.

But the strength of their friendship was never in doubt. When winter arrived, they were back in Palmer High’s gymnasium, and back in Hawkins’ house, bonded by basketball and snow ice cream.

“I feel bad for them,” Jackson said. “I know they’re my best friends, and they love me. They truly love me. I’m lactose-intolerant, so you can imagine what those nights were like, hanging out and kicking it after eating.”

Surprise visits

A few weeks ago, Zach Hawkins heard a knock on his front door. He still lives in Colorado Springs. He has a family with four children now. It was a weeknight.

Reggie Jackson was standing outside.

“He just showed up,” Hawkins said.

Jackson had decided to make the one-hour drive from Denver to say hello, not worrying about the possibility that Hawkins might not be home, or be available. It was an off night for the Nuggets. If the trip was a waste, “it’s only two hours,” Jackson reasoned. They ended up sitting and chatting for three hours. They discussed plans for Jackson to visit again soon and catch a high school JV game. Hawkins’ son is getting started on his school’s team.

“That’s the best part of being back,” Jackson said. “If I have the urge to go see somebody, I can just go drive down there. Getting to see my childhood friends, their families grow, and getting to experience that and actually be around. Being gone so long in the NBA, it’s fun to finally have these moments and be close to them. I’m happy to be back home.”