What This Theme Explores
Coming of Age in The Crossover follows twin brothers Josh Bell and Jordan "JB" Bell as they move from the easy symmetry of childhood into the messy, uncoordinated rhythm of adolescence. The theme probes how identity forms under pressure—of family legacy, competition, first love, and grief—and asks what it costs to grow separate from the person who feels like your other half. It also examines how rules (on the court and at home) shift from external commands into internal principles as the boys learn accountability. Above all, it shows that maturity isn’t a trophy you win but a way of carrying yourself when the game changes.
How It Develops
The story opens with the twins moving in lockstep—stars on the court, sons orbiting a larger-than-life father, and kids shaped by household “Basketball Rules.” Early poems like “Five Reasons I Have Locks,” “Basketball Rule #1,” and “Cut” (Cut) establish this shared identity and the comforts of a life defined by ritual, family, and winning.
Change arrives sideways through desire and difference. When Alexis first appears in “pul·chri·tu·di·nous” (pul·chri·tu·di·nous), JB follows a new path while Josh is left guarding an empty lane. The rift widens in “Third Wheel” and reaches a “tipping point” (tipping point), as jealousy exposes the fragile cords tying the brothers together. Adolescence here is not just romance; it’s the shock of finding out your mirror image has a life that doesn’t include you.
The conflict crests when Josh fires the infamous pass in “Before” (Before), an impulsive act that sidelines him—literally and figuratively. Suspension forces silence, reflection, and the first adult reckoning with consequence: relationships need repair work, not highlights. His apology poems, including “Dear Jordan,” show a new fluency—less swagger, more self-scrutiny.
Then the ground fully tilts. Chuck Bell’s health scare builds from hints and refusals into collapse and loss, with “At Noon, in the Gym, with Dad” (At Noon, in the Gym, with Dad) marking the shift from invincibility to mortality. In the aftermath, Josh and JB step into different versions of adulthood, using the court as a place to hold pain together. By “Free Throws” (Free Throws) and the final game, competition becomes communion, and victory is measured in how they honor what—and who—they’ve lost.
Key Examples
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The Haircut: After a bet goes wrong, JB clips Josh’s lock—then the barbershop finishes the job. Because Josh’s hair expresses his individuality and his connection to his father, the “calamity” signals a forced shedding of childhood. It’s the first visible break in the twins’ symmetry, and it inaugurates Josh’s uneasy search for a new self.
He opens the scissors,
grabs my hair
to slash a strand.
I don’t hear
my golden lock
hit the floor,
but I do hear
the sound
of calamity -
First Love and Jealousy: JB’s relationship with Alexis reassigns roles overnight, pushing Josh to the margins. In “Second-Person,” walking home alone becomes a rite of passage: the familiar “we” collapses into “you,” and solitude teaches Josh how separation feels before he chooses what to do with it. The ache is formative—it pushes him from reactive anger toward reflective growth.
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Confronting Mortality: The boys learn about their father’s pa·tel·la ten·di·ni·tis and his stubborn refusal to seek treatment, a revelation that humanizes their hero. When he collapses at the rec center, the myth of indestructibility vanishes, and the twins confront life’s fragility. Their coming of age is accelerated: victory now includes caretaking, grief, and showing up for their mother.
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Accepting Responsibility: After injuring JB, Josh’s suspension isolates him from the identity he trusts most—the game. His apology in “Dear Jordan” turns performance into accountability: instead of dazzling with words, he uses them to make amends. The growth isn’t instant, but it’s real—he begins to choose restraint over ego.
Character Connections
Josh’s arc drives the theme. As narrator, Josh “Filthy McNasty” Bell starts equating worth with style—his locks, his crossover, his bravado. Loss chips away at that armor. Learning to manage anger, sit with loneliness, and carry grief, loss, and mortality turns him from a highlight reel into a whole person whose game includes empathy.
Jordan “JB” Bell embodies the pull toward individuation. His romance with Alexis marks his first decisive step away from twinhood, and his reaction to Josh’s betrayal shows a newly forged boundary. Yet JB’s generosity in the end—especially the way he reknits their bond—models a mature brotherhood no longer based on sameness but on chosen loyalty.
As mentor and myth, Chuck “Da Man” Bell teaches through his “Basketball Rules,” but his flaws teach even more. His pride and refusal to see a doctor force his sons to recognize that role models are mortal and complicated. His death becomes the crucible in which the boys’ childhood melts, leaving behind the responsibilities and rituals of young adulthood.
Dr. Crystal Bell anchors the adult world of consequences and care. As assistant principal and mother, she enforces boundaries while modeling resilience, translating crisis into teachable clarity. Through her, the boys learn that love sometimes sounds like limits—and that stability is a form of courage.
Symbolic Elements
Josh’s Locks: The locks externalize identity, heritage, and pride. Their cutting is both humiliation and initiation, stripping away a visible certainty so a quieter, sturdier self can emerge.
The Basketball Court: At first a playground for swagger and skill, the court becomes a classroom where rules evolve into ethics—teamwork, restraint, and trust. The championship game measures growth not by points but by poise under pressure.
Dad’s Championship Ring: The ring condenses achievement, lineage, and the weight of legacy. When JB gives it to Josh, the gesture functions as a rite of passage: manhood is conferred not for winning but for carrying the family through loss with steadiness.
Contemporary Relevance
This coming-of-age story resonates with readers navigating first separations—new crushes, changing friendships, and the uneasy work of defining self apart from family. It speaks to teens living in the energy of sports and music, where identity is often performed before it’s understood. The Crossover validates the turbulence of these years while offering a hopeful path: you don’t outgrow your past; you learn how to honor it and move with it.
Essential Quote
Basketball Rule #10:
A good team has a good coach.
A great team has a coach who knows how to dance
through the storm.
This line reframes maturation as adaptability rather than dominance: greatness is the ability to keep rhythm when conditions turn hostile. For Josh and JB, “dancing through the storm” means transforming pain, jealousy, and loss into purpose, converting rules into lived wisdom. It is the clearest articulation of what growing up in The Crossover demands—grace under pressure and movement toward each other when the weather breaks.