The alarm went off at 5:30 AM, but I was already awake. My body felt different - not sore like it should have been after that intense practice, but energized. Like the Jerry Rice conditioning was helping me recover faster than normal.
Cameron was still dead asleep, snoring like a freight train. I grabbed my workout gear and headed out quietly.
The campus was quiet as hell at this hour. Just a few maintenance workers and some crazy runners getting their miles in. The May morning air was cool, nothing like the humid Chicago mornings that made you want to crawl back into bed.
The athletic center was buzzing when I walked in at 5:50. About twenty football players were getting ready for the 6 AM weight session, looking like they'd rather be anywhere else.
"Williams!" Coach Thompson called out when he saw me. He was a thick, muscular Black man who looked like he could still bench press a car. "Ready for your first Malibu Prep weight session?"
"Yeah, let's do it."
"Good. We do things different here. Everything's tracked, everything's measured."
He handed me a heart rate monitor and some kind of fitness tracker.
"Strap this on your chest, put this on your wrist. They track your heart rate, power output, rest periods, all that shit. You'll get a report after."
I looked around the weight room. This place was bigger than most gyms back home. Machines I'd never seen before, Olympic platforms, racks that probably cost more than everything in our old weight room combined.
"We train in groups by position," Coach Thompson continued. "Receivers, DBs, and running backs together. Explosive power, speed, agility."
Tyler Brooks walked in with Derek Chen and Alex Morrison, all wearing matching gear that looked expensive as hell.
"What's up, Jakari," Tyler said, but something was different in his voice. "Ready for some real training?"
"Been ready."
"This ain't planet fitness, bro," Alex said.
I just nodded. Whatever, man.
Coach Thompson blew his whistle. "Skill position players! Four stations today. Bench press, hang cleans, back squats, and dumbbell plyos. Eight minutes each station, then rotate."
He pointed to the different areas set up around the weight room.
"This isn't max out day, so work at about 85% of your max. Focus on form and explosive movement."
Tyler went to bench first. I headed to the box jump and dumbbell station. They had various dumbbells set up with 30-inch boxes for step-ups and lateral jumps.
I grabbed some 35-pound dumbbells and started with step-ups on the box. Eight reps each leg, focusing on explosive movement up and controlled descent.
"Nice form," said Coach Thompson as he walked by. "Keep that core tight."
Next was dumbbell snatches - explosive pull from the ground to overhead. The Jerry Rice experience was helping with the timing and coordination.
After eight minutes, we rotated. Hang cleans next. I worked up to 205 pounds, focusing on the technique Coach Thompson was calling out.
"Triple extension! Hips, knees, ankles! Catch it clean!"
Bench press station was next. Nothing crazy, just worked up to 225 for some solid reps. The other guys were doing similar weights.
Back squats last. 275 pounds felt good - controlled descent, explosive drive up.
"Good depth, Williams," Coach Thompson said. "Keep that chest up."
By the end, everyone was sweating but it felt like a solid training session. Nothing record-breaking, just good work.
Last was abs. Coach Thompson had us doing this circuit from hell - planks, Russian twists, leg raises, mountain climbers, bicycle crunches. Three rounds, one minute each exercise, thirty seconds rest between.
My core was burning by the end, but I finished strong. Everyone else was struggling through the last round.
"Good work, men," Coach Thompson said. "Hit the showers, then nutrition."
In the locker room, Tyler pulled me aside.
"Where'd you train in Chicago?"
"Just high school stuff, man."
"High school stuff doesn't get you those numbers."
I shrugged. "Don't know what to tell you."
Tyler's jaw was tight. "We'll see how you do against real competition."
"Looking forward to it."
After breakfast, I headed to classes. Chemistry was still kicking my ass, but at least I was starting to understand some of it.
-----
I stood outside Coach Holloway's office, staring at the door for the third time in ten minutes. My hands were sweating, and that wasn't from the workout I'd just finished.
Ten days ago, I wouldn't have been caught dead begging to get back on the basketball team. Too much pride for that shit. But things were different now. I was different now.
The promise I'd made to Jakari and the boys was real. No more weed, no more street shit, no more wasting my talent. Time to become a better man.
But damn, this was harder than I thought it would be.
I knocked on the door.
"Come in."
Coach Holloway was sitting behind his desk, grading papers or some shit. He looked up when I walked in, and his expression wasn't exactly welcoming.
"Dre. What can I do for you?"
I took a deep breath and did something I never thought I'd do in my life.
I bowed my head.
"Coach, I want to come back to the team."
He leaned back in his chair, studying me. "You want to come back."
"Yes sir."
"After you quit on us in the middle of the season. After you showed up to practice high. After you disrespected me, your teammates, and this program."
Each word hit like a punch to the gut, but I kept my head down.
"I know I fucked up, Coach. I know I let everybody down."
"Language, son."
"Sorry. I know I messed up bad. I ain't got no excuse for what I did."
Coach Holloway was quiet for a long moment. When I finally looked up, he was watching me with those sharp eyes that never missed nothing.
"What's changed, Dre? Why should I believe you're any different now than you were a couple months ago?"
"Because I made a promise. To my boys, to myself. We all promised to get our lives together, stop wasting our potential."
"And you think basketball is going to fix your life?"
"Nah, Coach. I think I got to fix my life first, then maybe basketball can be part of it."
I reached into my backpack and pulled out a folder.
"I been going to the gym every day for a couple days. Lost four pounds, getting my conditioning back. Been staying clean, no weed, no parties, none of that shit."
"Language."
"Sorry. None of that stuff."
I handed him the folder. "Got my grades up too. Been going to tutoring, doing all my homework. Turned in every assignment this week."
Coach Holloway opened the folder and looked through my recent test scores, my attendance records, the gym membership I'd been using.
"This is a good start, Dre. But I need more than ten days of good behavior."
"I know, Coach. I ain't asking to start or nothing. I just want a chance to show you I changed. Let me practice with the team, let me prove myself."
"The season's over, son. We won't start again until November."
"I know. But don't y'all do summer workouts? Off-season training?"
Coach Williams set down the folder and looked at me for a long time.
"Why basketball, Dre? You could do track, you could focus on academics, you could get a job. Why this?"
I thought about how to answer that without sounding stupid.
"Because basketball is the only thing I was ever really good at. Before I started fucking up, before I got caught up in the streets, I was nice on the court. You remember."
"I remember a kid with tremendous talent who threw it all away."
"Yeah. That's exactly what I did. And I been thinking about that every day since Jakari left for California."
"What's Jakari got to do with this?"
"Everything, Coach. He got a chance to change his life, to make something of himself. And here I am, still in Chicago, still making the same mistakes."
I felt my voice getting thick, but I kept going.
"My boy Tayshawn is dead. Jakari's out in California making plays on some rich kids' football team. Rico's been going to the batting cages every day, trying to get back on the baseball team. Marcus is working to get back on soccer before he tries out for one of them MLS Next teams. And what am I doing? Sitting around feeling sorry for myself."
Coach Holloway nodded slowly. "So this is about guilt."
"Nah, it's about not wasting what God gave me. Jakari always said I had the most natural talent out of all of us. Said I could play Division I if I stopped fucking around."
"Language."
"Sorry. If I stopped messing around."
"And you think you can just waltz back in here after quitting on us?"
I bowed my head again. "No sir. I think I got to earn my way back. Do whatever you want me to do. Run laps, clean the gym, carry water, whatever. I just want a chance to show you I'm serious."
Coach Williams was quiet for a long time. The only sound was the clock ticking on his wall.
"Here's what's going to happen," he said finally. "You want to come back? You can start by volunteering with our summer youth program. Twenty hours a week, teaching basic skills to middle school kids."
"Yes sir."
"You'll also be helping maintain the gym - cleaning, organizing equipment, setting up for practices. Another ten hours a week."
"Yes sir."
"And you'll continue with your academic improvement. I want to see consistent grades by the end of the summer, or this conversation is over."
"I can do that, Coach."
"If - and I mean if - you can prove to me over the next four months that you've really changed, that you're committed to being a student-athlete and not just an athlete, then we can talk about you rejoining the team in November."
I felt a surge of hope but tried not to show it.
"But understand this, Dre - you'll be starting from the bottom. Last man on the bench, if you make the team at all. No special treatment because you used to be a starter."
"I understand, Coach."
"And the first time - the very first time - you show up late, miss a commitment, disrespect anyone in this program, or give me any reason to doubt your commitment, you're done. Permanently."
"Yes sir."
Coach Holloway stood up and extended his hand.
"Don't make me regret this, son."
I shook his hand, trying not to let my voice crack.
"I won't, Coach. I promise."
As I walked out of his office, I felt something I hadn't felt in months.
Hope.
I pulled out my phone and typed a message to the group chat.
Better Men
Dre: Just met with Coach Holloway. He's giving me a chance to earn my way back onto the team
Rico: YO! That's what I'm talking about!
Marcus: Proud of you bro. That took real courage
Me: Had to bow my head and everything. But it was worth it
Rico: Nothing wrong with humbling yourself for something you want. I been doing the same thing at the batting cages
Marcus: Same here. Coach says I might get a tryout with the school team if I keep improving
Me: We really doing this shit. All of us getting back to what we love
Rico: Better men, right?
Me: Better men
Marcus: Better men
I put my phone away and started walking home. For the first time in months, I had something to work toward.
Something to prove.
Jakari was out in California handling his business. Now it was time for me to handle mine.
The old Dre would have been too proud to bow his head and ask for a second chance.
But the old Dre was exactly who I was trying not to be anymore.
Time to become the man I knew I could be.
Time to become better.