I rolled out of bed at 4:47 AM, just like I had every morning for the past month. Kobe's routine. The one I'd memorized from every interview, every documentary, every article I could find. 4:30 AM wake up, gym by 5:00 AM, two-hour workout, then basketball training.
Mamba Mentality. That's what separates the great from the good.
I grabbed my phone to turn off the alarm and saw the notifications were still going crazy from Jakari's game on Friday. My boy was everywhere - ESPN, Bleacher Report, even some college recruiting sites. Made me proud as hell, but also reminded me that I needed to step my game up.
I threw on my workout clothes and headed to the 24-hour gym down on Madison. Same routine every day - one hour of weights, one hour of cardio, then straight to the courts for basketball training.
If it was good enough for Kobe, it's good enough for me.
The gym was almost empty at 5 AM, just me and a few other early birds. I started with the weight routine I'd pieced together from various Kobe interviews - focus on core strength, functional movements, building that assassin mentality.
Forty-five minutes into my workout, I was struggling through my third set of deadlifts when I heard someone behind me.
"You here every damn morning doing the same stupid shit."
I turned around and saw a dude I didn't recognize - about 5'8", stocky build, wearing an old Illinois basketball hoodie. He had this tired look in his eyes and was holding a coffee cup that smelled like it had whiskey in it.
"Excuse me?" I said, not sure if I heard him right.
The guy shook his head and took a sip from his cup. "Nothing, young blood. Just... you been here every morning for weeks, doing that same routine. Kinda hard not to notice."
Who is this dude?
"I'm sorry, do I know you?" I asked, confused.
"Nah, you wouldn't," he said with a bitter laugh. "Terrell Blake. Used to play ball at Illinois back in the day."
Blake... that name sounds familiar.
"Illinois?" I said, trying to remember. "You played college ball?"
Terrell's face showed a mix of pride and pain. "Yeah. Long time ago. Set some records, had some good years." He paused. "Then blew out my knee senior year and that was that."
Damn. That's rough.
"But that ain't why I'm talking to you," Terrell continued, looking at my deadlift setup. "I'm talking to you because you're wasting your time with that routine."
"What you mean?" I asked, genuinely confused. "This is Kobe's workout."
Terrell let out a short laugh and shook his head. "Kid, you know why Kobe could do that routine every single day for twenty years?"
"Because he was dedicated?"
"Because his body was built different," Terrell said matter-of-factly. "Dude had genetics that let him process lactic acid and recover from muscle fatigue like a machine think of Michael Phelps. Most people try to copy that routine, they just break down."
I never thought about that.
Terrell sat down on a nearby bench and gestured for me to join him. "Look, I don't know you, but I seen you around the neighborhood. You work with kids at the center, right?"
"Yeah," I said, sitting down cautiously. "I coach youth basketball there."
"That's good. Real good." Terrell took another sip from his cup. "What position you play?"
"Point guard."
"Height?"
"Six-two."
Terrell nodded slowly. "So you're a 6'2" point guard trying to train like a 6'6" shooting guard. That make sense to you?"
When he puts it like that...
"I mean, the work ethic is what matters, right?" I said, though I was starting to doubt myself.
"Work ethic, yeah. But smart work ethic," Terrell said. "You know what separated me from other guards my size? I stopped trying to be someone else and started maximizing who I was."
I leaned forward, finally interested in what he was saying. "What you mean by that?"
Terrell leaned back against the wall. "I was 5'8" in a game full of giants. I couldn't out-jump or out-muscle anybody. So I had to out-think them. Every single possession."
He paused and looked at me seriously. "From what I've seen watching you with those kids, you got court vision and talent handling the ball. You see things before they happen. That's a gift you can't teach."
He's been watching me coach?
"You watch me coach?" I asked, feeling a little uncomfortable.
"I live three blocks away, kid. Sometimes I walk by the center on my way to... places." He gestured with his coffee cup. "Point is, you got something real there. Leadership, understanding the game. Why you trying to train like Kobe when you should be training like a floor general?"
"Because Kobe was great," I said, though it sounded weak even to me.
"So was Chris Paul. So was Steve Nash. They train the same way as Kobe?"
Probably not.
I sat there thinking about what he was saying. This whole conversation was making me question everything I'd been doing for three years.
"So what should I be doing different?"
Terrell stood up and started walking toward the exit. "That's not for me to say, young blood. That's for you to figure out."
That's not the answer I was expecting.
"What you mean?" I called after him.
He stopped and turned back. "I mean I ain't your coach. I ain't your trainer. I'm just some washed-up player who drinks his breakfast and lives off disability checks." His voice got quieter. "But I will say this - if you serious about getting better, you need to study players who had your skill set, not just players who were successful."
That makes sense, but...
"Like who?"
"Like I said, that's for you to figure out," Terrell repeated, already walking away again. "But maybe start with point guards who were great because of their basketball IQ, not just their athleticism."
As he reached the door, he called back without turning around.
"And kid? Your friend blowing up in California - that's motivation, not pressure. Y'all on different paths. Don't let his success make you panic into following the wrong blueprint."
How does he know about Jakari?
But by the time I thought to ask, Terrell was gone, leaving me sitting there with more questions than answers.
Great. Now what?
I finished my workout, but my heart wasn't really in it. Everything Terrell said kept replaying in my head. The part about Kobe's genetics. The part about training for my position instead of copying someone else. The part about my friend's success being motivation, not pressure.
Maybe he's right. Maybe I have been doing this all wrong.
After the gym, I headed to the community center for my coaching session with the kids. Usually, I'd be exhausted from forcing myself through that intense morning routine. But today, I felt... different. Not better, just different.
"Coach Dre!" the kids yelled when I walked in. "Did you see your friend on TV?"
"Yeah, I saw Jakari's highlights," I said, but my mind was still on my conversation with Terrell. "Pretty crazy, right?"
"He's famous!" one of the eight-year-olds said. "Are you gonna be famous too?"
Different kind of question today.
"Maybe," I said, distracted. "But first, let's work on making y'all better."
As practice started, I found myself watching the kids differently. Instead of just running drills, I was paying attention to how they saw the game. Which ones had natural court vision. Which ones were leaders. Which ones were followers.
This is what Terrell was talking about. Understanding your natural gifts.
During a water break, I pulled out my phone and started researching point guard training routines. Not Kobe's routine. Not generic workouts. Specific programs designed for floor generals.
Steve Nash trained different than Kobe. Chris Paul trained different than both of them. Maybe I need to find what works for me.
After practice, I stayed behind to work on my own game. But instead of going through Kobe's routine mechanically, I focused on point guard skills. Decision-making drills. Court vision exercises. Studying how to read defenses.
This feels... like shit. But this will get me on the court..
As I was shooting around by myself, my phone buzzed with the Better Men group chat.
Jakari: Yo, practice was crazy today. Coach said college scouts are already asking about film
Marcus: That's insane bro. USC texted him yesterday
Rico: We all really doing this
Me: Different paths, same goals
Jakari: Facts. How's your coaching going?
Me: Good. Actually thinking about changing up my training routine
Marcus: Why?
Me: Long story. Just realizing I might have been training for the wrong things
Rico: That's real. I've been thinking the same about baseball
Jakari: Whatever you do, make sure it's YOUR path, not somebody else's
Me: Exactly
As I walked home, I thought about everything that had happened. A random conversation with a stranger had made me question three years of work. But maybe that wasn't a bad thing.
Maybe it's time to stop following someone else's blueprint and start building my own.
I didn't know if I'd ever see Terrell Blake again, or if he'd even remember our conversation. But he'd given me something to think about.