The black SUV hummed down Highway 101 as we made our way toward USC for what would be the biggest five days of our high school careers so far. Coach Rivera was driving, with Coach Martinez riding shotgun, while the five of us were packed in the back with our gear bags.
This is it. Five days to prove we belong.
I stared out the window watching the California landscape change from the coastal mountains of Malibu to the urban sprawl approaching Los Angeles. In the back of my mind, I kept replaying my conversation with Coach Martin from two weeks ago.
"Y'all nervous?" Cameron asked from the middle row, breaking the silence that had settled over us for the past twenty minutes.
"Hell yeah," Tyler said honestly. "But the good kind of nervous."
"Same," Derek added, adjusting his headphones around his neck. "Five days going against the best receivers and DBs on the West Coast. Plus kids from Texas, Florida, everywhere."
Alex nodded from beside me. "My old teammates in Texas been texting me about this camp. They said it's intense as hell."
Five days. Monday through Friday. No room for mistakes.
Coach Martinez turned around from the front seat. "Remember what we talked about in film sessions. This isn't just about individual performance. You're representing Malibu Prep as a unit."
"Facts," Cameron said. "I been looking at the roster online. There's some serious talent coming."
Tyler pulled out his phone. "Yo, check this out. Luther Burden III from East St. Louis is gonna be there. Kid's ranked number two receiver in the whole country."
"Burden's different," Alex said. "Dude won MVP at some big camp in Missouri earlier this summer. He's committed to Mizzou but still taking visits."
Number two in the country. That's the level we're competing against.
"What about that Texas kid?" Derek asked. "Evan Stewart from Liberty High?"
"He's the one who runs track too," I said. "10.5 in the hundred meters. Kid's fast as hell."
Cameron was scrolling through his phone. "Says here he's committed to Texas A&M. Six-one, 175, five-star everything."
Five-star. That's what we're going up against.
Coach Rivera glanced at us through the rearview mirror. "Y'all doing research is good, but don't get caught up in rankings and stars. Football is played between the lines, not on recruiting websites."
"True, but it's good to know what we're walking into," Tyler said. "I saw Kevin Coleman Jr. is gonna be there too. Kid from St. Louis, committed to Bama."
"Alabama don't recruit just anybody," Derek said. "That tells you something right there."
All these committed kids. Makes me wonder where I'll end up.
Alex leaned forward. "Y'all see anything about West Coast kids?"
"Yeah," Cameron said, still scrolling. "CJ Williams from Mater Dei is gonna be there. He's a USC commit, so he's probably got some inside knowledge about how they run things."
"Mater Dei," Tyler whistled. "Those Trinity League schools don't play."
"What about that big kid from Servite?" Derek asked. "McMillan or something?"
"Tetairoa McMillan," I said. "Six-four, Oregon commit. Kid's a problem."
All these committed kids with offers from the biggest schools. Where do we fit in?
Coach Martinez turned around again. "Listen up. Half these kids y'all are talking about have been getting recruited since they were freshmen. Some of them have been to camps like this multiple times. But that don't mean they're better than you."
"Coach is right," Cameron said. "We've been working together all year. Chemistry matters."
"Plus," Tyler added, "ain't none of them been through Coach Rivera's system. We know how to run routes, how to adjust, how to compete."
That's our advantage. We're a unit.
Derek took out his earbuds. "Y'all want to hear some music? Got a whole playlist ready for this week."
"What kind of music?" Alex asked.
"Mix of everything. Some Kendrick, some Future, some old school stuff. Whatever gets us hyped."
"Play some of that motivational shit," Tyler said. "We need to get our minds right."
Derek connected his phone to the car's Bluetooth, and Future's "Mask Off" started playing through the speakers.
"Percocets, molly, percocets," Cameron rapped along, getting us all laughing.
"Y'all stupid," I said, but I was grinning too. This was exactly what we needed - some normal energy to break the tension.
These are my boys. We're gonna do this together.
As we got closer to downtown LA, the traffic started picking up. I could see the USC campus in the distance, and my heart rate started climbing.
"Damn, look at all that," Alex said, pointing out the window at the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum rising up ahead of us.
"That's where legends are made," Derek said. "OJ Simpson, Marcus Allen, Matt Leinart."
"Reggie Bush," Tyler added. "Kid was different."
"Bush got his Heisman taken away though," Cameron pointed out.
"Still was cold as hell when he played," Derek said. "Some of them YouTube highlights are insane."
The Coliseum. Where we might be playing Friday if we make it to the championship round.
Coach Rivera caught my eye in the rearview mirror. "You been quiet back there, Jakari. What you thinking about?"
"Just processing everything," I said. "This is big."
"It is big," Coach Rivera agreed. "But remember why you're here. You earned this spot through your work, your character, your performance. Don't let the moment get bigger than the preparation."
He's right. All those early morning workouts, all those route-running sessions after practice, all those conversations about dreams and goals - it all led to this week.
"Coach Martin texted me this morning," Coach Rivera continued. "Said they've got 60 receivers coming from all over the country. Kids from every major football state."
"60?" Alex asked. "Damn."
"How many scholarships they got available?" Cameron asked.
"For the 2023 class? Probably 20 to 25 total for all positions," Coach Martinez answered. "But remember, other schools are gonna be watching too. This isn't just about USC."
60 receivers. Five days. Only the best survive.
Derek turned down the music. "Y'all see that article about how many five-stars are gonna be there?"
"How many?" Tyler asked.
"Like six or seven. Plus a bunch of high four-stars. Kids committed to Alabama, Georgia, Texas A&M, all the big programs."
Elite competition. This is what we wanted.
I pulled out my phone and checked the group chat with the boys back home.
Better Men Group Chat:Dre: Y'all made it to USC yet?
Me: On the way now. Five days of camp starting tomorrow
Marcus: 120 receivers from all over the country. That's insane
Rico: Chicago boy about to show out. Make us proud
Dre: About to start summer league scrimmages here.
We all grindingMe: Different stages, same hustle. Let's get it
Tyler leaned over to look at my phone. "Your boys back home still grinding?"
"Always. Dre made varsity like I knew he would. Kid's been working."
"That's what real ones do," Alex said. "Everybody eating in their own lane."
"Facts. Different paths, same destination," Cameron added.
My boys believe in me. Can't let them down.
We pulled into the USC campus and I felt the energy immediately. Players and families everywhere, gear bags being unloaded from cars, coaches with clipboards directing traffic. This was big time.
"Look at all these dudes," Tyler said, surveying the scene as we got out of the SUV.
"They probably thinking the same thing about us," I replied, grabbing my bag from the back.
Derek was looking around wide-eyed. "Bro, this is different from any camp I've been to."
"Look at that kid over there," Alex said, nodding toward a group of players. "Dude's huge."
I followed his gaze and saw a kid who had to be 6'4", 190 pounds, with perfect posture and confidence that screamed five-star recruit.
"That might be McMillan," Cameron said. "Oregon commit."
"Probably," I said. "Dude looks like he belongs here."
We all belong here. Can't be intimidated.
A USC staff member with a clipboard approached us. "Malibu Prep?"
"That's us," Coach Rivera confirmed.
"Great! You're in Dormitory C, rooms 315 through 319. Check-in is right over there, then team dinner at 6 PM in the McKay Center."
This is real.
As we walked toward the check-in table, I noticed other groups of players doing the same thing. Some looked confident, others nervous. Some were by themselves, others came with teammates like us.
"That's our advantage," Tyler said quietly, apparently thinking the same thing I was. "We're a unit."
At the check-in table, I could see the staff had everything organized. Name tags, room assignments, schedules, camp gear - this was a well-oiled machine.
"Next!" called the student checking people in.
I stepped up to the table. "Jakari Williams, Malibu Prep."
She found my name on the list and handed me a packet. "Welcome to USC, Jakari. Your room assignment is 317. Any questions?"
"Nah, I'm good. Thank you."
Room 317. Five days of my life that could change everything.
Alex got the room next to mine, while Cameron, Tyler, and Derek were down the hall. We agreed to meet up in thirty minutes after getting settled.
Walking into the dorm room, I was hit with a mix of excitement and nerves. The room was basic - two beds, two desks, a window overlooking the practice fields where we'd be competing for the next five days.
My roommate was already there, a tall kid unpacking his gear.
"What's good?" I said. "I'm Jakari."
"What's up, I'm Chris," he said, turning around. "Chris Marshall, Fort Bend Marshall in Texas."
Texas. Probably good.
"Nice to meet you, bro. You play receiver too?"
"Yeah, just committed to A&M a few weeks ago," he said with a slight Texas drawl. "Still want to see what other schools are about though."
Already committed to Texas A&M. Must be good.
"That's cool. I'm from Malibu Prep. Still looking at options."
"West Coast football," Chris said, nodding. "Y'all got some good programs out here. USC, Stanford, Oregon."
We made small talk while unpacking, but I could tell we were both sizing each other up. He seemed cool enough, but come tomorrow morning, we'd be competing against each other.
Five days of competition. No friends on the field.
I texted my mom to let her know we'd arrived safely, then headed down the hall to meet up with my boys.
"Y'all ready for this?" Cameron asked as we gathered in the hallway.
"Been ready," Derek said. "Question is whether they ready for Malibu Prep."
Tyler was looking at his phone. "Yo, check this out. They got the full schedule posted. Monday starts with position meetings at 8 AM, then individual drills, then 7-on-7."
"What about the rest of the week?" Alex asked.
"Tuesday through Thursday is full practice sessions with live scrimmaging. Friday is the championship tournament if you make it that far."
Five days to prove ourselves. Five days to show what we're made of.
"Let's walk around campus before dinner," Alex suggested. "Get familiar with where everything is."
Good idea. Knowledge is power.
As we walked through the USC campus, I couldn't help but notice the other players doing the same thing. Groups of two or three, some by themselves, all of us trying to get comfortable in what felt like a different world.
"Yo, that's definitely Burden over there," Derek said, nodding toward a group of players near the library.
I looked and saw a kid who moved with the confidence of someone who'd never been told he wasn't good enough. Medium height, stocky build, but every step looked purposeful.
"Dude's got presence," Tyler said. "You can tell he's different."
Number two receiver in the country. That's what elite looks like.
"There's Stewart," Cameron said, pointing toward the practice fields where a tall, lean kid was stretching. "Look how smooth he moves."
Even from a distance, you could see the fluidity in Evan Stewart's movements. Everything looked effortless, like he was gliding instead of walking.
"That's track speed right there," Alex said. "10.5 in the hundred meters."
These are the dudes we're competing against. Five-stars, committed to major programs, best of the best.
"Y'all see that group over there?" Derek asked, nodding toward three kids in Alabama gear. "That's probably Coleman and some other Bama commits."
The Alabama commits moved with a certain swagger, like they were already part of something special. One of them - probably Coleman - was talking animatedly with his hands while the others listened.
Confidence. They all got it.
"We need to remember something," I said as we continued walking. "All these dudes got rankings and offers and commitments. But we're here for a reason too."
"Facts," Cameron said. "Coach Rivera don't send nobody to camps like this unless they can compete."
"Plus," Tyler added, "we got something they don't. We been playing together all year. We know each other's tendencies, how to adjust routes, how to find openings."
Chemistry. That's our edge.
Alex nodded. "And we hungry. Some of these dudes probably been getting recruited since middle school. We still got something to prove."
Hungry. I like that.
As we made our way back toward the dining hall for team dinner, I felt that familiar feeling I'd had before every big moment in my life. Part nervous, part excited, part ready to prove myself.
But this time was different. This time I wasn't going in alone. I had four teammates who'd been grinding with me all year, coaches who believed in us, and a system that had prepared us for exactly this moment.
Five days. 60 receivers. Everything on the line.
The sun was starting to set over Los Angeles, casting long shadows across the practice fields where we'd be competing. In less than 12 hours, we'd find out if all our preparation was enough.
"Y'all ready to eat?" Derek asked as we approached the McKay Center.
"Starving," Cameron said. "Been too nervous to eat much today."
"Same," Tyler agreed. "But after dinner, we need to get our minds right for tomorrow."
Tomorrow. Day one of five. Time to show them what Malibu Prep is made of.
As we walked into the dining hall, I could see players from all over the country - Texas kids in burnt orange, California kids in various gear, Florida kids repping the Gators, Georgia players in red and black. This was the highest level of high school football talent in one place.
Different regions, different schools, different backgrounds. But we all got one thing in common - we're here because we can play.
This was the biggest stage any of us had been on. Five days to prove we belonged with the best high school players in the country. Five days to show college coaches what we could do. Five days to make our families, our school, and ourselves proud.
Different level. Same us. Let's get it.