The combine testing area was set up like something you'd see on ESPN. Electronic timing gates for the forty, a digital display for the vertical jump, coaches with tablets recording everything. About fifteen different stations spread across the practice field.
"Damn, they really got the whole setup," Derek said, looking around.
"They're not playing," Tyler added. "This is legit combine shit."
We gathered near the main staging area where Coach Colbert was explaining how this would work.
"Alright, listen up! You'll rotate through five stations - forty-yard dash, shuttle run, vertical jump, broad jump, and three-cone drill. Your numbers will be recorded and sent to every college coach who requested film from this camp. This matters, so give it everything you got."
No pressure or anything.
"We'll start with groups of ten at each station. When you hear your name called, head to your first station. Let's go!"
They started calling out names. I got grouped with Darius, Miguel, Brandon, and a few other kids I hadn't met yet for the vertical jump station first.
"Thank God we're not starting with the forty," Miguel said as we walked over. "I need to warm up more before that."
"For real," Brandon agreed. "I'm not trying to pull something on the first drill."
At the vertical jump station, there was a Vertec - those sticks that measure how high you can reach. A coach with a tablet was running the station.
"Alright, fellas. Three attempts each. We'll take your best jump. Who's first?"
Nobody volunteered immediately.
"Fuck it, I'll go," Darius said, stepping up.
He chalked up his hands, took a couple practice bounces, then exploded up. His fingers hit the markers - decent jump.
"36 inches!" the coach called out. "Pretty good."
"I'll take it," Darius said, stepping back.
Brandon went next and got 35. Miguel hit 38. A couple other kids went - ranging from 30 to 37.
Then it was my turn.
Just jump. Don't overthink it.
I stepped up, chalked my hands, and took my stance. I did a quick counter-movement - dropping my hips and swinging my arms back - then exploded up as hard as I could. My hand slapped the markers high.
"42 inches!" the coach announced.
"Yo, what the fuck?" Darius said, his eyes wide. "Bro, you just jumped out the fucking gym!"
"Goddamn," Brandon added. "That's literally NFL combine numbers."
"That's probably top three in this whole camp," Miguel said, shaking his head in disbelief.
I mean, yeah, but let's not make it a big deal.
"That's clean as hell, bro," one of the kids I didn't know said. "You play basketball?"
"Used to back in Chicago," I said.
"That makes sense. You got bounce for real."
We finished up the vertical testing - I hit 42 again on my second attempt and 41 on my third. Consistent at least.
"Alright, next station - broad jump!" the coach yelled. "Let's move!"
As we walked over, we had about a five-minute wait while another group finished up.
"Yo, did y'all see that new 2K?" Darius asked the group. "The MyCareer mode is actually decent this year."
"Bro, 2K hasn't been good since like 2K16," Brandon said, making a disgusted face. "They just recycling the same shit every year and charging seventy dollars."
"Nah, this year is different though. The gameplay is actually smoother," Darius insisted.
"That's cap," Miguel laughed. "You just saying that because you already spent like two hundred dollars on VC."
"Okay, maybe I spent some money," Darius admitted, grinning. "But for real, the park is way better. The rep system makes more sense."
"You're a fiend, bro," Jay said, joining our group from the shuttle station. "Spending real money on virtual currency is crazy work."
"Don't hate the player, hate the game," Darius shot back.
"I'm more of a Madden guy," I said. "2K is cool but football games hit different."
"Madden is straight garbage though," Jay said passionately. "They haven't updated franchise mode in like five fucking years. All they care about is Ultimate Team because that's where they make their money."
"Facts!" Brandon agreed. "I tried to do a franchise with my boys and it's literally the same as Madden 17. Like they don't even try anymore."
"Still better than NCAA not existing anymore," Tyler said, walking up and catching the tail end. "I miss that game so much."
"Bro, NCAA Football was elite," Darius said, his face lighting up. "I used to run that shit with Oregon. Just spam the read option with De'Anthony Thomas. Unstoppable."
"Everyone spammed the read option with Oregon," Miguel laughed. "That's not special. That's like saying you were good at Street Fighter but only used Ryu."
"Okay, but did it work? Yes. So I don't see the problem," Darius said with a shrug.
"What about y'all?" Jay asked the group. "Who's winning the national championship this year? Like when the season starts in a few weeks."
"Alabama," Brandon said immediately, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "They reload every year. It's literally not fair. Saban's got like five five-stars at every position."
"Bro, I'm so tired of Alabama winning," Miguel groaned. "Like can someone else win for once? It's boring."
"Nah, I think Clemson's taking it," Darius said. "They got that defense and Trevor Lawrence just left but they still got DJ Uiagalelei. Dude's arm is crazy."
"DJ threw like two good games," Jay said skeptically. "Everyone's hyping him up but we don't really know if he's nice like that yet."
"What about Ohio State?" another kid chimed in. "They got CJ Stroud now and their receivers are ridiculous. Chris Olave and Garrett Wilson? Come on."
"Olave is so smooth," I said. "Watched his film for route running. Dude doesn't waste any movement."
"Facts, and Garrett Wilson is just explosive," Tyler added. "Two completely different styles but both elite."
"Y'all sleeping on Georgia," Brandon said defensively. "We got the number one defense in the country and our offense is finally good. Plus we're sick of losing to Bama."
"You say that every year and then you lose to Bama," Miguel said, laughing.
"Fuck you, bro," Brandon said, but he was smiling. "This year is different."
"What about USC?" I asked. "We're at their camp and nobody's mentioning them."
"Because USC hasn't been elite in a minute," Jay said bluntly. "They're good but not championship good. They're like... Alamo Bowl good."
"Damn, that's disrespectful," Darius laughed. "But true."
"They're building something though," Tyler added. "If they get the right recruits..." He looked around at all of us meaningfully.
"Oh. Right. We're the recruits," Miguel said slowly, like he just realized it.
Yeah. That's literally why we're here.
"Broad jump, let's go!" the coach yelled.
This station was simpler - just jump as far as you could from a standing position. Most guys were hitting between 9'6" and 10'2".
When my turn came, I got low, swung my arms back hard, and exploded forward. I landed and heard the measurement.
"10'6"!" the coach called out.
"Okay, okay!" Darius said, nodding appreciatively. "Bro's really athletic like that."
"That's actually crazy," Brandon added. "You got hops and explosiveness."
Better than I thought I'd do.
Next station was the three-cone drill. This one tested change of direction - you had to run a specific pattern around three cones as fast as possible.
While we waited for our turn, the conversation shifted.
"Yo, who's winning MVP this year in the NFL?" Brandon asked.
"Mahomes," multiple people said in unison.
"That's too easy though," Darius said, waving his hand dismissively. "Let's talk about who's gonna be MVP that's not named Mahomes. Because otherwise what's the point?"
"Josh Allen," Jay said. "Bro's been killing it and the Bills are legit. Plus he's fun as hell to watch."
"He does too much sometimes though," Miguel countered. "Like he'll make an insane throw and then the next play he's throwing a pick because he's trying to do too much."
"That's what makes him exciting!" Jay said. "You never know what you're gonna get."
"Lamar if he stays healthy," Miguel added. "But that's a big if. Dude gets hurt every year now."
"What about receivers?" I asked. "Who's the best receiver in the league right now?"
"Davante Adams, easy," Tyler said immediately. "Bro is elite. Route running is crazy and he catches everything."
"Nah, it's Tyreek Hill," Brandon countered. "Speed kills, bro. You can't guard him. He just runs past everybody."
"Tyreek is fast but he's not the most skilled," Darius argued. "Like yeah, he's fast as fuck, but can he run every route? That's the question."
"Does he need to?" Jay asked. "If you're that fast, just run go routes and slants all day."
"Y'all are forgetting about Stefon Diggs," Miguel said. "Dude had like 130 catches last year. That's wild."
"Diggs is nice but I wouldn't say he's the best," I said.
"What about DeAndre Hopkins?" another kid added. "Bro catches everything."
"Hopkins is getting old though," Darius said. "He's still good but his best years are probably behind him."
"Three-cone drill!" the coach called out. "Pay attention to the pattern!"
He demonstrated the drill - sprint to the first cone five yards away, touch it, sprint back to the start, sprint to the second cone, around it, weave through the third cone, and sprint back.
This is going to be harder than it looks.
The first few guys went and their times ranged from 7.1 to 7.8 seconds. Pretty standard.
When I went, I tried to stay low and explosive through the cuts, planting hard on each turn. My time came out to 7.08 seconds.
"That's quick!" the coach said. "Good job."
Not bad at all.
"Alright, rotate! Forty-yard dash next!"
This was the one everyone cared about. The forty-yard dash was the measuring stick - didn't matter what position you played, people wanted to know what you ran.
We got to the station and there was already a crowd. Travis Hunter's group was running right now.
"Yo, let's see what the number one player in the country runs," Darius said, everyone stopping to watch.
Travis lined up, set in his stance, and exploded off the line when the timer beeped. He looked smooth - long strides, perfect arm motion, zero wasted movement.
"4.38!" the coach announced.
"Jesus fucking Christ," someone whispered.
That's stupid fast.
Travis walked back to his group, barely winded. A couple of his boys dapped him up but he didn't look fazed at all. Just another Tuesday for him.
"That's insane," Miguel said, shaking his head. "Sub 4.4 is NFL level."
"And he plays both ways," Jay added. "Like how is that fair?"
"It's not," Brandon said simply.
Our group was up next. We each got three attempts and they'd take our best time.
Darius went first and ran a 4.51. Solid time.
Brandon hit 4.47. Jay ran a 4.44. Miguel got 4.58.
Here we go.
I stepped up to the line, got into my stance - three-point stance with my right hand down. I focused on the timing beep, trying to anticipate it without jumping early.
BEEP.
I exploded off the line, driving my arms hard and keeping my head down for the first ten yards. At the twenty-yard mark, I hit my top speed and just tried to maintain it through the finish.
I crossed the line and jogged back.
"4.57!" the coach called out.
Could be worse. Definitely not great but whatever.
"That's solid," Tyler said, dapping me up.
I ran two more attempts - 4.54 and 4.56. My best was the 4.54.
"At least you're consistent," Derek said.
"Yeah, consistently slow as hell," I joked.
"Bro, shut up," Darius said, laughing. "You don't need to be fast. You got a 42-inch vertical and almost 11-foot broad jump. You're an explosive athlete, just not a speed guy."
"He's right," Jay added. "Speed isn't everything for receivers. Route running and hands matter way more. Look at Davante Adams - he's not fast but he's the best receiver in the league."
"Facts. Or Cooper Kupp," Brandon said. "Dude runs like a 4.6 but he's always open because his route running is elite."
They're not wrong. But still, seeing other guys run 4.4s makes you feel some type of way.
Last station was the shuttle run - sometimes called the 5-10-5. You start at the middle cone, sprint five yards to your right and touch the line, sprint ten yards to your left and touch that line, then sprint five yards back to the middle.
This one was pure change of direction and lateral movement.
While we waited, the conversation kept going.
"Yo, who y'all got in the NBA Finals this year?" Miguel asked.
"Lakers," Brandon said confidently. "LeBron and AD are still nice. They're defending champs."
"Bro, the Lakers are washed," Jay said, laughing. "LeBron is like 36 years old. He's not carrying them anywhere."
"He's still LeBron though," I said. "You can't count him out. Dude's been to like nine Finals."
"I got the Nets," Darius said. "KD, Kyrie, and Harden? That's literally unfair when they're all playing."
"IF they're all playing," Tyler pointed out. "Kyrie's always hurt or sitting out for some random reason, and Harden disappeared in the playoffs last year."
"Facts. Plus they got no defense," Brandon added. "You can't win a championship if you can't guard anybody."
"What about the Bucks?" Miguel suggested. "Giannis is a fucking problem."
"Giannis can't shoot for shit though," Jay said. "In the playoffs, you need a jumper. They'll just build a wall and make him shoot."
"He literally won MVP," I pointed out.
"MVP doesn't mean you're winning a championship," Darius said. "Look at Russell Westbrook."
"Damn, that's disrespectful but true," Miguel laughed.
"What about the Suns?" another kid added. "They got CP3 now and Booker is nice."
"CP3 chokes in the playoffs every year," Brandon said bluntly. "It's a pattern at this point."
"He's never had a team this good though," I said. "This might be his year."
"We'll see. I'm not holding my breath."
"Shuttle run, let's go!" the coach yelled.
I watched a few guys go first. The times were all over the place - some guys struggled with the change of direction, others looked smooth.
When my turn came, I focused on staying low through the cuts and planting hard on each turn. My time came out to 4.12 seconds.
"That's really good!" the coach said. "Quick feet!"
Finally something I'm good at again.
By the time we finished all five stations, it was almost 12:30. Everyone was tired, sweaty, and hungry. The California sun was beating down and there was no shade on the practice field.
"Lunch break!" Coach Colbert announced. "Be back at 1:30 for 7-on-7 competition. Get some food and hydrate!"
We all started walking back toward the dining hall. The conversations continued, everyone discussing how they performed.
"Bro, I definitely could've run faster on the forty," Brandon said. "My start was trash. I false-started in my head."
"At least you broke 4.5," Miguel said. "I was almost at 4.6. That's rough as hell."
"It's all good, bro. Most receivers aren't running 4.4s anyway. That's like track star shit."
"Tell that to the coaches," Jay laughed. "They see 4.6 and start thinking you're slow."
Darius turned to me. "Yo, Jakari, that vertical and broad jump though. Forty-two inches and almost eleven feet? Bro, you're an elite athlete. Don't even worry about the forty time."
"Yeah, those are your advantages," Brandon agreed. "You can go up and get any ball. That matters way more than running in a straight line."
I guess. But it's hard not to compare yourself when everyone's numbers are right there.
We got to the dining hall and loaded up on food - chicken, rice, vegetables, pasta. Everyone knew we needed fuel for the afternoon session.
"7-on-7 is where it really matters," Tyler said as we sat down with our trays. "This is actual football, not just testing."
"Facts," Derek agreed. "This is where you show if you can actually play or if you're just an athlete with good numbers."
"I'm so ready for this," Alex said. "Been waiting for this part all day."
Same. Time to actually compete and show what I can do against real competition.
As we ate, I looked around the dining hall. Sixty receivers, all with different backgrounds, different stories, different skill sets. Some would get offers from this camp. Some wouldn't. But we were all here, competing, trying to prove we belonged at the next level.
Let's see what happens.