Undrafted: Underrated x Underestimated
Undrafted: Underrated x Underestimated
WHY NOT?
Sunday morning came about, Recks found himself at Fort Washington Beach Campground, just north of Fresno. Along with him with was Recks' son Kairos, his father, as well as Clinton. Making it a boys' weekend. For the longest, Recks wanted to take Kairos camping, just as his father used to do when he was a boy. With minimum service in the area, they were all able to just each other and nature. Fishing, grilling, camp fire and stories, good times to be had. But today, something was stirring inside Recks. He felt uneasy with life as it is, being unfulfilled...
As Recks was the last to wake up, he made his presence among the group just as breakfast was being made. "About time you get up son, in that tent sleeping like a log." "Good morning guys. What's for breakfast?" "Grandpa is making some salmon skewers. He said it's his specialty" "Oh man, I haven't had that in years. Sure you still know how to make that old man?" "I may be old, but I be cooking like that golden boy whatchamacallem', Steff Flurry?" Recks and his son bust out laughing "Steph Curry. Dad, you know what you're talking about?" "I know what I'm talking about! Boy, I was watching them boys run around playing ball since you was just skin and bones boy" "Hey, come on Pops, be nice. I bulked up nicely." "Yeah, that's all fine, but how's that knee though? Getting any better?" "Ahh, it's going. Pain is gone, but, still a bit shaky." “Yeah, well, new repairs are always funny like that. You just got to take care of yourself son.” “Will do pops.”
“Yoooo Recks!” Clinton makes his way back to the group after disappearing for a while. “C.B., good morning bro.” “Man! Do you know how bad you snore? You can scare every dear in a 5 mile radius the way you sleep.” “Chill with the flames bro, I can’t help it. Where you been at though?” “Oh, I was around the way. You know, early worm gets the bird.” Recks gave Clinton the pity look. “Uh huh, you mean early bird gets the worm.” “Well, whatever. Saw some baddies around here and just wanted to introduce myself.” “Dude, it’s 9 AM in the morning.” “And first come first serve.” Recks just shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t with you money.” “Hey, I’m trying to be like you where all the honeys drip on my honeycomb” “Dad, what does honeys drip on my honeycomb mean?” “Uh.. You’ll learn about that when you’re older kid. Eat your food before it gets cold.” Recks quickly dismissed. “Oh, don’t worry, I got more where that came from.” Recks father would pass out plates to everyone, all enjoying meal and conversation before breaking down their station to depart.
“Hey Dad.” “Yeah?” “You think Khyri is going to come back home and visit us?” “Maybe. You miss her that much already?” “Yeah.” “We’ll call her later if she’s not busy and let you talk to her.” “Okay... Dad?” “What’s up?” “You think you’ll play basketball again?”
Eyes from everyone peered onto Recks for an answer. Deep inside, Recks felt that question tugging at his strings. He yearned it, was called to it. He wanted to do more, be more. Despite how he felt in the hospital that day, he hasn’t given up total hope on basketball. In secrecy, Recks been keeping touch and log with his agent whom he met in College, Danielle Cantor, executive VP & partner of F.A.M.E. with David Falk, the very same guy who manage Michael Jordan through the entirety of his career.
“I want to play kid, but I don’t know if I got what it takes anymore. “You don’t know that.” Clinton implied. “He’s right son, you don’t know. And you never will if you keep holding onto that fear.” “I know Pops, but-” “Remember what your mother told you in the hospital, your little league days. Bone heal son, bones heal.” “Listen to your old man Recks. You said doctors gave you 6-8 months. It’s been 6-8 months. You went from a wheelchair, to crutches, to walking on your own again. You’re being too hard on yourself with these doubts.” “Wait, hold up, are y’all really just going to sit here and pressure me into playing basketball again? Cause right now, I feel attacked.” “No, we’re not pressuring you, but the Recks I know is a go-getter. A two-time All-American, PAC-12 Player of the Year. You got the accolades to prove that you’re that guy that belongs in the NBA.” Clinton threw facts on top of facts, stacking the odds against Recks. “But my son needs his father in his life.” “I have you Dad, but don’t want to be happy?” “Hey man, I’m already happy just being able to be your Dad.” “... You really going to sit there and lie to my grandboy like that son?” “What you mean Pops?” “I see you at work. You show up early, you learn more every day, but you’re not applying the principles right. In turn, that frustrates you and makes the rest of your work sloppy. I love you son, but you’re not my best employee and I’m about ready to fire you.” “Damn Pops, it’s like that?” “What I’m saying is, this isn’t you. That job isn’t for you. You need to follow your true dreams. Go out there and be a star, be someone special to the world. Give my grandson a standard to meet as a man in this world.”
Recks listened to all the pitches made to him to act on what he knows is best. What both Clinton and Recks’ father mention couldn’t be any closer to the truth. Recks wasn’t happy, his life wasn’t fulfilling. But he was just too unsure to throw caution into the wind. Recks response to everything was simply, “I’ll think about it...”
