My Story pt 1

In second grade, I told my class that my mom had a Ferrari, lived in a mansion, and had the most impeccable smile. None of that was true,  but even as a kid, I was drawn to the finer things. I don’t think I’d ever even seen a Ferrari in real life yet, but my imagination was already running wild.

Growing up in a lower-income neighborhood, that mindset set me apart. My thoughts were too big, too out there, to really fit in. I didn’t notice much of the difference at first.

I went to elementary school in one of Charlotte’s wealthiest areas through a magnet program. I was one of the “smart” kids. Most of my neighborhood friends didn’t go there. At school, my friends’ families threw birthday parties in huge houses, some even tied to the Carolina Panthers. I didn’t know any different, I just thought that was normal. Life was good.

Soccer became my world around age eight, mostly because of the kids I went to school with. My neighborhood leaned into basketball and football, but on the soccer field, I found my passion. And I wasn’t just good, I dominated. By middle school, I had parents and coaches inviting me to camps and club teams, but we couldn’t afford them. Still, I kept playing because I loved it.

Then came high school, and everything flipped.

Charlotte-Mecklenburg changed zoning rules. Kids like me, from the hood but placed in “good” schools, had to go back to their neighborhood schools. Suddenly, I barely knew anyone. And worse, my new school’s soccer program was trash. For me, that was the end of the world.

I resisted. I didn’t want to be there. I skipped homework, coasted through classes, and refused soccer practice until my mom literally showed up after school one day to drag me out there. I still laugh at that moment.

Once my mom forced me to step out on the field during a practice, though, it clicked. I skipped try outs and tore through JV with my mom watching like a hawk. Coach made me play with the varsity team soon after,  with me pushing so hard in practice that I nearly came to blows with the varsity captain, and earned a shot at a real game. But then reality hit. We lost 7-0. Varsity lost too. On the bus ride home, while Nas’ Illmatic blasted in my headphones, I heard my teammates laughing like we’d won. I was furious. I couldn’t stomach losing and pretending it was okay.

That’s when I felt the instability. The shift. One day I was on a winning team, in the right schools, surrounded by opportunities. The next, I was stuck in a system that felt like it was built to limit me. This didn’t settle with me. 

But that’s where it started. The hunger. The stubbornness. The refusal to accept what was handed to me. I had the Allen Iverson syndrome, confident, headstrong, and a little naive. Passion fueled me. While I didn’t always channel it perfectly, it always gave me the drive I needed to be successful and inspire people around me.

And it still does. Nipsey said it best: stay ten toes down. Those early years wired me to win, to create, and to inspire. Soccer taught me grit. Business gave me a new field. But the playbook’s the same. A relentless drive to win.