When the World Chant 'Win', I Think About Losing: The Quiet Rise of an Unlikely NBA Star

The Court Where No One Saw Me

I was five when my father started dragging me to the AAU court at dawn. ‘Success is in the details,’ he’d say—each free throw repeated a hundred times until my wrists bled. My mother would sit beside me afterward, silent, her eyes wet. My grandfather—Jack-Carter—would whisper from his arm: ‘You’re the one who’ll outlast them.’ But I never believed it.

The Ant-Man Who Shot Through Silence

At ten, I watched an NBA summer camp with my best friend William’s uncle’s stolen ticket. I didn’t want to be like Harden or Holiday—I wanted to disappear into the corner and shoot while everyone else slept. They called me ‘Ant-Man’ because I was too small, too slow, too quiet. But when Curry still ruled this league, I learned: points don’t come from athleticism—they come from persistence.

The Fall Before the Rise

High school changed everything—6’1”, sudden lift, midcourt magic. Yet even then? Coaches passed me over. I sat on the bench while others became stars. My name didn’t echo in recruiting brochures; my stats didn’t trend on ESPN.

The Trade That Taught Me to Breathe

Portland took me at #24—not for potential, but because they needed someone who knew how to lose quietly before winning. When Lillard got hurt and CJ McCollum left? They gave me minutes—not money—and I turned grief into gravity.

On January 3rd against Atlanta? Forty-three points. The next day? Grandpa Jack passed away. I didn’t cry on camera that night. I just kept shooting. And for the first time—I felt him beside me.