Growing into it

Chapter: Growing into It

By the time school wrapped up in June of 1999, everything around me felt like it was moving in fast-forward.

I was starting to grow again—fast.

One morning I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and had to do a double take. My arms looked longer. My legs felt heavier. Shirts that used to fit now hugged my torso, and the pants my dad bought me just two months ago stopped short above my ankles.

A visit to the clinic confirmed it—5'1" even.

I had grown nearly four inches in what felt like a blink.

My dad just shook his head. "You're gonna pass your brothers soon."

I grinned. "Good. I'll dunk on them by middle school."

But the growth wasn't all upside.

It came with aches, fatigue, and an awkward phase where I didn't feel totally in control of my body. My balance was off at times. My handle didn't feel as tight. My shot started falling short again because my arms were adjusting to the new length.

It was like learning to move in a brand-new frame.

And in the middle of all that?

School.

Word had started spreading around campus that I was "really good at basketball." Some of the older kids whispered about me in the hallways, and a few even came to watch our weekend tournaments. A teacher showed me a copy of SoCal Youth Hoops Weekly with my name circled.

I liked the attention—a little—but mostly it just made things awkward.

Kids I'd never talked to suddenly wanted to hang out.

Others gave me side eyes, thinking I was stuck up because I kept to myself.

But I wasn't trying to be anything.

I was just locked in.

After school, while most kids were at home watching cartoons or riding bikes, I was at the park with my dad, adjusting my footwork and reworking my shooting mechanics to match my longer arms.

"Higher arc," he'd remind me. "You've got more wingspan now—use it."

I could feel myself leveling up, even if it came with growing pains.

On weekends, we'd drive to open gyms or run drills in our driveway. My brothers would join sometimes, and I could tell they were starting to take me more seriously. We'd go at each other one-on-one—tough, physical games that ended in sweat, arguments, and respect.

The best kind of sibling rivalry.

Then one day, Coach Darrell called during dinner.

"I just spoke with a local sports magazine," he said. "They're doing a small feature on up-and-coming AAU talent. You're gonna be in it, Jacob."

My dad looked over at me.

"You hear that?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"You sure you're ready for more attention?"

"I didn't ask for it," I said. "I just want to hoop."

And that was the truth.

Let the rankings talk. Let the articles print. Let the rumors swirl.

I was growing in every way—physically, mentally, emotionally.

From 4'9½" to 5'1, from a benchwarmer to a leader, from overlooked to low-key known.

But even as the spotlight found me, I stayed focused.

Because I hadn't earned anything yet.

Not in my mind.

And I was just getting started.