The alarm went off at 6:00 AM and I was already awake, staring at the ceiling. Chris was still knocked out, snoring like a freight train.
I got up quietly and grabbed my shower stuff. The hallway was already buzzing with movement - doors opening, water running, the sound of someone's speaker playing Future way too loud for six in the morning.
In the bathroom, I ran into a kid from Ohio brushing his teeth. We nodded at each other but didn't say anything. His eyes were still half-closed - probably didn't sleep much either.
By 6:30, I was dressed and ready - compression shirt, shorts, my gear bag packed with everything I'd need for the day. I met Tyler, Derek, and Alex in the hallway. Cameron had to go to the QB meetings, so it was just us receivers now.
"Y'all ready?" Tyler asked.
"Ready as we're gonna be," Derek said, adjusting his bag.
We headed to the dining hall for a quick breakfast. The room was packed but quieter than last night. Everyone was in their own head now.
I grabbed some eggs, toast, and fruit. My stomach was doing flips but I forced myself to eat. Long day ahead.
"Position meetings at seven," Derek said, checking his phone. "Heritage Hall, Room 204."
"We should head over early," Alex suggested. "Get a feel for the room."
Good idea. Don't want to walk in last and look lost.
We finished eating and made our way across campus. Other receivers were doing the same thing, all of us moving toward Heritage Hall in small groups.
The building was impressive - all modern glass and steel. Inside, the walls were covered with photos of USC legends. Marcus Allen, Reggie Bush, JuJu Smith-Schuster.
Man, these dudes really made it from here. That's crazy to see in person.
Room 204 was on the second floor. We walked in and found about twenty receivers already there, sitting in rows of desks like a classroom. A projector screen was set up at the front.
We grabbed seats in the middle - not too eager in the front, not hiding in the back either. More receivers filtered in over the next few minutes.
Travis Hunter walked in with a couple of his boys and sat near the back. He dapped up a few people on his way to his seat, completely comfortable.
Bro really just moves different. Not cocky, just... confident I guess.
At exactly 7:00 AM, a man walked in carrying a laptop and a coffee. He was probably in his early thirties, fit, with close-cropped hair and the kind of presence that made everyone shut up immediately.
"Good morning. I'm Coach Keary Colbert, receivers coach here at USC." He set his coffee down and looked around the room. "Some of you might recognize me - played here from '01 to '03, got drafted by the Panthers. Now I'm back teaching the position."
Oh shit, he actually played in the league.
"Sixty receivers. Five days. Some of you will show us you're ready for this level. Some of you will surprise us. And some of you..." he paused, looking around the room, "will realize you need more time."
He clicked to a slide showing different route concepts.
"Let me be clear about what separates high school receivers from college receivers, and college receivers from NFL receivers. It's not just talent. It's understanding your job within the concept of the play."
"In high school, most of you just run and try to get open. That's fine. But at this level, you need to understand how your route affects the defense. How you're clearing space for someone else. How your release is forcing a defender to commit."
He pulled up film of an NFL game - looked like a Steelers game.
"Watch number 19 here. JuJu Smith-Schuster. This play, his route is a deep post. But watch what he does at the line."
The film played. JuJu released like he was running an out route for the first few steps, got the corner to bite outside, then broke inside for the post.
"See that? He's not just running his route. He's manipulating the coverage with his release and stem. That's what we need to see from you."
Coach Rivera teaches us that to the point our ears bleed. Selling routes, making defenders commit.
"Another thing - releases against press coverage. In the NFL, cornerbacks are bigger, faster, and more physical than anything you've faced. You need multiple releases in your bag."
He pulled up more film, this time showing different receivers beating press coverage with various techniques.
"Speed releases, power releases, finesse releases - you need all of them. If a defender figures out you only have one move, you're done."
A kid in the front raised his hand. "Coach, how do you know which release to use?"
"Film study and feel. You watch tape, see how the corner plays. Does he sit back? Speed release. Does he get up in your face? Power release with a swim move. But you also gotta feel it in the moment - no two reps are the same."
Makes sense. Can't just memorize one thing and expect it to work every time.
Coach Colbert went through more concepts - route running at various depths, how to work back to the quarterback when coverage breaks down, catching in traffic.
"Last thing before we get on the field. This camp is competitive, but it's also about showing us who you are as a person. How you handle coaching, how you respond to mistakes, how you treat other players - all of that goes into our evaluation."
Character matters. Coach Rivera always says that.
"Alright, head to the practice field. Strength staff will take you through warm-ups. Let's get to work."
Everyone filed out, the nervous energy from earlier replaced by focus. We were about to actually do this.
On the practice field, about forty strength and conditioning coaches were waiting. They split us into groups of ten for warm-ups.
"High knees, let's go!" one of them yelled.
We went through the full routine - high knees, butt kicks, leg swings, dynamic stretching. My body felt loose, ready.
After warm-ups, we had about ten minutes before drills started. I found myself near the water station with Tyler, Derek, and Alex. A few other kids were gathered there too.
"Bro, Coach Colbert played for the Panthers?" one kid said to his friend. "That's actually fire. At least he knows what he's talking about."
"For real. Better than some old dude who never played," his friend replied.
A kid in burnt orange Texas gear walked up. "Y'all from Cali?"
"Yeah, Malibu Prep," Tyler said.
"Oh shit, y'all the school that dropped like 60 on Serra?" He filled up his water bottle. "Saw that shit all over Twitter. That was y'all?"
"Yeah, that was us," I said.
"That's tough. Serra usually doesn't get cooked like that." He extended his hand. "I'm Darius, from Austin. This is my boy Jay."
We all dapped up. Darius had long dreads tied back and looked about 6'3". Jay was shorter but built solid.
"Y'all committed anywhere yet?" Jay asked.
"I got interest from Stanford and UCLA," Tyler said. "Nothing official."
"What about you?" Darius looked at me.
"Still talking to schools. USC, Oregon, couple others."
"That's what's up. I'm committed to Texas but I'm looking around still," Darius said. "Trying to see what's out there before I shut it down completely."
"Smart," Derek said. "Don't limit yourself too early."
"Facts. What position?" Jay asked me.
"Receiver. X mostly."
"Word. I'm more of a slot guy. Quick routes, get the ball and go."
A couple more kids joined us - a stocky kid from Georgia wearing a Bulldogs hoodie and someone from Arizona in all black.
"Bruh, did y'all see that schedule?" the Georgia kid said. "They really trying to kill us. Combine testing on day one?"
"They're weeding people out early," the Arizona kid said. "See who can actually hang."
"What school you repping?" Darius asked the Georgia kid.
"I'm from Buford High. Name's Brandon." He had a thick Southern accent. "Committed to UGA but my pops wants me to look at Alabama too."
"Your pops wants you at Bama?" Jay laughed. "That's tough. Family pressure is real."
"Tell me about it. My whole family went to Georgia but he swears Bama develops receivers better."
"I mean, they do produce a lot of NFL guys," Tyler pointed out.
"Yeah but so does Georgia now. They got that new receivers coach who's supposed to be elite."
The Arizona kid spoke up. "I'm Miguel. Playing at Saguaro. Still unsigned, trying to get offers this week."
"You will," I said. "They invited you for a reason."
"Appreciate that, bro."
"Where you from originally?" Brandon asked me. "You don't sound fully Cali."
"Chicago. South Side. Moved out here for school."
"Oh word?" Darius perked up. "Chicago kids are different. Y'all play in the cold and shit."
"Sometimes. But mostly just different style of football."
"What you mean?" Miguel asked.
"I don't know, just more physical I guess. Less finesse, more just... competition. Like everybody's trying to prove something."
"That bias as hell," Jay said. "But Texas football is kinda like that too. Everybody thinks they're the best until they line up against somebody for real."
"Receivers!" Coach Colbert's voice cut through all the conversations. "First drill - release techniques against press. Two lines. Show me what you got."
The casual atmosphere shifted instantly. Everyone started moving toward the two lines forming at midfield.
"Good luck, bro," Darius said as we split up.
"You too."
The lines formed quickly. I ended up behind Tyler, with Derek and Alex somewhere behind me. In front of Tyler was Travis Hunter.
Oh shit. This is about to be interesting.
One by one, receivers released against air, showing their moves. Travis went and used a quick inside jab that would've worked against anybody. His footwork was stupid clean - like he'd been doing this his whole life.
"That's what I'm talking about!" Coach Colbert yelled. "Violent hands, quick feet! Next!"
Tyler's turn. He used a power release, getting his hands up to swat away an imaginary jam, then exploded past the outside shoulder. Coach Colbert nodded but didn't say anything.
Damn. High standards.
My turn. I stepped up to the line, visualizing a corner pressed up on me. I gave a quick jab step inside, sold it with my eyes and shoulders, then used my outside hand to swat away where the corner's hands would be. As I ripped past the outside, I made sure my first two steps were explosive - getting vertical as fast as possible to stack the corner.
"Good sell on the jab step!" one of the assistant coaches called out. "But get your hands more violent. You're too nice with it."
Too nice?
"Run it again," Coach Colbert said.
I reset. This time I came off with more aggression - my hand swat was sharper, almost a punch. My footwork was the same but my intent was different.
"Better! That's what I want to see! Next!"
We rotated through different releases for about thirty minutes. Behind me, I could hear two kids talking.
"Yo, this is way more technical than I thought," one of them said.
"Bro, I thought we'd just be running and catching. They really breaking down every little thing."
Next was route running. Coach Colbert had us split into four lines, running comebacks at fifteen yards.
I was in line behind a kid from Florida wearing Adidas everything - probably sponsored.
"You committed?" I asked while we waited.
"Soft commit to Miami," he said. "But I'm looking at FSU and Florida too. Family wants me to stay home."
"Damn why everybody got family drama."I replied
"Bro, you don't even know. My uncle played at Miami in the 90s. He's in my ear about 'The U' every damn day."
"What do you want?"
"Honestly? I don't know yet. Miami's cool but..." he lowered his voice, "I kinda want to leave Florida. See what's out there."
"I mean shit I get it. Sometimes you gotta get away to find yourself."
Damn, that sounded deeper than I meant it to.
"Facts. What about you? You committed?"
"Nah, wide open. Trying to figure out where I fit."
"That's probably better honestly. You got options if your here."
When my turn came, I stepped to the line. The drill was simple - stem vertical for twelve yards like I was running a go route, then plant and break back at fifteen.
I took off, selling the vertical with my eyes locked downfield. My stem was straight and fast - couldn't let the corner think anything else was coming.
At twelve yards, I gave a subtle head fake outside, making my eyes and head move like I was about to break to the corner. Then I planted my outside foot hard - so hard I felt the turf give a little under my cleat - and snapped my hips back toward the quarterback.
My arms came back naturally to help me decelerate, and I got my head around quick to find where the ball would be.
"Williams!" Coach Colbert yelled. "That head fake was nice but you're breaking at fourteen yards, not fifteen. Count your steps!"
Cmon Coach
"Run it again!"
I reset and did it again, this time making sure I was at exactly fifteen yards. The plant felt better this time, more controlled.
"Better! Consistency matters! Next!"
After routes, we moved to catching drills. Tennis ball drills first - Coach Colbert firing small tennis balls at us from different angles to work on hand-eye coordination.
I ended up in a group with Darius, Jay, Brandon, and Miguel.
"Bro, I hate tennis ball drills," Jay said while we waited. "These shits are so hard to track."
"That's the point though," Darius said. "If you can catch a tennis ball, you can catch anything."
"Philosophical ass," Brandon laughed.
Coach Colbert started firing tennis balls at us. Some guys struggled, balls bouncing off their hands. Others made it look easy.
When it was Darius's turn, he caught four out of five clean. "Let's go!"
"Aight, I see you," Jay said.
My turn. Coach Colbert fired the balls from different angles - high, low, to my left, to my right, one behind me. I caught all five clean, adjusting my hands to each throw.
"Good hands!" Coach Colbert said.
"Damn, bro," Miguel said after I finished. "You didn't miss one."
"Just locked in," I said.
We moved to actual footballs. High balls, low balls, balls thrown behind us, balls thrown in front. The kid in front of me dropped two straight passes - both hit his hands but he couldn't secure them.
"Fuck!" he yelled, frustrated.
"You're catching with your body," Brandon called out. "Use your hands, bro."
My turn came. The coach threw a high ball that I had to fully extend for. I reached up with both hands, caught it at the highest point, and brought it down to my chest.
"Again."
Low ball away from my body. I bent my knees, got low, and scooped it up with my fingertips before securing it.
"Again."
Ball thrown behind me. I turned my body mid-air, reached back with both hands, and caught it over my shoulder while falling.
"Good hands! Next!"
By the time we broke for a water break, everyone was feeling it. The California sun was no joke.
"Combine testing is next," Derek said as we grabbed water. "That's where shit gets real."
"You nervous?" I asked.
"Nah, just ready to see where I stack up against everybody."
Tyler jogged over, wiping sweat from his face. "Bro, did you see Travis's release? That shit was clean as hell."
"Yeah, dude's technique is crazy," I said. "But he's been doing this forever. We'll be alright."
"I'm not worried," Alex said. "We've been preparing."
"Facts. Coach Rivera's system got us ready."
"Receivers!" Coach Colbert's whistle blew. "Combine testing! Let's see what you've got!"
We started moving toward the track where they had the testing set up. I could see the 40-yard dash lanes, the vertical jump station, the broad jump markers. Everything was official - electronic timing, video recording, the whole setup.
No hiding now. Everyone's about to see what everyone else can really do.