I'll Show You

by Derrick Rose

  At Beasley we won the seventh and eighth grade championships. My teams won ninth grade, lost 10th. Then won two state titles in 11th and 12th. So you start getting talked about. It’s nothing I ever wanted, but it’s there when that happens.

  But it really was a lot of hard work—a lot. That’s where my friend Dre came in. Andre “Dre” Hamlin was older than me, maybe 10 years, but he’d be at the games, courtside sometimes. He was the one taking me to the gym. Kind of that male figure a lot of kids need but don’t have. Helping me stay away from the wrong things.

  You know that Malcolm Gladwell book about how you need 10,000 hours of practice to master a skill? It’s something I thought about. Dre was into gangs, too, but just regular stuff around the neighborhood. He was someone trying to straighten out his life, so he was around the team, helping out, trying to help kids do the right thing and help people and help himself, because he’d been there. He was someone from the neighborhood and I think he could see how hungry I was, that I wanted to get better and better myself as a person. I was mature for my age and I think he knew it was genuine. I knew he didn’t have a hidden motive or agenda. There was none of that. I felt he was chasing his dream to straighten out and helping me with my dream became part of that.

  Once I got to high school, me and Dre used to work out every day after school. He’d drive us all the way out to Homewood because there was this sports club there. I’d work out and then he’d drive me back home. I never really thought of it like, “Why’s he doing that for me?” I always felt he was one of those people who understood you want to get somewhere. I could easily be in the room and you wouldn’t even know I was there. But he knew I was trying to be great. He could see it. I felt like he was trying to push me to get there. Maybe because he didn’t do what he could have at my age. I don’t know. You need people like that in your life. You’re lucky if you find them. Especially from my neighborhood.

  Dre was the one I talked to a lot. From going to school to the colleges I was thinking about to girls to money, I could ask him questions about anything. I wanted to be the best. At the time, I also began to realize my feel for the game was different than some of the other players. I knew I could change the game, didn’t have to score to change the game. I could do it just with my speed, timing, and reaction.

  I could go to the gym right now and he’d tell me to do the same-leg layup you see guards doing now. No dribbling. I’d have a hard time doing that. But if you put me in a game and I’m reacting, I’ll do it. It’s hard to think about for me, it becomes mechanical. That was what no one understood when I was coming back from the injuries, especially the ACL. You have to learn to walk all over again, how to step, everything, and I’m a natural player, instinctive, not thinking about what I do but doing it based on what I see and what the other guy does. But then I’m having to think about even how to walk. Like when I see a hole I’m fast enough to get there, jump high enough to get there.

  * * *

  The reason I went to Simeon High School was because of my best friend, Randall Hampton. I got to know him in the sixth or seventh grade. His father ended up bringing him over to our team. And his dad ended up becoming the assistant coach. Randall became the guy who would travel everywhere with me when I was with the Bulls. He traveled with me before the league, too. He’s got a trucking company now and we’re still close. That’s always been my story, stick close to family and your few friends, people you know and trust—you love them, they love you.

  I could have gone to other high schools, but you want to be with your guys. Simeon is like a powerhouse basketball school now. I didn’t think about that. I wanted to go where it was comfortable. You see a group of guys over there, “What’s up?” That’s how I wanted to feel. It was like a brotherhood.

  What they taught there was discipline, and that’s what a lot of us needed at that time, including myself. The discipline was tough, tougher than you’d think or heard, and it still goes on there. But it lets you know the kids want to get better. You get a D, make a selfish pass, you get in trouble. It wasn’t always easy because of that, but I agreed to it. I signed up for it. So I couldn’t complain.

  At Simeon, the best player wears the No. 25 because of Ben Wilson. The number one guy gets to wear No. 25 and then everybody else picks. At freshman orientation they hand you a book about Ben’s life story—everything, even about him being killed right outside the school. Ben Wilson would have been one of the best ever. I remember getting the book and reading it, but then being part of that basketball program you hear some of the stories. It’s like a myth, this demigod, the stories and how much he achieved. You want to live up to that.

  As a freshman, you always wanted to have a big debut game. Everyone always came out to see if the new freshman was all that. I remember going to see Sherron Collins when he was a freshman. I was in eighth grade and I’m thinking to myself, “Damn! He cold. I gotta play against him next year?” He wasn’t scoring crazy, but in Chicago, with how many strong players there are, you know a kid can really play if they’re able to take on that pressure of being on varsity. He was able to bring the ball up the court comfortably as a freshman. That was rare, but you wanted to be in that rarefied category in Chicago. Some of these guys didn’t make it as far as I did, but in high school they were legendary.

  Freshman year is tough enough, but it can mess you up even worse when you add having your first love. It was a girl named Marina for me. She actually ended up cheating on me with a guy I knew, a guy whose relative was on our team—a teammate. It broke my heart, for real. I stopped eating, couldn’t eat for a week. I didn’t cry but I couldn’t eat. I was sad as fuck and I just remember with all my relationships that went bad, I used that as material in the gym. “Alright, you cheated on me? I want you to think about this when you see me on TV.” Just stupid stuff you think in high school. I know how that sounds now, but that’s how you think, how you get through it.

  One weird little note from this time, was that I also fell in love with the Range Rover. I know that sounds weird, but I was good friends with Tony Allen’s little brother, Ryan, and when Tony was in the league in Boston he left his little brother his Range Rover. So Ryan used to pick us up in that Range Rover in high school and I just fell in love with it. I dreamed it would be something special to have someday. And actually, the first thing I bought when I got money after being drafted in the NBA—well, after getting my mom a house in Homewood, where she wanted to be, near friends and people she knew she could talk to—was a Range Rover. Of all things, I always wanted a Range Rover. Those were my dreams. I’ve been careful with my money, which is first about having a great team, like a family. My financial advisor and my banks work together. There’s three of them, everybody watching everybody. Then I link everything. I’m involved, but I rely on the experts. I invested in trust funds. I don’t really take big risks with money.

  Anyway, back to Simeon. We won the city title my freshman year, but I didn’t get to go downstate to play for the state title. The coach then, Coach Hambric, had this rule about no freshmen on the varsity. I knew he wasn’t going to change his rules for me. There was a chance I could have gone with them, but he told them they’re good without me. It was disappointing, but I had gone to that school because of Randall. Coach Robert Smith was taking over the next year and he had seen me play back in sixth grade.

  Coach Smith told me back then about how he first thought Bobby Trimble, one of my teammates in sixth grade, was the best player because he was scoring all the points. But he said he realized I didn’t have to score. Like when we won my senior year. I think I had two points in the title game. But it made me happy when all the others got the attention. I know I’m a part of it. But I was so happy for them. They’d remember winning that game for the rest of their lives. One thing I had going for me was I felt I already knew what a player was going to do before he did it. That gives you a whole different perspective on the game. I guess that’s
how I got so many assists.

  But I wasn’t playing point guard in high school. I played the three. I was doing damn near everything Jabari Parker did later but was doing it at 6’3”. It was the same plays he was running, I was running. Down curls, lobs, elbow, isolations. I also could push the ball as a three. We had a decent-sized team, too. Randall was playing point guard. I used to play a way more controlled game. It was in AAU when my brother Reggie switched me to the point guard that I really started to play a totally different game. Like I said, that was when I found my alter ego, No. 1, the scorer.

  * * *

  That first game my freshman year at Simeon was a big one. It was scary. But once I get into the game, it’s all gone. We beat Thornwood and then we were off. There were so many fun games—some not so much—battles and rivalries. You’re more famous in college, richer in the league, but there’s nothing like those high school rivalry games. Eventually you play so many games you start to forget things, but those high school rivalries are unforgettable.

  Sophomore year we lost to Bobby Frasor and Brother Rice in double overtime in the sectional. They cheated us. There was a foul call at the free throw line after just about everyone fouled out. It was a hard-fought game. I remember both teams making big plays on both sides, an intense game.

  I remember when the draft came and it was me going to Chicago or Miami and I’m thinking, “I’m playing at home or playing in Miami with Dwyane Wade. I can’t lose.” I never knew Wade as a player, had never heard of him. I’m from the city. I never really saw him there. That’s nothing against him, but growing up you heard things about Will Bynum and Sean Dockery, Patrick Beverley, Sherron Collins, and that white boy who went to Glenbrook North, Jon Scheyer. Real battles, but sorry, no D-Wade, as good as he became.

  My junior year, when we won the city title, the battles were serious. Scheyer averaged like 50 the last four games, but we ended up winning against his team. Patrick Beverley, man, he was something. You see how tough he is in the league now, doesn’t back down from anyone. The better you are, the tougher he challenges you. That’s what the high school games are like. Bragging rights over fame. We played against John Marshall High—which we just called Marshall—and Beverley, an exhibition game once at Chicago State, and they beat us by 20. It wasn’t close. They smacked us by 20 and he’s talking some big shit, same way he does now. But it was even worse then. Oh my god, smacked us by 20 and then we end up playing them for state.

  I don’t know if you know this but because of some weird high school stuff they make the two city teams play against each other so there’s not two Chicago teams playing downstate for the title. That was the year we beat Peoria Richwoods in a low-scoring game for the title, Simeon’s first since 1984.

  Beat Scheyer and Glenbrook North that year. Scheyer was a hooper. We knew that when we played against them that it was gonna be the hardest game of the tournament. I remember our whole team having to always be aware of where he’s at. I think one game he had like 50 in a half. Lots of city kids think white kids can’t play. But when you play AAU, you go everywhere else and it opens your eyes to everything. Then you get home and you don’t tell nobody that, “This boy from Iowa kicked my ass.” I keep that on the hush.

  I don’t judge anybody on their look or color or name. If you’re on the court, I’m giving you respect and that’s that. It’s why the basketball court is such a good place. The world should be like that. Play everyone straight up and then shake hands. Going out we knew how we had to play them because all the guys played AAU and we knew what type of guys we were playing against. We knew what he was capable of.

  Then it was Marshall. We ended up beating them and I remember walking up to Beverley like, “Good luck in college.” His high school career was done. It was his last game. He was a senior. Sweet after the way they got us. That’s the kind of rivalry thing you love in high school. That was the kind of trash talking I like. I don’t talk to guys in games. I like to talk about the final score.

  I remember a game when we beat Morgan Park—that was scary. We’re walking out of the gym and there’s these guys with ski masks over their faces waiting for us to come out. We’re at their school, so there’s a lot going on after the game. A fight breaks out. I’m seeing everybody scattering everywhere, everybody punching people, kicking people. So somehow you just end up fighting. I was with Randall. Next time I saw him he was holding his nose, his mouth busted, just a crazy night. But that was life in the Public League sometimes, too. You go at each other so hard it can spill over.

  * * *

  I only played on two AAU teams—Mean Streets Express and my old team, Ferrari. My brother organized Mean Streets after I left Ferrari. It was basically my team. He wanted me to have a platform. Reggie didn’t want to start from scratch and start a new AAU team, so he went to a team in Mean Streets that already existed. He said, “Look, I’ve got my brother and he’s a hell of a player. Can you start a B team?” If you’re good, they support you, but if not everything just dries up.

  The backcourt on that Mean Streets team was me and Eric Gordon Jr. We won Peach Jam, which is one of the biggest AAU tournaments in the world. And we were the first team to ever do that our first year being in the tournament.

  When it was time for college we almost both went to Indiana. He decommitted from Illinois and I was about to go to Indiana with him. I was this close and just talking to my mom, but she was like, “Just sleep on it and tomorrow you’ll wake up and know what to do.” I woke up and Memphis was where I felt more comfortable.

  North Carolina had always been my dream school to go to. Bobby Frasor was one reason. With him going there it showed me at the time, “Damn, they’re looking at kids here.” You know what I mean? I was looking at it like if they were looking at Bobby, they probably saw me play. So I was thinking maybe I could go there.

  The first letter that I ever got from a college was from UConn. Yeah, exciting. I hung it up in my room. Recruiting was crazy, but not so bad for me. My brother was taking care of all the meetings. But stuff would happen. I remember being at a party downtown during that time. We were staying the night over at the Hyatt and I remember waking up and my phone was going crazy. My brother was like, “Hey, get back to the house!”

  So I hurry back to the house in the middle of the night. Some white guy had jumped out the car—it’s when we were living on Talman—and he’s asking my sister-in-law why Eric Gordon took Illinois off his list. She was scared, thought he was trying to harm her. So she called my brother and said someone was attacking her. She said somebody was there, offering, talking about paying money.

  But not Coach Calipari. He made it simple and easy. For one, he came to my house. Bruce Weber from Illinois never would. Cal was the first coach to actually pull up at my house. Pulled up in a Hummer and everything. I didn’t even know where Memphis was. Didn’t have family down there or anything. But I went on the visit and got a sense of what was going on with his system and I felt I could just fit in with the older guys.

  I liked North Carolina from watching TV, the Duke–North Carolina games, the legacy of North Carolina. So you wanna go there. My list was North Carolina, UCLA, Indiana, Kansas, Memphis, DePaul, and Illinois.

  My brother didn’t want me to visit UCLA or North Carolina. I think he thought I’d commit right away. He wanted me to think and make the decision. He really put me in position to have control over my life, not the other way around. People always think my family made decisions for me. I was always too stubborn for that.

  When I was younger, I was obsessed with North Carolina. Told everyone I was going there. What got me with Illinois was Bruce Weber wouldn’t come to my crib. I probably wouldn’t have gone there, but I think he was scared to come to my house because of the neighborhood. That’s what it looked like to me, so they were off my list. It became, “Why do I always have to go see you?” I used to sneak off to Illinois sometimes to play. But if you w
on’t come to my crib?

  Cal was the biggest reason I went to Memphis.

  He’s got that gift of gab. But he also was honest to me. He told my mom I was going to do what I had to do or wouldn’t be in his program for long. I respected him for treating my mom the way he did. He treated her like he’d known her for 20 years. It was with utmost respect and for me to see a white guy being honest like that meant something.

  I didn’t grow up around white people. My first time being in class with a white kid was in college. So a white dude coming in my crib and talking to my mom and she’s understanding where he’s coming from and he’s showing her respect, that was big. And I was feeling the same way. He stood on everything he said. He has integrity. That’s something I respect about him.

  I know what some people say about Cal, but he was always just honest with me: “If you don’t do what you’re supposed to do, you won’t be in my program long, kid.” If I hadn’t gone to Memphis, it probably would have been Indiana. I really didn’t know I was gonna commit to Memphis until I went down for the visit. It just felt so much like home.

  They had older guys, more mature. There was focus. It seemed everybody had one goal, one mission. When I got back home, my mom told me to sleep on it. She was like, “I don’t wanna know right now. Make your decision in the morning.” I slept on it and I was really debating going to Indiana. I knew E.J.—that’s what we call Eric Gordon Jr.—was going there. That was real big. I woke up and Memphis was the only thing that was on my mind and I went downstairs and told her. She was kind of surprised. But she knew I was in good hands. And we made it all the way to the championship game.