The end of second grade should've been simple. Summer break on the horizon, math worksheets crumpled in backpacks, and recess battles fading into memory. But for me—Kareem—it was the beginning of something way bigger.
It all started at the dinner table in May. Spaghetti night, I remember. I had been turning an idea over in my head for weeks, and my chubby little self couldn't hold it in any longer.
"I wanna go pro," I said suddenly, my voice cutting through the clatter of plates and forks.
Kj paused mid-bite. Kyle squinted like I had just spoken in a different language. Mom looked up, eyebrows raised. Dad smiled slightly, maybe thinking it was cute. But I wasn't kidding.
"I've been thinking… If I want to become a professional soccer player, I have to start now. Like right now. Every day. Training, running, eating right—filming everything. We make a YouTube channel. Build a brand. Show our progress. Get better. Make money. Go global."
I laid it out, breathless but confident. I told them my full plan: wake up early, run 2 to 5 miles every morning, train after school, solo drills in the backyard if no team practice, stretch three times a day, film everything. And then I hit them with the brand: 3KB—for me, Kj, and Kyle. Three brothers. All ballers. All names start with K.
I think they thought it was a phase—some weird mix of childhood energy and a sugar rush. But I was serious. Dead serious.
They laughed at first. Then nodded. Then shrugged and agreed—not because they believed it would work, but because they figured, why not? We already loved soccer. Training more was never a bad thing. Plus, as Mom quietly mentioned to Dad later, maybe I just wanted more time with my older brothers.
I didn't care about the reason. I had what I needed.
A week later, I had a video camera, a tripod, access to the family computer, and a YouTube channel set up under my parents' names because I was too young. I even got an email to send the raw footage to a family friend who would edit the videos for us—for free, at first. I was locked in.
The plan was simple. Film the grind. Show the work. Train like pros. Play like pros. Upload consistently—three times a week. Every session ended with a fun challenge: crossbar, juggling contests, shooting with our weak foot, races. Real stuff. Real competition. Real chemistry.
Nobody else really took the channel seriously, but that was fine. I remembered to bring the camera. I gave the morning updates. I explained the drills. I filmed the sessions. I uploaded the videos. I created the routine.
By the time summer vacation hit, we were training two, sometimes three times a day. Mornings started with runs. Midday fieldwork. Afternoon bodyweight strength training—pushups, pullups, situps, planks. It was too early for the gym, but we made do.
We invited friends to join in. Filmed those sessions too. Suddenly, the 3KB channel had faces beyond just the three of us. There was Kj's friend, always talking smack before crossbar challenges. Kyle's friend, the dribble wizard. My own best friend, who always tried to outdo me in juggling.
It was fun. That was the secret sauce. Yeah, we trained hard—but we had fun. And it showed.
The views started to come. Slowly at first. A hundred subscribers. Then five hundred. Then a thousand. I didn't tell anyone. Not my parents. Not my brothers. They still thought it was a hobby. I figured… I'd wait.
"Let's give it a year," I told myself. "Train. Upload. Improve. Repeat."