Finding My Place

When I ran out of the tunnel at Memorial Stadium for the first time, I thought about my parents.

They came to this country as teenagers, leaving Liberia during a civil war with nothing but the hope of a better future. They worked to give my siblings and me a safe home, a good education, and the chance to chase dreams they never had.

Every step I take on the field is because of them.

That’s why my first handoff inside the stadium meant so much. I’d counted the days—475 of them—until that moment.

The ball hit my hands, I made a couple of good runs, and it felt like everything I’d worked for had come full circle. It wasn’t just about the yards I gained. It was about realizing that their sacrifices had brought me here.

I wasn’t nervous. I’ve always believed that nerves mean you didn’t prepare enough. If I’ve put in the work during the week, then I’ve earned the confidence to play free.

That first carry showed me I belonged, but more than that, it reminded me why I play: to honor the people who gave me this opportunity in the first place.

 

 

 

 

 

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A Chip on My Shoulder

Back in Minneapolis, I played basketball, baseball, football, and ran track. Actually, baseball was probably my best sport growing up. 

But football always had my heart.

By my sophomore year, I was being recruited in two sports—smaller Division I schools for basketball, smaller DIs for football.

That’s when Troy Bell entered my life. 

If you know hoops, you know Troy. He was Mr. Basketball in Minnesota, starred at Boston College, and was drafted into the NBA the same year as LeBron.

He went to my high school, and people kept telling him, “You’ve got to come watch this kid.”

When he finally did, we connected right away. He told me he loved football growing up, but basketball took over for him in high school. Then he looked me in the eye and said, “You’ve got something special on the football field—something I haven’t seen around here in a long time.”

Coming from someone like him, that meant everything.

Troy became one of my biggest mentors, and to this day, he still is. His words gave me the confidence to lean into football, even when the recognition wasn’t there yet.

Because honestly, the offers didn’t pour in.

I got my first from Northern Iowa during my junior year. The rest were smaller schools. I went to camps at Minnesota, Iowa, Iowa State—no offers. Even after being named Mr. Football in Minnesota and National High School Player of the Year, the Power 5s weren’t calling.

It was frustrating, but it gave me a chip on my shoulder. I felt overlooked because of my size and because of where I was from. But I didn’t care. All I wanted was an opportunity.

When Nebraska finally offered, late in my senior year, it was all I’d hoped for: A chance to play in front of a passionate fan base, compete at the highest level, and not have my parents pay for school. 

It was everything I needed.

Earning My Shot

My first year was humbling.

I redshirted, sat, and learned. Coming from being “the guy” in high school to barely playing was an adjustment, but it forced me to grow.

Then came the game against Illinois. My first meaningful carries. A couple of good runs. 

It may not have looked like much to anyone else, but to me, it was validation. The work I’d put in was starting to show.

Taking a handoff is more than just grabbing the ball and running. It’s about vision. Coach EJ Barthel has taught me that being a running back is as much mental as it is physical.

Before the snap, my eyes are scanning the defense—what front they’re in, where the linebackers are, what clues I can pick up. Once the ball’s in my hands, it’s about reading leverage, trusting the line, and attacking the crease before it closes.

Over time, that’s become second nature. The game slows down, and I can play faster, more decisively.

Now, I’m at the point where I feel like I could coach a running back through it myself. That’s how much the details matter.

Running the ball isn’t just about instinct—it’s about preparation, trust, and making a decision in a split second. And when it all comes together, it feels just like the game you fell in love with as a kid, out there playing free.

It wasn’t always easy, though. There was a point where I had to think hard about whether Nebraska was still the right place for me.

I love it here, I love everything about it—but I had to pray on it, really take time to reflect. I considered whether leaving might give me a better chance to showcase my talent.

At the same time, I knew we had something special here. My parents love it here. I’ve even built a second family with my next-door neighbors. It felt like home, and I just wanted an opportunity to prove myself on the field.

That’s why it meant so much when Coach Holgorsen came in and I saw how his offense could bring out my strengths.

Some people were scared when I thought about leaving, but I believe God does everything for a reason. When I came back, I felt the love immediately—receiving texts from people in the building and genuine support from my teammates.

Even though it all happened quickly, I knew I had made the right decision. 

It really did feel like I was coming back home.

 

 

 

 

 

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Looking Ahead

There’s one game that stands out this season: Minnesota.

Going back home, playing in front of family and friends, it’s personal. Growing up, I dreamed of playing for the Gophers, but that opportunity never came.

Now I get to take the field against them wearing Nebraska red. That’s a full circle for me, and it means everything.

But more than that, I want to be a role model, whether in Minnesota or Nebraska. Football is my passion, but it’s not everything. I want people to remember me as someone who gave back—to my community, to my faith, to the people who believed in me.

One of those people is my older brother, Charles. He’s been my biggest inspiration since day one. No matter what I’m going through, whether on or off the field, he pushes me to be the best version of myself. Watching how hard he works and how much he believes in me keeps me going every single day.

My ultimate goal is the NFL, but that only happens if I keep working, keep trusting the process, and keep putting the team first.

When I think about where this journey started—my parents leaving everything behind in Liberia, me as a kid in Minneapolis dreaming big, Troy Bell pulling me aside to tell me I was special, the long wait for that first handoff—I see how every step has led here.

And now, every time I walk out of the tunnel, I remind myself: this is bigger than me.

It’s about honoring where I came from, the sacrifices that got me here, and the future I’m still chasing.