Never Too Late

Last night, I had the good fortune to support one of my “day ones” (just fyi, there will be a lot slang vernacular in this article, just hold tight and it will all make sense fam). The day was beyond hectic. It started at 3:36 a.m. with stretching and meditation. I then had to sub a fitness class and teach a 5:30 a.m. and a 7a.m. treadmill workout. From there I hit the football field and summer school lasting from 8a.m. to 3:30 p.m. Oh, the day is far from over. The football team loaded up in the van to drive from Pasadena to Brentwood for a seven-on-seven passing league game, where we got lost and didn’t arrive until damn near 5:30 p.m. Our team did okay. The torture was wrapping it up at 7 p.m. and trying to head back to Pasadena in traffic off the 405 freeway.

Another one of my day ones was meeting me at the house at 8p.m. so we could go see my boy perform two songs at a lounge in Sherman Oaks. I drive as quickly and safely as I could with high school boys in the van when my phone died, killing the ability for my wife or homeboy to reach me. We got back to the school at 8p.m. I knew it was going to take us at least 30 to 35 minutes to get to the lounge from my place but I still had to drive home from the school which was another 10 minutes added on. The performances started at 9 p.m. To add on to the pile, all I had to eat all day was a solid lunch.

Okay, I’ll wrap this shit up. I got to the house, threw my stuff down, put on some clothes and told my waiting wife and friend to jump in the whip and hit the freeway. We got out the door by 8:20p.m. We drove and blabbed back and forth about a crazy incident and phone call I had that day to the Watch Commander from La Crescenta Sherriff Department (don’t worry, that article is coming soon). We made it to spot on time. He was outside and we linked up, vibin’ off his excitement. I was looking forward to him performing.

When we were sixteen, I vividly remember telling him, “You gotta get on stage and perform bro!” He is a real talent. He’s a rapper. More precise, he is a lyricist and an artist. He got flows. I mean ridiculous flows. He’s been spittin since we were kids, knowing him since the age of twelve. Back then and right now, to this day, I would bet my whole paycheck on him in a battle against anyone. Yeah, I know, it is a tall claim and you might think I’m a homer. That’s not the case. I tell my people the truth about their skills in any endeavor, on me. He is legit, that talented. Okay, maybe he wouldn’t torch some of my all-time favorite artists but you get what I’m saying.

The showcase began and people got up to live their dream. Not everyone was very talented. I wasn’t feelin’ a lot of these artists. They were trash, in my humble opinion. I mean hot garbage but I respected each and everyone one of them for having the courage to get up in from a bar full of people and spit their soul. Kudos to all of them. I couldn’t do it, not these days. His time finally came and we got out of our seats to vibe with him. He killed it, as expected. As Dylon would say, “he spit hot fire!” (If you don’t get that reference, sorry, too much to explain, just Google it). We showed him some love and headed back home, ending my 21-hour day by 1 a.m. to be back up by 6 a.m.

I think I might know what you’re thinking. Some would laugh at or mock a thirty-five-year-old aspiring rapper. Not me. I ain’t laughin’ at none of them. Each and every person that got up there was living a dream. My boy was living his dream. How could I hate on that? I was proud of him. I was excited for him. I felt blessed to have been able to make it and see him perform. I felt honored to know that was one of my day ones and something he does best was on full display for the world, everyone in that room, to bare witness.

I don’t know if he will become the next international star, underground king, or viral success. I don’t know if he will ever perform for a crowd of 50 or 50,000 people screaming his name. I don’t know how many albums he will drop that hit the number one charts or if people hate on him for pursuing the rap game at his age, and never give him the shot he deserves, or give him credit for his skill level. I also don’t know why it took him so damn long to get his ass on stage when I have been telling him for two decades his talent is worthy. I don’t know the answers to any of that.

What I do know is no matter where it does or doesn’t go, it is never too late to pursue your dream. People get older and let outside influences tell them they can’t do or be what they want in life. We let the cultural norms dictate how we maneuver and what we deem feasible. If you have the guts and the courage to dream big and actually go after your dream, anything is possible. You know why? Excellence will always win and outshine no matter what the circumstance. It may take longer than expected or be more difficult than anticipated but if you don’t give up, what you seek, you will find, in all it’s glory. Good luck bro bro! (not a typo there) Whether 50 or 50,000 in the stands, you know I will be one of them.