Rocafonda, Spain – The front page of Spain’s biggest sports tabloid Marca screamed LAMINE YA! (Lamine Now!) as speculation mounted over whether the teenage wonder boy would sign a new contract for FC Barcelona.

Lamine Yamal is expected to renew his contract with Barcelona before he turns 18 in July, his agent Jorge Mendes assured reporters last week.

Deco, the sporting director of Barca, denied reports that Yamal’s agent had asked that the 17-year-old be made the highest paid player in the dressing room, while Spanish media speculated that he could look forward to a 10-fold pay increase to more than 15 million euros ($17m) net per season.

Whatever the astronomical sums involved in signing the gifted winger who helped Barca clinch the La Liga title this season, it will seem a world away from the very humble beginnings of this Spanish sporting prodigy.

Yamal grew up in a poor area of Mataro, an industrial town located about 32km (20 miles) north of Barcelona, but it is a world away from the glitz and glamour of the Catalan capital.

The Barca footballer learned his craft on the streets of Rocafonda, a working-class neighbourhood of Mataro.

About half of the 11,000 people who live in this corner of Mataro are classified as “at risk of poverty”, according to the Spanish National Statistics Institute. Many flats appear run down and lack basic modern-day amenities like lifts. One centre in Rocafonda offers help to children who are struggling at school.

With 88 different nationalities in the area, Arabic halal butchers are a common sight.

Evictions are a daily occurrence in Rocafonda as many households struggle to pay the rent, which averages about $1,334 per month, a fortune to many.

Gen-next inspiration

Nevertheless, football – or rather Yamal – gives people hope here.

“In Rocafonda, more Lamine Yamals and fewer evictions”, reads the graffiti at the Club de Futbol Rocafonda, the municipal football pitch.

Children play nearby, perhaps dreaming that maybe, just maybe, they could be the next Lamine Yamal.

Wearing an Argentina shirt, Mohammed Kaddouri, who is a year younger than Yamal, says the Barca football player is an inspiration to young people here.

“Since Lamine, so many people have started playing football and believe they could be like him. It is not just boys but more girls are playing football too,” he says.

His friend Damia Castillo, also 16, met Yamal when he came back to see his family, who still live in the neighbourhood.

“He always talks to us like he is a normal person, not like he is some big star. He is from here, and so are we. It makes you think, you know, maybe it could be me,” Castillo told Al Jazeera.

The Messi effect

Friends said Yamal owes his precocious talents to a baptism of fire playing in the tough streets of Rocafonda.

“Lamine learned to play so well because he started playing with bigger kids. Some of these were bigger than him, and some of them were tough kids,” says family friend Mohammed Ben Serghine.

“Despite what has happened to him with all this fame, he has remained humble, and he is good with the kids when he comes back to Rocafonda to see his family.”

We meet in the Bar El Cordobes, the local bar frequented by Yamal’s father, Mounir Nasraoui, who pops in now and again.

On the wall is a yellowing Barca shirt signed by Yamal and replete with his photograph.

Last year, the Spain winger’s father published a photograph on social media of his son, which was taken when he was a baby.

Yamal was cradled by then-Barcelona footballer Lionel Messi. He wrote on social media: “Two beginnings of two legends. It now appears amazingly prescient.”

The Argentina superstar was 20 at the time and had taken part in a promotional campaign for FC Barcelona for UNICEF. Yamal was only five months old when his parents entered him into a raffle and he was paired up with Messi. Yamal’s smiles won over a nervous Messi at the photoshoot.

Statistically, Yamal is ahead of Messi for a 17-year-old player, according to football writer Ryan O’Hanlon of ESPN.

“Broadly, this is the conclusion: [Michael] Owen, Kylian Mbappe and Yamal are the best teenagers in modern soccer history,” he wrote, basing these assertions on the number of goals and assists.

‘304’ celebration

Rocafonda might have been forgotten, like many other fringe, outer-suburban Barcelona neighbourhoods, were it not for Yamal himself.

On the walls, someone has painted the number 304. It might just be graffiti, except for one thing. When Yamal scored a wonder goal against France in the Euro 2024 last year, he celebrated by making the sign three, zero, four with his fingers. It was a reference to the postcode of Rocafonda, which in full reads 08304.

As the world was transfixed by Yamal’s dazzling skills, it was a sign that even when footballers can expect seven- or even eight-figure salaries, some have not forgotten their roots.

At the Bar Familia L Y 304 Rocafonda, run by the player’s uncle, Abdul, you are left in no doubt that Yamal remains faithful to where he came from.

Decked out in photographs of Yamal and signed shirts, in one corner is a tiny, plastic version of the World Cup. It begs the thought: might Yamal one day lift the real thing for Spain?

Family is everything

The player’s own story starts 30 years ago when his maternal grandmother, Fatima, arrived from Morocco and took up a job in an old people’s residence.

She worked to bring her seven children over from Morocco and managed as a single mother.

Yamal’s mother, Sheila Ebana, is from Equatorial Guinea, a former Spanish colony in Western Africa. The player’s parents divorced, and when she moved away from Rocafonda, she enrolled him in Club de Futbol La Torreta in Granollers, a nearby town.

Yamal speaks fondly about his mother, who gave him the best childhood she could despite the difficulties she faced.

“Maybe I didn’t have the best childhood, but I didn’t see it. I only saw the beautiful, thanks to her,” he said in an Instagram interview with user tumejorjugada.

Life for both parents has changed dramatically since their son became a superstar.

Ebana now has 258,000 followers on Instagram and has moved to Barcelona. His father has also moved to the Catalan capital.

Changing expectations

Yamal started playing for CF La Torreta, a small club with 200 players, when he was only five.

On the window of the club, there is a photograph of the player when he arrived as a small child and another more recent one.

“He came here when he was five years old and stayed just two years before Barcelona came for him,” says Jordi Vizcaino, president of CF La Torreta.

“I still can hardly believe it when I see how far he has gone, when I see Yamal playing for Barca and Spain. He was just a kid when he came here and is still just a kid really.”

Rocio Escandell, president of the Association of Rocafonda Neighbours, has known Yamal and his family all his life.

“Lamine has put Rocafonda on the world map. It is a working-class area with lots of migrants, but he has made people here believe they can be something. It does not have to be a footballer. It might be a doctor. Just to believe,” she told Al Jazeera.

Her nine-year-old daughter, Abril, is proof of how Yamal has changed expectations.

“I have been playing football since I was small, and I score more and more goals. When I am older, I want to be like Lamine,” says Abril.

NEW DIGS … Palo Alto’s wastewater operation on Embarcadero Way will soon undergo a rare expansion, with the city recently completing a lease agreement to take over a commercial building across the street. Once occupied, the building at 2470 Embarcadero Way will house the Regional Water Quality Control Plant’s nine-person Laboratory Group and its five-person Engineering Group. According to a report from the Public Works Department, these employees are currently working in substandard facilities. The laboratory is 55-years old and has “inadequate space to conduct the increased analytic testing required under current regulations.” The engineers have been working out of a trailer at the wastewater plant, which serves Palo Alto, Mountain View, Los Altos, Los Altos Hills, East Palo Alto and Stanford University. The city is looking to lease the recently renovated 13,946-square-foot building for 20 years for $38.7 million, with an option to extend the lease for another 10. The cost will be shared by all the partner cities. The new report suggests that the operation’s expansions may not be over. Public Works staff is now “strategically exploring commercial property options due to the ongoing market changes resulting from the COVID-19 pandemic and the shift to remote and hybrid work models,” the report states. “A combination of new laboratory space completions and commercial property tenants vacating their existing space results in higher available supply, presenting an opportunity to secure additional properties.” The leasing of the space will not impact visitors to the Baylands, as no activities that produce noise or emissions will be transferred to the new location, according to the city.

BOOKED FOR GOOD … Twenty years ago, East Palo Alto residents voted to turn its Transient Occupancy Tax into a grant program for youth, senior and family services, following the direction of nearby cities that wanted to allocate hotel revenue to local nonprofits. Today, the city continues to provide those grants annually, awarding over $2 million so far to “promote a healthier and safe community free of violence and crime,” according to the East Palo Alto website. The City Council voted Tuesday night to award that money, $30,000 each, to the Boys & Girls Club of the Peninsula, Fit to the Core, Paxton Sports Academy, Live In Peace, Mid-Peninsula Athletic Association, Fresh Approach, East Palo Alto Greyhounds Youth Sports Club, Hope Horizon, Youth Community Service, EPACENTER, East Palo Alto Community Media Center and East Palo Alto Tennis and Tutoring. East Palo Alto’s community grants review panel recommended the 12 chosen organizations from 20 applications, said Community Services Manager Maurice Baker, based on what cities the organizations served, how much time they dedicated to mental health and wellness and how they measured progress indicators. While the council unanimously approved the awardees, council member Webster Lincoln proposed a change for future grants. “I think the list is good but I do have a recommendation, we’re funding the Boys and Girls Club but we’re not funding the YMCA,” he said. “… It didn’t make sense to me.” He also recommended the city include more technical and science-based organizations like the Urban Eagles. Council member Carlos Romero agreed with some of Lincoln’s recommendations but recommended that the council approve the current awardees and consider helping choose the nonprofits in future years. “There will possibly be future opportunities through your priorities to support organizations like the YMCA,” Baker added. 

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Nature Coast Technical High School hosted the NCBL youth playoffs and championships on May 19, where teams from the pee-wee, junior varsity, and varsity divisions competed for championship titles.

In the pee-wee division championship game, for children ages five to seven, the Sharks edged out the Tigers with a buzzer-beater, clinching the victory and completing an undefeated season.

In the junior varsity division, for ages eight to ten, the Spartans dominated the playoffs, first overcoming the Lakers, then defeating the Pirates in the championship game to claim the title of JV Division Champions.

Spartans players Xavier Thompkins and Jace Gaines had a particularly good night, dominating the court and helping their team score several points.

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“They sort of stepped up and led their team to the championship,” said David Pisarcik, a basketball coach and teacher at Nature Coast.

In the varsity division, for ages 11 to 13, the Celtics bounced back in the playoffs after dropping their final two regular-season games. They defeated the Knicks 35–29 in the semifinal, then went on to overpower the Cavs in the championship, securing the title of 2025 NCBL Varsity League Champions.

Pisarcik helped found the Nature Coast Youth Basketball League 10 years ago to give his son a place to learn fundamental skills and drills, while also providing other children the opportunity to benefit from the experience.

“I want my son to have the best trainings and leagues, and I think everybody wants that for their child,” Pisarcik said. “I’m just in a situation where I can create that.”

The goal of the league is to ensure they run the best league, teach fundamentals, and provide the necessary skills and drills for players to improve.

“If everybody gets better, their team gets better, and then they win,” Pisarcik said.

The NCBL youth basketball league season began in March and ran for seven weeks. At the end of the regular season, the top four teams in each division advanced to the playoffs.

Pisarcik estimated that there are about 130 kids participating in the league, with players traveling from Citrus County, Pasco County, and Tampa. The league is limited to six teams per division and allows boys and girls to play together.

Players are selected based on the type of team each coach aims to build. Teams are formed through an evaluation process, where kids take part in drills, skills assessments, and scrimmages while coaches observe and take notes. While coaches fight for top players, finding “hidden gems” among the role players is key to a team clicking.

“Everybody has a role, and everybody has to execute that role if they want to succeed,” Pisarcik said.

Pisarcik’s favorite part of watching the playoffs and championship games was seeing the kids compete. He enjoys seeing their smiles, their effort, their desire to improve, and their investment in the game.

“I know they look forward to this each week,” Pisarcik said. “I see the smiles on their faces when they come into the gym.”

The NCBL youth basketball league will kick off its next season in August, but will host several camps over the summer to help players maintain and develop their skills.

It is Tuesday at the Athletic Fitness Center (AFC), and in the unnamed and undedicated 1,200 seat gymnasium that some (none) have called Poughkeepsie’s Cathedral Of Basketball, that means it is Intramural Night. The bleachers have been rolled back, two folding tables have been burdened with a portable scoreboard and players of all stripes are warming up on the auxiliary hoops that have been lowered for the games. Tonight, Vassar’s hobbyist athletes will not play on the main court, but on two perpendicular side courts, with lines so faint that there will be several resultant misplays and accidental step-outs. There will be baffling gameplay tonight—things you never thought you would see on a basketball court. There will be stepback jumpers in a different area code than the rim. There will be chanting. There will be basketball.

I myself am a bit of a participant in Vassar’s intramural basketball tapestry. This year, I have played in two games, starting neither. I have one point: a free throw off a perfect block miscalled as a foul (I missed the second one). It is the most points I have scored in organized ball since freshman year, when I scored four points on a lights out 2/2 from the field. Tonight, though, I am on the sidelines, watching my team, the Oarsmen, get blown out by 50 points. I am not joking. It is like 34 to 75.

When you are a journalist, your personal life is inexorable from your professional life. You get mugged and you pick up the crime beat. You make friends with a security guard and do a piece peering into their life. You have a baby and suddenly you are doing crib reviews. So, watching my friend Alex get posterized by a varsity basketball player, a journalistic question arose: Why? Why were we losing this game by fifty points? Why, during my career in Vassar intramurals, had I seen so many fights nearly break out on the court?  Why were people trying so damn hard?

As I pondered these questions, I realized that what I thought was a simple question about athletic temperament was far more than that—a rollicking ride through the nature of competitive and recreational athletics, the nature of failure and why exactly so many of us choose to spend our time playing a children’s game.

— — — — — 

Vassar’s sports have always been a punchline. Way back in 1950, before we were coed, there was a joke on the “Burns and Allen Show”: Gracie Allen knew so little about football, she “couldn’t pick the winner if Notre Dame was playing Vassar!” My rowing coach, who went to Williams in the 1970s and played on the men’s soccer team, said that tying against the Vassar men was akin to being castrated. At this typically elite college, expectations for athletics have always been very low.

“When I started refereeing intramurals at Vassar, I didn’t think this was going to be super high level soccer or basketball. I’m sort of pleasantly surprised in some ways that it is pretty competitive,” says Ben Masur ’27, a student referee employed by Vassar Athletics. Student referees are the unsung heroes of the intramural system, eschewing the typical Soviet-style make-work jobs that most students snag in exchange for a job that requires you to be on your feet and, potentially, in other people’s faces. Anybody who has participated in intramural sports at Vassar knows that participants sweat, cry and bleed for their shot at the coveted Intramural Champions shirt, whose iconic design can be seen around campus. The passion in the air on intramural nights is palpable.

“I remember one of the first games I reffed was a faculty soccer game. I remember there was a play-in corner near me, and the [faculty member] just decked a kid. Definitely a foul. But I remember him saying ‘shoulder, shoulder, shoulder!’ I remember just thinking ‘Man, are we really taking intramurals so seriously here at Vassar? I didn’t realize I was going to get this much flack for calling what I thought was an obvious foul.”

Masur is only halfway through his Vassar College umping career, but he has seen a lot during his short time on the job. A lot of the most passionate intramural participants, he observed, are formerly high-level athletes: “You have people who played a sport or two in high school and didn’t think they would be able to play at college.”

What Masur is describing is a fundamental aspect of the intramural experience that is largely unsung: getting totally waxed by a couple of dudes who are not quite good enough to make the varsity team, but still played in high school enough to pick your pocket and drain three after three. It is in those moments when you realize just how big the gulf is between those players, who could not get recruited to Division III, and you. It is less of a gulf and more of an ocean. In the words of Brian Scalabrine, “I’m closer to LeBron than you are to me.”

And about those kids who did not get recruited: There are millions of them ascending to higher education each year. College is often depicted as a time of new beginnings, but it is also a time of vast, unprecedented endings in a teenager’s life. According to data from the NCAA, more than eight million high schoolers participate in amateur sports every year. But, of all those amateur athletes, only about half a million go on to play in college. For the most popular high school sports—basketball, American football, track and soccer—conversion rates are particularly abysmal, hovering between three and seven percent. Those are acceptance rates worse than Ivy League colleges, and they represent a fundamental hardship of modern athletics: At some point, you will be asked to quit playing the game you always have. When you peer through the statistics, you realize what you are actually seeing is hundreds and thousands of failures.

Not everybody’s breakup with highschool sports is a raw affair. For many, sports was a way to keep in touch with a certain social milieu, or to avoid taking P.E. It would be an exaggeration to say all eight million high school athletes seek to continue into the collegiate circuit. But, for a multitude of children throughout the United States, getting rejected by a college coach is the first time they are told, without a shadow of a doubt, that they cannot do something they love.

“It was such a big part of my life,” says Ashley Butler ’26, a student at Vassar and former high school soccer player. “All my friends were getting recruited, it was all we talked about.” Butler, like so many other kids in the U.S., played high-level youth sports for a very long time. At the extracurricular club she played at, getting recruited was the standard, not the exception.

“I went to a lot of these showcases where coaches [from different colleges] would line up all along the field, at the 50, at the 20 and watch us play. They knew our numbers, and they would take notes on us as we played. It was so stressful.”

In many cases, these kids have specialized into athletics quite early, forgoing many of the other extracurriculars that look attractive to admissions offices. For those who want to go to an elite college, admissions support through athletics is a way to turn all that time spent into an alma mater.

“COVID happened my sophomore year, which is a big year for recruiting. I spent a lot of time making highlight tapes, sending stats to them, but soccer is more of a sport where you have to be seen playing multiple times. It crossed my mind that, if I don’t go to one of these schools that offered me, I would have to apply as a non-athlete.”

Butler ended up getting an offer at Vassar and played soccer here for two years before leaving the team for personal reasons. She is, despite all the anxiety about her status as an athlete, a success story. But what about all the students who do not get offered? What are they to do about this competitive urge that has been fostered since they were children?

They are playing intramurals.

“Some people are just super competitive and super into it and are quick to take their frustration out [on me]. It probably stems from doing so much with these sports, playing competitively from age six all the way through high school. You take that energy and attitude to intramurals,” says Masur. The competitiveness I see on the court each Tuesday and Thursday, it seems, is residual, a product of a bunch of kids who used to play competitively having to find an outlet in something fundamentally recreational.

— — — — —

There’s a line in “Moneyball,” a 2011 movie that dramatizes the Oakland Athletic’s improbable rise to the top of the American League, that encapsulates this situation. A scout is talking to a young player drafted by the Mets, and he says: “We’re all told at some point in time that we can no longer play the children’s game, we just don’t… don’t know when that’s gonna be. Some of us are told at eighteen, some of us are told at forty, but we’re all told.”

It is easy to see the tryhards of intramural sports as the bad guys. You show up to a game, expecting to have some fun, only to get blown out or, even worse, pulled into a tense, contentious matchup with lots of elbows and hurt feelings. But, personally, I was never told I could no longer play the children’s game. I washed out of organized sports when they started having tryouts and restricting medals to winners and runner-ups. I do not understand why participants feel the need to scream in Masur’s face on the court, but I have also never felt the sting of failure these kids have. The game ended a long time ago for me. 

“I quit [varsity soccer],” says Butler, “because I fell out of love for the sport. It got to the point where it was taking so much out of me that the benefits were outweighed by the cost. I wasn’t getting better each practice.”

Intramural sports were her rebound, the setting where she learned to love the game again. Now, she says, “I get to make the choice to go and enjoy it when I want to.”

Knowing all this does not make it any easier to lose by 50 in the AFC. Towards the end of that game, I got pretty annoyed with this one kid who stayed on his side of the court, not playing defense, catching touchdown passes from his friends and banking unguarded three after unguarded three. This practice is called cherry picking, and it is generally considered bad manners, especially in a recreational league. What made it even more annoying was that the guy was absolute money from all his spots. He easily scored 25 points that night, and probably edged 30. It was ridiculous.

“That guy is good,” I remarked to a friend after the game.

“Yeah, he’s really good. He practices with the basketball team sometimes, but he didn’t make the cut.”

It’s hard to leave the game. It is even harder, I imagine, when you are the 16th man: the first one out, just not good enough for varsity. I will not condone cherry picking, but I might forgive it in this case. If it is that kid’s way of loving the game again, who am I to stop him? It is just a game. If we did not  love it, we wouldn’t play.

JOHOR BAHRU, May 25 — The Ministry of Youth and Sports (KBS) is set to revitalise the Rakan Muda initiative, first introduced in 1994, with the aim of nurturing a new generation of youth equipped with the knowledge and skills aligned with their individual passions and interests.

Ministry of Youth and Sports (KBS) Management Services Division undersecretary Richard Barahim said that plans to actively revive the Rakan Muda programme across its 10 existing focus areas were initiated in 2023, but the ministry is now intensifying efforts to implement them fully this year.

“The idea had already been conceived, but there was no suitable platform for its execution, until we identified the Madani Rakyat Programme (PMR), which proved to be a fitting avenue, especially with the increased involvement of youths,” he said.

“The implementation of PMR, organised by the Prime Minister’s Office (PMO) through the Performance Acceleration Coordination Unit (PACU), is considered comprehensive. In addition to attracting youth participation, it also brings together various ministries and government agencies,” he told reporters at the Johor PMR 2025 at Toppen Shopping Centre here today.

He added that KBS also plans to modernise the Rakan Muda by incorporating activities that align with current trends and technological advancements to ensure it remains relevant to today’s youth.

“At KBS, we want to assure the public, especially youths, that Rakan Muda is still active and very much alive. We are committed to keeping it relevant by introducing activities that reflect current interests and technological developments.

“The Rakan Muda programme encompasses a variety of focus areas, including self-reliance, environmental appreciation, entrepreneurial spirit, fitness, arts and culture, innovation, volunteerism, rural development, and community engagement,” he said.

This edition of the PMR, led by the KBS, offers a diverse lineup of activities aimed at empowering youth and graduates, including career opportunity showcases, talent discovery programmes, and eSports competitions.

Notably, this edition of the PMR coincides with the state-level National Youth Day celebration today, further amplifying the voices and potential of youth. — Bernama

ARLINGTON, Texas — The greatest athlete in the modern era now lives on YouTube, Instagram, our memories and a video game that Bo Jackson swears he has never played, but remains in boxes in his house.

Bo Jackson insists he has never played “Tecmo Bowl,” the popular late 1980s and early 1990s video game version of the NFL before “Madden” revolutionized the genre. The video game version of Bo is some code combination of Greek hero on steroids that designers would no longer create.

“I hear that a lot, but — you probably won’t believe this — but I’ve never played that game,” Jackson said Friday morning at AT&T Stadium.

Jackson was in Arlington to be inducted into the Cotton Bowl Hall of Fame for his monster day in Auburn’s loss against Texas A&M, in 1985. Bo is 62, and today doesn’t watch football or baseball, the two sports he played professionally. He watches Formula 1, and he plays golf.

“If you had to compare me to my football skills to my golf skills, people say in football I’m an All-Star,” Bo said. “In golf, I’m the water boy.”

Good to know we can all be like Bo.

It’s bittersweet to see Bo today. Not because he’s older. Or that he can unintentionally sound a little bitter about the state of the games today, but rather we will never see this type of guy again.

This age of professional, or even high major, sports would never permit a Bo Jackson to even consider doing today what he did in the 1980s. Teams would not allow, seek or encourage an ungodly talented high school baseball player who played football to pursue the professional path to both.

They would be told, “Sorry son, you got to pick one.” Bo concurs. Not for the reason you’d think.

“The talent pool is too deep,” he said. “If somebody attempted it, more than likely they would be riding the bench in both.”

Hard to imagine any world where Bo knows the bench, but that’s what he’s saying.

The expected answer was it’s because of increased specialization in youth sports that has forced a teenager to go with one, rather than both. And or a high major college team would not want to invest in a player who could potentially suffer an injury in the “offseason” while playing another sport.

“I think a parent should allow a kid to play as many sports as he or she wants, and let that kid make up their mind in junior high or high school what sport they want to pursue,” he said.

“If I was coming out of high school in 2025 … I don’t even want to think about it. No. 1, I’d probably be corrupt. NIL, big head, thinking I’m all of this and everything. I’m glad I came out when I did.”

What Bo did “back then” is inconceivable today.

Bo finished his college career at Auburn in 1985, and he played Major League Baseball from 1986-1994. He played for the Los Angeles Raiders in 1987-1990. He suffered what would essentially be a career-ending hip injury after what looked like a routine hit during the Raiders’ playoff win over the Cincinnati Bengals in 1990.

He came back from the injury to play three more years in baseball, all with the Chicago White Sox, in 1991 and 1993-94.

While Bo was Bo, Deion Sanders played Major League Baseball from 1989-2001, although not every season. His career in the NFL lasted from 1989-2005, but he did not play at all from 2001-03.

Brian Jordan played MLB from 1992-2006, and in the NFL from 1989-91.

Michael Jordan famously retired from pro basketball to pursue pro baseball, but they never overlapped.

You will notice all of these careers ended more than 20 years ago.

The last major athletes to be considered to “play both” were Oklahoma quarterback/outfielder Kyler Murray, and Texas Tech quarterback/pitcher Patrick Mahomes.

A reason why so many college football programs did not pursue Mahomes was they thought he would do what his father did and pursue a career in baseball. Mahomes opted to play football at Texas Tech, but his baseball career was over.

Murray was a standout player for the Sooners baseball team, and he was the ninth overall pick in the 2018 MLB draft by the Oakland A’s. His passion was football, and once he was the No. 1 pick of the Arizona Cardinals, his baseball career was over.

Had they played in the 1980s, maybe they would have been allowed to pursue a career in both.

For the generation who watched Bo, or Deion, we all recognized what we were watching. We just did not know we were watching endangered species.

Maybe the Dinosaur will return, and there will be another Bo in the future. The one person who isn’t worrying about it is Bo himself. He’s satisfied with a legacy where the name “Bo” covers it all.

“I’ve had people ask, ‘Aren’t you the guy that did both sports?’ ” he said. “I said, ‘I don’t know. I don’t know. Go do your homework.’ “

And when you complete your homework, just know it’s true.