Not so long ago, Amobi Okoye had the grasp on football that Britney Spears has on adulthood. Clueless. He didn't know a touchdown was worth six points or that you had four downs to gain 10 yards. Okoye was stronger than most of his fellow ninth-graders, but his youthfulness overshadowed his brawn.
"In the weight room, he sometimes would make funny sounds," recalls David O'Connor, Okoye's coach at Lee High School in Huntsville, Ala. "His grunts were not mature yet. He made more of a squeaking sound."
It was the spring of 2000 and Okoye was 12. He had moved with his family from Nigeria just a few months earlier. He had run track in elementary school and had played soccer recreationally, but his only exposure to football was film clips he had seen on TV.
"In the weight room, he sometimes would make funny sounds," recalls David O'Connor, Okoye's coach at Lee High School in Huntsville, Ala. "His grunts were not mature yet. He made more of a squeaking sound."
It was the spring of 2000 and Okoye was 12. He had moved with his family from Nigeria just a few months earlier. He had run track in elementary school and had played soccer recreationally, but his only exposure to football was film clips he had seen on TV.
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