King grew up in Macon, Georgia, and like a lot of kids his initial attraction to football was visual. He now lives an hour’s drive away from where he plays and practices with his team—a distance he chose so that he can decompress before he gets home—and he told me the story of his childhood as we sat on the sofa in his underfurnished Bay Area apartment. In middle school, he would watch one of his mom’s friend’s sons play football and admire the uniforms and the shiny helmets. His mother, concerned about injuries and academics, would not yet let him play, but King began training on his own, doing two-mile runs around his neighborhood with dreams of being a receiver. Two years later, he made his high-school team—and quickly decided that after-school practices and position-specific training were not enough to fill his insistent appetite for improvement. Weekend days were spent walking around his neighborhood with a football and a set of cones that he could use to practice receiving routes. He tried to get quarterbacks, receivers, and other teammates to join him for these extra sessions, but he found that most kids, even the athletes, preferred to spend their free time watching TV or playing video games.
When he got bored, he would kick, and he soon became fond of watching the ball rocket off of his foot and into the air. He began to challenge himself. Could he kick it over this ditch? Could he kick it over this tree? He got his parents to measure how long he could keep the ball in the air. He didn’t know yet about hang time and drop technique. He wasn’t thinking of it as a potential career. He just liked being really good at it, and getting better. He experimented with different techniques. One day, he said, not long after he began kicking, he was playing football with friends and a pass was thrown way out of bounds. King went to retrieve it, but instead of throwing it back, he kicked it. “Damn!” came the response. “Do that shit again!” Eventually the game devolved into neighborhood kids just trying to field King’s explosive punts.
A new coach took over his team during junior year, and King told him about his kicking. The coach made him the team’s kicker, though King continued to play receiver as well. During his senior year, a friend mentioned offhandedly that he could get paid to kick. King says he legitimately thought the guy was making fun of him. After high school, he went to Fort Valley State, a small historically black college thirty miles from home. He didn’t play at all in his freshman year, and had trouble finding time for himself at receiver, competing against more skilled players at the position. Eventually he was told flat out by the coaching staff that if he wanted to keep his scholarship, he had to kick.