DRAFT PREVIEW20
22
the mid-morning St. Patrick’s Day activity. The pass rusher
from Oregon acknowledges a fan shouting “Go Ducks!” as
his workout begins. He lunges, jumps and sprints, training
for the upcoming NFL draft underneath a cloudless sky,
sand f lying from feet. “It feels like it has been two years,”
he tells a friend. “But it has only been eight weeks.”
Thibodeaux means the draft prep, the ever-intensifying
microscope hovering overhead and the criticism lobbed his
way. Once the top-ranked player in the 2019 class of college
football recruits, the presumption through the fall was he
would go first in the ’22 draft. But as draft season unfolds,
nebulous criticisms threaten to nudge him down draft boards.
Doesn’t work hard enough, they’ll say; or, too many outside
interests. But the eight weeks of toiling weren’t about prov-
ing “them” wrong. They were about proving himself right.
Everyone around him wants something, either from
Thibodeaux or for him. What he wants is to speak for himself,
through a day in Los Angeles stuffed with words, workouts
and meetings.
Away from the beach, Thibodeaux climbs into a black
Mercedes sedan. He’s steering through L.A., toward a res-
taurant with the perfect name: My 2 Cents. Why were those
eight weeks so draining? The constant grind, he says, so
many obligations, all the meetings and interviews and film
shoots. “All the stuff that has nothing to do with football.”
Thibodeaux sees a disconnect between how the public might
view him this spring and how he believes NFL teams inter-
pret his pro potential.
“The outside world has no real idea,” he says. The mistake,
as he sees it, is comparing him with established norms. He’s
a defensive lineman, so he’s supposed to be less intelligent,
per the stereotype. He grew up in South Central, so he’s not
supposed to believe he will be a billionaire—and soon. Because
he’s a football player, why should he do everything else, from
chess to branding to books to operating a foundation at 21?
“Might as well give them something to talk about,” he says.
There’s a point to all this. And that point is to answer a
question that’s central to his future: How does a superstar
athlete wrest back control of his own story?SOMETHING TO TALK about doubles as a life summary.
Before Thibodeaux dreamt big, he simply was big, even by
the hefty standard of football linemen. At 6' 3" in sixth grade,
he was routinely mistaken for an adult, needed to bring
his birth certificate to youth football games and couldn’t
fit under school desks for earthquake drills. Every time he
entered a room, he could feel eyeballs lingering on his frame,
wondering what to make of him. At f irst, the stares made him
anxious. But eventually he changed his mindset, deciding
to use his size as an advantage, adopting a commanding
presence and growing comfortable with himself.His lofty gridiron aims began with Super Bowl XLVII, held
on the night the power went out in the Superdome in 2013.
A sideline camera captured linebacker Ray Lewis rallying
the Ravens. Even though Thibodeaux was 12, he recognized
Lewis “speaking words and life into his teammates,” as the
speech helped vault Baltimore over San Francisco. “I felt
that through the screen,” he says. That’s who I want to be,
he thought.Thibodeaux arrived at a resolution: He alone would
define himself. Like when he transferred high schools
twice in Southern California, eventually enrolling at tony
Oaks Christian, where classes once included the offspring of
famous athletes like Wayne Gretzky and Joe Montana. Others
could posit that he switched for football. He really went for
academics, at the urging of his mother, Shawnta Loice. He
maintained a 3.8 GPA and aced AP classes.
Thibodeaux navigated his new life through careful, deliber-
ate action. He wanted to build on his parents’ strength—espe-
cially their adaptability, or “being good on the f ly.” MacGyver
is what he called his father, Angelo Thibodeaux, the dad who
could fix anything from air conditioners to car engines. But
rather than f ixing along the way, Kay von wanted to navigate
his life through intention, the map of his future all laid out.
“The only person I know that didn’t struggle without a plan
was Columbus,” he says, laughing. “I don’t think there’s any
more uncharted land. [Life] is knowing where to go and having
a purpose.” Hence why he’s bothered by slow drivers inch-
ing along in the fast lane. Don’t they have somewhere to be?
Thibodeaux hated the transition from South Central to
Westlake Village, a drive of only 43 miles that felt like a trip
into another universe. But he had that plan to execute. He
wanted to think strategically, so he picked up chess and went
to Venice Beach to take on older experts. He wanted to excel
at football, so he left home every morning at 3:45 to drive
to the gym, adding thousands of miles to the odometer of
his black Mustang. He sought out mentors like gym owner
Travelle Gaines, Oaks Christian football coach Charlie Collins
and retired NFL linebacker Willie McGinest.42 SPORTS ILLUSTRATED
“I don’t know who these ‘experts’
are,” says Cristobal, who also
coached Justin Herbert
and Penei Sewell.“KT CAN BE
AS GOOD AS
THOSE GUYS.”