Tyrone Davidson jr '25 Recruiting Profile

Ever since I became aware of life at three years old, I learned that it wouldn’t be easy. That was the year I lost my mother in a tragic accident—a moment that altered everything. With her gone, my father turned to alcohol and drugs, desperately trying to escape the pain and responsibilities. It left my brothers and me in a chaotic, fragile world, one where I grew up much too quickly. We bounced from place to place, school to school, never staying long enough to make friends or feel grounded. I went to four different middle schools, constantly trying to catch up, to fit in, and to learn. Yet, even as a kid, I held onto hope, striving to show my brothers that we could be different—that we didn’t have to follow our father’s path.

But my father’s addiction deepened, and with it, the violence. The breaking point came on my thirteenth birthday, a day no one should ever have to remember with pain. He came home drunk, angry, and filled with threats. When I tried to leave with my stepmother and cousin, he hit me so hard my jaw broke. That night, I made the decision to ask my stepmother if we could live with her. For the first time, my brothers and I had a stable home. We had food, clothes, and a safe place to sleep. But that sense of peace was short-lived. Due to legal custody, we had to return to my father, and the cycle of fear and instability resumed. There were days we didn’t know where our next meal would come from; nights he’d disappear for days, leaving us alone in an empty house. My brothers would look at me with hungry eyes, asking, “Big bro, can you get us food?” Their voices were a reminder that I had to do something, anything, to provide for them.

At one point, I even considered selling drugs, thinking it was the only way to help. But my aunt stepped in, guiding me toward something better. She suggested I sell candy at school, and it was enough to get by. Selling candy gave me the means to feed my brothers and buy the basics we needed. It wasn’t glamorous, but it kept us going. I started high school and faced more challenges, enrolling in five different schools. Adjusting to new teachers and subjects was overwhelming, yet I managed to maintain a 3.4 GPA throughout my freshman, sophomore and junior years of high school.

Eventually, I told my aunt that I couldn’t return to my father’s home. She supported my decision and worked to make our lives better, even helping us get Social Security checks so we could finally provide for ourselves without fear of him using the money for his addictions. It was a relief knowing I had done something right for my brothers. My aunt even bought a house, a true home where we could feel secure and experience the stability every child deserves.

Now, at Wasco Union High School, I have a high GPA and the chance to shine in sports. I’m preparing to go to college, aiming to study chemical engineering at a top school. My dream is to build a future where I can support my family and, one day, give my brothers a life free from fear and hardship. I want them to see that despite where we came from, we can rise above it.