The Young Man In Orange

I'm worried.

Do I address him as "Mario?" Perhaps "Rio" is reserved for teammates and coaches and "Mario" is how he wants the media to address him? It's always a tricky thing when the SIDs ask the freshmen and transfers how their name should appear on the official roster.

Some kids think they have to put their full name on the roster but they'd prefer the name that everyone uses. Some just put their nickname on the sheet when their family would prefer to see their full name up on the scoreboard. Jartavius or Quan? Jer'Zhan or Johnny? Every Friday night, every television crew meets with every staff to see if a kid prefers to go by "Mario" or "Rio." It's important that the kid gets to choose.

In the documentary, no one called him Mario. He was "Rio" to teammates, coaches, and family. His best friend in the documentary (and in real life, of course), De'Meiko Anderson, is "Meiko" to everyone. Choice of name is important – I'm a Robert who has gone by Bobby, Bob, and Robert in his life, sometimes switching based on the formality of the moment – so I always want to make sure I'm choosing the right one. Here, I'm going with Mario.

Mario sits down across from me at a table in the media area of the Smith Center and we shake hands. I introduce myself as Robert, he introduces himself as Mario, so that's already out of the way. I press record. I've been wanting to sit down with him for weeks, ever since watching a documentary where he was a central figure, but it's difficult to schedule an interview like this during training camp. Their days are often planned out down to the minute.

Mario Sanders II, if you're unaware, is a first-year wide receiver from Minneapolis via Iowa Central Community College. He arrived on campus in January and enrolled early after an NJCAA 1st Team All American season at Iowa Central. But I didn't ask for this sit-down interview because of Iowa Central. I asked because of Minneapolis North.

In the fall of 2021, filmmaker Peter Berg (Friday Night Lights) filmed a documentary on the Minneapolis North high school football team. Released in 2023, the Showtime documentary is called Boys In Blue (you can watch tonight if you have Paramount+). Berg chose perhaps the perfect subject to document the start of this decade in the United States: A high school football team, in Minneapolis, with a coaching staff made up of nearly all police officers, face their first full football season post-Covid during the vote to de-fund the Minneapolis Police Department after the murder conviction earlier that year of Derek Chauvin for killing George Floyd in May of 2020.

It's a heavy topic to be sure, and this could spin off in several directions, but I think I know how to keep the focus on Mario and his teammates. The Minneapolis North players recite a prayer (poem?) before and after games. It is used in nearly every episode of the documentary. It's a call and response, either led by a coach or a team captain. The verses:

Dear Lord the battles we go through life
We ask for a chance that’s fair
A chance to equal our stride
A chance to do or dare

If we should win, let it be by the code
Faith and honor held high
If we should lose, we stand by the road
And cheer as the winners go by

Day by day
We get better and better
Until we can’t be beat
Won’t be beat

There's our path. Stay with me, will you?

Dear Lord the battles we go through life
We ask for a chance that’s fair

The Minneapolis North football team had gone 8-0 during the Covid-shortened 2020 season before the playoffs were abruptly canceled that November due to a rise in Covid cases. So there was that angle for this documentary at the start. Minneapolis North was robbed of going to US Bank Stadium for a shot at a state title in 2020 but 2021 could be their redemption (although many seniors had graduated).

There was also a very fascinating look at the "defund the police" movement throughout all four episodes. They filmed everything from rallies (on both sides of the debate) to candidate debates to arguments in barbershops. And all while one high school team grappled with their coaches possibly losing their jobs if the vote removes the police department forces their coaches move away from the community to look for other police work. You're watching it all play out episode to episode, so it's quite gripping. Debates about the shooting of Daunte Wright by a police officer who thought she drew her taser are happening in real time as the documentary moves forward.

But to tell this story – to tell Mario's story – I'm also going to have "spoil" the documentary for those who have not watched it. I put spoil in quotation marks because it's not really a spoiler. It's quite possible you were aware of this news story when it happened. But I have to share these details before we can discuss the rest.

In February of 2022, four days after the documentary crew had filmed Minneapolis North sophomore quarterback Deshaun Hill Jr. on a date with his girlfriend, Hill was shot and killed walking to the bus stop near the school. Three full episodes discussing the violence in the neighborhood, the players' hopes and dreams that football will get them away from the violence (including a full-on debate about whether the police department has helped or possibly harmed the fight against such violence), and then one of the main subjects you got to know – one of Mario's friends – is killed in completely random shooting.

The story is so heartbreaking I barely want to type it out. A 31 year-old man named Cody Fohrenkam, upset after being robbed at a local market earlier that day, is storming around the neighborhood with a gun looking for the assailants. And as he passes by the store again, it's believed he brushed shoulders with Deshaun Hill, just a 15 year-old kid walking to the bus stop. Apparently offended by the shoulder bump, Fohrenkam pulls out a gun and shoots the kid dead.

(Fohrenkam was convicted of 2nd degree murder after jurors deliberated for less than an hour in early 2023. But in May of this year, that conviction was overturned by the Minnesota Court of Appeals. Witnesses had identified Fohrenkam, and when police had gone to question him about the murder, he was being detained in a different county on a separate charge. His attorneys successfully argued that since he had technically gained his release in the other county on the other charge (the paperwork had just come through), any statements he made at that jail about the Hill murder should have been inadmissible in court. The Court of Appeals threw out the conviction and ordered a new trial. The next step is either an appeal to the Minnesota Supreme Court to uphold the conviction or a new trial.)

This final episode is perhaps the most moving episode of any documentary I've ever watched. The full documentary focuses on several players and their families: Mario (Rio), De'Meiko (Meiko), Cashmere (Cash), Tae-Zhan (Tae), and Deshaun (D. Hill). You get to know their lives. You hear their words about the violence around them. And then one of them is killed while the documentary is still being filmed.

I feel like the words of director/producer Peter Berg from this interview say it best:

"The first scene of the film is a scene in Deshaun Hill’s living room, and Tuesday (his mother) is talking to us about her biggest fear, that her son is going to be killed leaving school, going to the bus stop. I truly did not appreciate the fact that what she was saying to us was: 'Help. Will somebody please help? This is fucking real. This is not a joke. I’m telling you I’m scared my son’s going to get killed walking to the bus.' Well, her son was killed walking to the bus. After that happened, my understanding of how dangerous life is for young men in so many parts of this country hit me much, much harder."

It's so true. It's so heartbreaking. The moment you see the news reports of his death while watching the documentary, you immediately think "his mom just said how frightened she was of this exact scenario." Shame on me for brushing it off so quickly in episode one.

And I can't imagine the pain of his teammates when they found out. Mario told me that as rumors started to spread, no one wanted to believe it until one of his teammates shared a photo from social media that showed the victim on the ground wearing a walking boot. D. Hill was recovering from an ankle injury, and they knew that gray boot, so they knew it was him.

Can you imagine? These boys, every day, vocalize their desire for a chance that's fair. And then they stare at a social media photo of a familiar walking boot and realize that yes, their friend is dead.

I asked Mario if he was OK discussing the subject, and he said yes. He was very open about it, coming back to the same point over and over:

"Getting that call, going up to the school with all the guys... in the moment it was just crazy. To this day, I don't think I will ever get over it. How it happened, when it happened, who it happened to... I'll never get over it."

You have the heartbreaking background now. It's time we hear more from Mario.

A chance to equal our stride
A chance to do or dare

If there was anyone who equaled D. Hill's stride during the 2021 Minneapolis North season, it was Mario. Mario had played quarterback in the past, but that season, with the sophomore Hill ready to take over, Mario (and Meiko) became his receivers. And his biggest supporters.

Then, when Hill sustained the ankle injury, Mario had to switch to quarterback for the rest of the season. You could sense that the two were close when watching the documentary, so I asked Mario to describe him to me.

"He was always happy. He was real chill and he never caused any problems. You know, anytime you would see him, he was smiling, shake your hand, give you a hug, whatever it was. Even on the field he was real quiet. But just the vibe he brought, it was just always good energy and smiles."

I was glad he said that. It's what made the documentary so compelling (and so heartbreaking). This was not some kid out looking for trouble. He clearly had a soft side. A devastating athlete on the field but a quiet leader off. Even in the scene with his girlfriend at the restaurant, you can tell she's trying to draw the shyness out of him.

Mario continued. "Just knowing his parents and stuff like that, how much they cared for him, his siblings, and all aunties and uncles and all that type of stuff..." His voice trails off as he visibly deals with the disbelief again. And then he reiterates what he said at the start: "I'll never get over it."

I didn't want to just talk about that subject with Mario. I didn't want him to think I had asked for an interview just to talk about one of the worst days of his life. I wanted to talk about his journey from Minneapolis North to Champaign (with a detour in Fort Dodge, Iowa).

In our discussions about D. Hill and the 2021 season prior to Hill's death, there was something that went unsaid. Hill's injury that season meant that Sanders would not be able to assemble wide receiver game film to send to colleges. His team would need him at quarterback.

We discussed that when talking about the distractions of the season. Not only does the vote to defund the police loom over the neighborhood and dominate every conversation, these kids are being filmed every day by a documentary crew. He's trying to earn a college scholarship and all of that is happening in the background. I asked him how he could even focus on football.

"That was, like, the main thing, trying to stay focused with all of that going on." I see my opportunity to ask him about playing QB while trying to accumulate wide receiver film. "And then you have to play quarterback", I offered.

"Yeah. You could see in the episode against Southwest, he got hurt, and I knew exactly then that I was going to have to move to quarterback."

I pressed in. "And that was going to hurt your college scholarship chances." He knew his answer before I finished speaking.

"Helping my team out was more important. We didn't really have anybody else to play quarterback, so, I mean, I had to do it."

A chance to do or dare and chase that scholarship? Not this time. This was a chance to switch positions and help the team. The wide receiver scholarship can come later.

If we should win, let it be by the code
Faith and honor held high

"The code" really struck me when watching this documentary. Maybe football is a ticket to a better life, maybe it's not, but "honor held high" was a hallmark of this program. Regardless of where life takes these kids, their coaches believed that "faith and honor held high" will push them forward.

With Mario, though, you could tell, right from the start of the documentary, that his focus was to use his football talents to open doors that might not be open to a kid from Minneapolis North High School. And Peter Berg gets right to it in the first episode. The first time you meet Mario's family in that episode, his mother says this to him:

"This is so important. All these colleges looking at you? We need the big colleges."

Some may react poorly to that, perhaps seeing a mother putting too much pressure on her son. But the scene doesn't play out like that. It's very matter of fact. There's an opportunity here, son. Swing the door as wide as it will go.

This was the main reason I wanted to sit down with Mario. In the fall of 2021, in his house, talking to his mom, she just comes out and says "we need the big colleges." The season plays out, he has to play quarterback, he ends up going to junior college, yet "we need the big colleges" still looms out there.

And I mean LOOMS out there. Just think if, no matter what your chosen career path, there's a documentary on Showtime of your journey in high school. And in the final episode, at the end, these words are on the screen:

I've watched every season of Last Chance U (as has Mario, he said). I've seen a lot of junior college players say "I plan to transfer to a Division I school" yet the majority never get there. So this looms out there the entire time you're watching the documentary. A couple guys on the team got Division III scholarships, and Meiko got a low-major D-I basketball scholarship, but the hope for "making it" was placed squarely on Mario's shoulders.

So I had to ask him. Now that he's here, sitting in the Smith Center, a full semester under his belt, having made it all the way to the Big Ten, what's it like to accomplish your biggest goal? He gave a long answer but didn't seem to want to bite:

"The talks I've had with my parents, you know, they really get deep. Starting when we were younger playing flag football, up to little league tackle football, all the way up to, I mean, middle school, high school, just talks with my parents about getting to the big stage and things like that.

"And then, you know, my senior year I happened to play quarterback, so that really didn't help out a lot. There were schools looking at me as an athlete. I wasn't sure what I was going to do. Until, really, the end of the summer. Iowa Central was one of the schools to reach out to me. They communicated with me more than any other school, really. So I ended up heading down there.

"When I first went, it was kind of weird getting adjusted to it, leaving my parents, you know, my home for the first time. And then, with Covid happening, there were still players there from two or three years ago. They all got an extra year. I would have played, but not so much, and I didn't want to waste a year (of eligibility). So that year I ended up redshirting. And then, the year after that, that was my year to, you know, show what I could really do."

Show what he could do indeed. Mario was a 1st-team Juco All American last fall. But that wasn't what I was focused on after his long answer. I couldn't help thinking about how he has had to face every single thing the 2020's could throw at him:

George Floyd happened in his community (to his community). His high school coaches would go from practice to work the protests. Covid took away the state playoffs his junior year. An injury to a teammate – a teammate who would then be murdered in February of Mario's senior year – took away his opportunity to put together wide receiver film. Covid prevented all college visits so he didn't make his college choice until the summer before his freshman year. And then, when he gets to junior college, all of the players who should have just graduated after their second season were given an extra year of eligibility because of Covid so he took a redshirt to wait his turn.

Sure, he recited the words "faith and honor held high" at every practice, but how could his faith not be tested here? How is it that this young man faced all of that and still made it?

If we should lose, we stand by the road
And cheer as the winners go by

I have an answer to my rhetorical question above. How did Mario Sanders face all of that and still make it? I think the answer is Meiko.

Picture your best friend in high school. Maybe it's the same best friend in grade school, middle school, and high school. Now picture trying to get through everything I just listed in that long paragraph without that best friend by your side. Those friendships are so vital during that phase of life. Someone to walk arm-in-arm.

For Mario, that friend is De'Meiko Anderson. Meiko. And you just saw him play in the State Farm Center last season. As I noted above, one of Mario's teammates got a D-I basketball scholarship. Meiko accepted an offer from the school across the state where Brad Underwood developed his admiration for the Illini basketball job: Western Illinois. When the Illini played WIU last November, Meiko played six minutes (no points, one rebound).

If you've watched the Boys In Blue documentary, you know that Mario and Meiko are extremely tight. So much so that everyone thinks they're brothers. One major theme of the documentary is that Mario and Meiko are each others' biggest motivation to make something of their athletic careers. I asked him about how they were portrayed in the documentary:

"Yeah, that's real. I don't even know how much I could say, how close we are, because there are times where I'll go somewhere, there'll be random little kids, or even people we know, they see me, they ask for Meiko, if they see Meiko, they ask 'where's Rio?'. It was like anytime they see Meiko, they expect to see me, or if they see me, they expect to see Meiko. No matter where we went. It could be a basketball tournament, football game, or a dinner or something like that.

"Even teachers, going back to visit the school, there's times when Meiko went back to visit, and there was teachers calling me off his phone, asking where I'm at. But, you know, we were playing two different sports, so we're back at home at two different times. It was kind of hard for us to get back at the same time."

There's a famous scene in the documentary – I saw it referenced in every review I read – where Mario and Meiko are leaning up against the hood of a car in the parking lot of a bowling alley, answering questions from the producers. And while Mario is speaking, gunshots ring out in the neighborhood. The producer interrupts Mario and Meiko with "were those gunshots just now?" And they shrugged it off as commonplace. I asked him about that scene.

"If we grow up around it, it just doesn't startle us. I mean, when it's someone around you or someone you know, a brother, someone gets killed or something like that, it's different. After that, hearing the shots, okay, you have a reaction. There's crime watch pages we could go check and see what's going on and things like that, but hearing the shots, it's not so much of an 'oh my god', like, dropping down so fast reaction.

"Obviously if it happens to one of our brothers that's gonna touch us. Like I said, I'll never get over the D-Hill thing. Or, like, with Cash getting shot, even though he was okay, that's still, like I said, not okay. Just because he was okay doesn't mean it was okay."

I forgot to mention that part. A year after D. Hill was murdered, one of the other five players who was featured in Boys In Blue, Cash, was shot in the leg three times. He survived. This fall he'll be playing football at Morehouse College in Atlanta.

Mario went on to talk about how all of the players from that 2021 season still have the same group chat going. And they've left D. Hill's number in the chat. He also noted how the background on his phone is a photo of D. Hill and that's he's always at the center of the conversations in the chat.

And then he brought it back around to Meiko. I had noted earlier that I had seen an Instagram post from Meiko saying that he was entering the transfer portal and leaving Western Illinois. Mario let me know he had chosen a juco basketball program in Florida and was then hoping to catch the eye of a high major coach, just like Mario had done at Iowa Central.

He said that they still talk "almost every day" and, just like they had been doing since they were little kids, they continually motivate each other to keep going. He mentioned that they focus on "ain't done yet" and how they have to keep proving themselves day in, day out. And he speaks about it in such a selfless manner (I'm guessing Meiko does the same). It sounds like they'd both prefer that the other one get his dream; they can simply cheer as the winner goes by.

I had brought my laptop with me, and I told Mario that I wanted to show him something if he hadn't already seen it. The football account had released this video the day before of Mario catching a long bomb at practice. And when I had gone to check Meiko's Instagram before my interview (to see if he had shared his college choice), I saw that the only video on Meiko's Instagram Story was that video of Mario catching the long pass. I showed Meiko's Instagram Story to Mario and asked him how it made him feel.

To my surprise (but to his credit), he reacted as if it was expected. Like, of course Meiko shared that with his followers. That's his brother for life. He did say how it felt good, but he brought it all back to how that pushes him and drives him because he's not there yet.

That right there told me everything I needed to know about Mario Sanders II. He's as grounded a player as I've ever interviewed. His focus is pure. With every "it has to feel great to have all of the bells and whistles of this $80 million football facility at your disposal" question I asked, he responded with some form of "not there yet." The compliments I paid him seemed to be returned-to-sender with a "not just yet" stamp. The most his eyes lit up the entire interview? When I mentioned that Meiko was trying to follow the same "juco to high major" path as him.

And then it hit me. Reciting that prayer every day really hit home for Mario. What a great thing for that coach to teach those kids. I'm trying to ask my "boy in blue turns into a man in orange and blue" questions, suggesting that the meals and the trainers and the bowling alley attached to the locker room equals having "made it", but Mario wasn't having it. Not there yet. Not there yet.

What could possibly keep a kid like that so centered? What lesson did he learn growing up that made him such a humble and focused student athlete at Illinois? His mom was focused on "the big colleges", and now he's a scholarship athlete in the B1G, so what keeps him from celebrating it?

I haven't finished the prayer yet.

Day by day
We get better and better
Until we can’t be beat
Won’t be beat