From Arkansas to L.A.’s Spotlight: Austin Reaves Takes the Helm of the New Lakers
The road to the NBA for Austin Reaves started in the back of a dented, hand-me-down 2008 Cadillac Escalade. Back in high school in Newark, Arkansas, Reaves and his teammates squeezed into the SUV, a tradition that showed his early knack for bringing people together. It was a small-town bond, built over home-cooked pregame meals of Hamburger Helper and grilled cheese, hosted by his grandmother, Frieda Wilkett. Those meals weren’t just about food; they were about making sure every kid on the Cedar Ridge High School team felt valued and part of the family.
That family-first mentality stuck with Reaves. Even when he suffered a severe shoulder injury—a torn labrum requiring surgery—during his senior year of high school, he refused to sit out. He played through the pain, dislocating his shoulder again during a tournament, just so he could share one final championship run with his older brother, Spencer. That drive, that selflessness, earned him a word inscribed on his championship ring: “Selfless.”
Fast forward to today, and the picture has changed completely. LeBron James is gone, playing his final years in Philadelphia. Luka Doncic is the franchise centerpiece. And Austin Reaves, the self-proclaimed “hillbilly” from Arkansas, is now the longest-tenured player on the Lakers roster, holding a four-year, $180 million contract. The expectations are higher than ever. He is no longer the third wheel; he is a co-pilot, tasked with guiding a locker room filled with new faces.
Reaves isn’t going to lead by screaming in the locker room or throwing wild speeches. He leads the way he always has: by example. He shows up early, works his tail off in the gym, and prefers one-on-one chats with younger players like Adou Thiero, just as Rajon Rondo once guided him during his rookie year. Lakers coach JJ Redick expects everyone to step up, and Reaves knows his voice carries weight now. But he stays true to himself.
For Reaves, none of the fame, the money, or the shoe deals matter if the team doesn’t win. “Winning is more important than anything else,” he says plainly. It’s a lesson learned on the hardwood floors of Cedar Ridge, where caring about the person next to you meant doing whatever it took to get the job done. Now, he’s ready to bring that same fire to the Lakers’ quest for a championship.
