Brian Price’s older brothers always pushed him to play football.
They taught him to be strong. They taught him loyalty. Their words echo in his head to this day.
You gotta be a man of your word. If you say you’re going to do something, do it. Anybody can say something.
Damon and Eddie Price never got to see him play.
Brian, a 6-foot-2-inch 300-pound sophomore defensive tackle for the Bruins, is now one of the most talented players at his position in the country.
His brothers never saw him on the field. Not for one down.
“They were trying to turn their lives around,” Brian said. “But once you’re in the streets, you’re in there.
“My brother, Eddie, he got killed walking his girl to the bus stop at night. These dudes were harassing her so she wanted to call her mom. So he walked her down to the phone booth and some dudes pulled up and Eddie stood up for her. They got out and shot him and killed him. She’s paralyzed, but she’s still alive. He died for her.”
That was in 1998 before Brian ever knew he’d be the one his family would rely on. The one his family would need to pull them up.
Without warning, five years later, the streets of Crenshaw would suddenly leave him as his parents’ only son.
Damon had gotten out of a jail a couple years prior to that night in 2003 and was trying to turn his life around. He was starting a record label and leaving the studio one night, driving down Crenshaw Boulevard when an argument erupted in the car. His best friend in the back seat pulled a gun and started shooting, killing Damon and another passenger.
“He got killed by his friend, his best friend,” Brian said. “It’s just crazy knowing that because the dude that killed him, he used to be in our house every day just chilling. I considered him a brother.”
Damon was 24. Eddie was 18. Their murders stay in the back of Brian’s mind all the time.
“I use that as motivation, and knowing I’m my mom and dad’s only son, I got something to live up to but I gotta stay safe and make wise decisions,” he said. “That keeps me motivated. I know I got mouths to feed. I gotta feed my family. I gotta help out so I can’t screw around. I gotta take everything serious.”
His brothers’ murders changed Brian. He was just nine years old when Eddie was killed. He grew shy, didn’t talk and didn’t know how to handle the harsh reality of what had happened.
“The morning after Eddie was killed, he was holding a football in his arms and crying,” his father, Frank Price said. “It put him in a shell. He got more reserved. He didn’t want to communicate. He clammed up. He didn’t know how to deal with it.”
Frank sees how the tragedies have shaped Brian’s life, growing up in a Crenshaw culture known for its street violence.
“Things happen when kids carry guns, when kids do drugs,” Frank said. “Most people watch it on television but these kids live it. There’s no more shelter.
“In our community, we have black versus brown ““ it’s a fight for territory. The crazy thing is, you’ve got idiots fighting over turf where they own nothing. They’re fighting and dying over it and it means nothing.”
When Damon was killed, Brian was 14 and starting high school as a freshman. His grades started dropping and his football career might never have started. Fortunately, one Crenshaw football coach noticed the changes in Brian and sat down with Frank and his son to get things straight.
“Brian was a distracted student,” Frank said. “He was hurting and didn’t know how to vent … He could’ve flunked out.”
His brothers’ murders were not his only distractions. Frank recalled Crenshaw football games interrupted by local gunfire, forcing everyone to dive to the ground.
It was not a common occurrence but illustrates the environment his son survived. Though some people may see Brian’s journey to UCLA as beating the odds, Frank knows different.
“We don’t look at it like we’re victims,” Frank said. “He had what he needed to survive. Kids that don’t survive, they were missing something. For Brian, it wasn’t a role of the dice.”
Many people ““ coaches, teachers, friends and family ““ have been involved in Brian’s development into the person he has become. But the fear of failure is powerful.
“With all of that pressure, it’s kind of like his biggest fear is not succeeding, not being able to provide for your family,” said one of Brian’s best friends, redshirt junior linebacker Reggie Carter. “That’s a fear that we all fear. I think it makes us work a little harder every day.”
The pressure on Brian to succeed ““ to graduate from school, make it to the NFL and provide for his mom and six sisters ““ is immense.
He has no choice but to succeed and he knows it.
“The world hits you with so many things,” Brian said. “What’re you going to do? Are you going to fall or are you going to stand up? It ain’t about how hard you can get hit. It’s about how hard you can get hit and get back up.”
Getting back up after his brothers’ murders threatened to tear his life apart, is exactly what he has done. Using football as his opportunity to take care of his family in the future, Brian has stayed away from the pitfalls that he knows are out there.
“I stay around people that have the same goal as me, got the same dream as me,” Brian said. “I don’t want to hang around nobody that got no expectations in life and don’t want to be nothing. I want to hang around dudes that want to make it to the next level, want to do something with their life.”
One of his best friends, redshirt senior Brigham Harwell, knows that Brian’s development as a football player and as a person is no accident. As soon as Brian stepped onto campus as a freshman, Harwell made it a point to take him under his wing. Now they’re battery mates as starting defensive tackles on the field, with their lockers always next to each other.
“He could’ve been in the streets, or could’ve done drugs or could’ve been a gangbanger,” Harwell said. “But he made the right decisions. It’s all about decision-making. He didn’t follow the footsteps and become a statistic of being black and joining a gang where he’s from. He did a great thing. He kept his mind on right and kept focused.
“Anyone else could’ve folded and gave up on life but he kept pushing.”
Carter is also part of Brian’s close group of friends that keep him focused. Carter played football for two years with Brian at Crenshaw High School and played for Brian’s father who coaches there.
Carter, whose own father was shot and killed when he was two years old, shares similar struggles with the sophomore but sees their sobering connection as a strength.
“It’s made him stronger,” Carter said. “Because dealing with that, I mean, that’s real. I lost my father at a young age but to lose two brothers, it’s rough. You wonder what life would be like with them here but they’re not here. You’re fighting the fight by yourself.”
There is no doubt that Brian has drawn strength from his past and has used it to his advantage on the football field. Nicknamed “Quiet Storm” by his father for his calm demeanor but on-field intensity, he has established himself as a playmaking defensive tackle with huge potential for an NFL future.
As a freshman last fall, Brian became a starter by the end of the season despite missing the first three games due to confusion over his academic eligibility. He recorded second-team Freshman All-America honors as well as making the Pac-10 All-Freshman team.
This season, Brian has established himself as one of the top tackles in the conference, even contributing occasionally on offense as a fullback.
Defensive coordinator DeWayne Walker knows that that success for Brian both on the field and in the classroom ““ he’ll be the first to graduate college in his family ““ ensures that someday he’ll be able to take care of the people he loves.
“He’s gone through some things that people don’t go through,” Walker said. “I just think he has a goal. I know he wants to help his family. I know he wants to help himself. When he has his quiet moments, I’m sure those experiences really drive him to do the things he wants to accomplish in life.
“This is a special kid. He really is. If everything goes as planned, he’s going to be very successful.”
Brian’s struggle is something that will never leave him, as he knows better than anybody ““ failure is simply not an option. Too much is at stake.
“In my head, I will not be denied,” Brian said. “You’re not going to stop me from getting where I need to be. I just keep pushing.
“I will not be denied.”