As camp fights heat up, Alabama’s rising star 242-pound running back addresses comparisons to Derrick Henry.
The sun beats down on the practice fields in Tuscaloosa as Alabama’s fall camp roars into full gear. Sweat-soaked jerseys, the crunch of shoulder pads, and the shouts of coaches echo in the humid Southern air, a familiar rhythm this time of year. As always, competition is fierce, and the Crimson Tide’s backfield is drawing particular attention—not just for its depth, but for the bruising presence of a rising star whose size and running style have inevitably drawn comparisons to one of Alabama’s most legendary players. At 6-foot-2 and weighing in at a powerful 242 pounds, the young back is impossible to miss. His frame is reminiscent of Derrick Henry, the 2015 Heisman Trophy winner and NFL All-Pro known for punishing defenders and wearing down defenses with a relentless blend of size, speed, and endurance. As whispers of this resemblance swirl around the practice field, the player at the center of the storm is doing everything he can to stay grounded and focused.
The comparisons started as soon as recruiting sites updated his weight and scouts began sharing footage of his high school domination. Though raw, his blend of size and explosion caught the eye of fans and analysts alike. In an era where many backs are trending toward versatility and hybrid skill sets, this player seemed to be a throwback to a more physical style of football, evoking memories of Henry’s galloping, overwhelming runs in crimson and white. When the running back arrived on campus, the buzz only intensified. His first appearance in an Alabama uniform turned heads, and it didn’t take long before the “next Derrick Henry” label started following him from the locker room to the weight room, and eventually onto the practice field. But for the young man behind the facemask, such talk is both flattering and burdensome.
“It’s humbling, man,” he says, brushing sweat from his brow after another intense camp session. “Derrick Henry is one of the greatest to ever do it here, and one of the best backs in the NFL. But I’m not trying to be the next him. I’m trying to be the first me.” His words are measured, his tone respectful. It’s clear he holds Henry in high regard, but there’s also a firm sense of individuality in his voice. He knows what the comparisons mean. He understands that fans see the number, the size, the power runs up the middle, and they can’t help but draw a line from the past to the present. Yet, he also knows that wearing someone else’s legacy is a heavy weight—one that can crush if carried the wrong way.
Coaches are cautious when asked about the comparison. They see the talent, but they’re also careful to let the player develop at his own pace. “There’s no doubt he’s got physical tools that are rare,” one assistant coach explains. “He’s a load to bring down. Once he gets to the second level, it’s a problem for defenses. But what we’re focusing on right now is his vision, his footwork, his understanding of pass protection. He’s got to be the best version of himself, not try to mimic someone else’s game.” That approach has helped the back find his rhythm during camp. While the fights and scuffles that often come with a hyper-competitive environment have grabbed headlines, the running back has quietly gone about his work, earning praise for his consistency and physicality. In full-contact drills, he’s shown an ability to fall forward on every run, rarely losing yards, often dragging defenders with him. Teammates have started calling him “The Freight Train,” a nickname that seems to suit his downhill style.
Still, being in the spotlight isn’t always comfortable. For every practice rep, there’s a camera. For every big run, a social media clip. And with each viral moment, the Henry comparisons grow louder. “It’s cool that people are watching,” the running back admits. “But I don’t want to be in nobody’s shadow. I want people to talk about what I bring to the team, how I help us win. Not just how I look like someone else when I run.” Behind the scenes, the young man is putting in the work to build his own identity. He spends extra time in the film room, studying not only Henry, but other great backs—Eddie Lacy, Mark Ingram, Najee Harris. He takes notes, asks questions, and has become a sponge in meetings. The staff says his willingness to learn is one of his most impressive qualities.
In the weight room, his numbers are already elite. Strength coaches marvel at his lower-body explosion and endurance. And while his top-end speed might not match a track sprinter’s, his acceleration in tight spaces and ability to maintain power through contact set him apart. He’s not just a big back; he’s a smart runner with developing instincts and a hunger to get better. That mindset has helped him earn more reps with the first team. As camp battles unfold and the depth chart begins to take shape, it’s clear he’s forcing coaches to consider him not just as a change-of-pace option, but as a legitimate feature back. The veterans in the room have taken notice, too. Some might be threatened by such a physical presence pushing for carries, but this group has responded with mentorship. One upperclassman running back noted, “He’s got all the tools. But what I like is he listens. He asks what he can do better. You don’t see that from every guy who comes in hyped up like that.”
Despite the growing buzz, the player remains grounded. He credits his high school coach for instilling a work ethic that won’t allow him to get comfortable. He also leans on his family, especially his mother, who watches every practice she can attend and keeps him humble with reminders of how far he has to go. “She don’t care about no rankings,” he says with a laugh. “She just wants to make sure I’m staying focused, doing the right things, keeping my grades up, treating people right.” That foundation might be what ultimately separates him from others who have crumbled under the weight of expectation. For now, he’s not concerned with awards or draft stock. His focus is on winning a job, earning trust, and helping the team compete for a championship. He knows nothing is given at Alabama. Everything must be earned.
The heat, the hitting, the long days—he embraces it all. “That’s what this place is about,” he says. “Iron sharpens iron. If you don’t like competition, you’re in the wrong program.” As the season opener approaches, fans are eager to see what the newcomer will do when the lights come on. The highlight reels have whetted appetites, but real greatness is forged in the grind, not in offseason hype. While the comparisons to Henry may never fully fade, the back’s attitude and approach suggest he’s not trying to be the next anything. He’s carving his own path, one bruising carry at a time.
The narrative around him will continue to evolve. If he starts racking up yards and touchdowns, the talk will grow. There will be endless side-by-sides, statistical breakdowns, and historical projections. That comes with the territory when you wear Alabama’s jersey and run with authority. But the player’s focus won’t change. His coaches say he’s as locked in as anyone they’ve seen at this stage. “He’s not reading the headlines,” one of them says. “He’s reading the playbook.” That mindset is what could make him special. The physical gifts are undeniable. The frame, the power, the stamina—they all scream potential. But it’s the humility and hunger that make coaches believe he can go from promising prospect to program pillar.
As the team breaks huddle after another full-contact session, the young back walks slowly off the field, helmet tucked under his arm, face flushed from the heat. He looks like a player who’s given everything in practice, yet he’s still asking his position coach questions on the way to the locker room. It’s clear he isn’t content with comparisons or praise. He wants production. He wants to lead. He wants his own legacy. Whether or not he ever lives up to the lofty comparisons, one thing is certain: Alabama has found a player who embodies the spirit of the program—relentless, disciplined, and driven. In time, the name on the back of his jersey might carry its own weight, separate from the ghosts of legends past. Until then, he’ll keep pushing, keep grinding, and keep running—242 pounds of promise and purpose, thundering toward the end zone.
