If you came here looking for Kubernetes, Linux, Proxmox, Raspberry Pis, homelabs, clusters, DevOps, AI, or someone nerding out about infrastructure, don’t worry. We’re definitely getting there.
But before we start talking about dashboards, servers, observability stacks, and why I willingly spend hours troubleshooting Linux problems I probably created myself, I figured it was time to tell you who I actually am.
Because the truth is, technology wasn’t my first identity. Football was. And for a long time, I honestly didn’t know who I was without it.
Paris, KY: The Real Horse Capital of the World
I grew up in a small town called Paris, KY, and yes, the real Horse Capital of the World. Small town. Everybody knows everybody. Friday night football wasn’t just football, it was the event. The thing the whole town showed up for.
And like a lot of kids growing up in places like that, sports became part of my identity really early.
Back in 2006-2007, I was one of the top football recruits in the state of Kentucky, the highest ranked recruit my high school had ever produced. At one point I had over 30 full ride scholarship offers sitting in front of me from schools people dream about.
Athletics:
- University of Kentucky
- University of Louisville
- Auburn University
- University of Tennessee
- University of Miami
- University of Michigan
But something most people never knew back then, there was another side of the recruiting process too.
Academic powerhouses:
- Cornell University
- Brown University
- Columbia University
- Georgia Tech
- University of North Carolina
- University of Virginia
Looking back now, I think maybe those schools saw something in me that I didn’t fully see in myself yet. Because even back then, there was always this nerd side of me trying to come out. I just buried it.
Being a tech nerd and a football player didn’t exactly mix in a small town in Kentucky. You’re supposed to be tough. Lift weights. Hit people. Nobody expects you to secretly be curious about how systems work or why things work the way they do. But maybe that curiosity was always there. Maybe I just didn’t know where it belonged yet.
The Biggest Decision of My Life: Picked Out of a Hat
Here’s something that sounds completely insane now. When it came time to choose a school, I took my top five, Michigan State, Auburn, Tennessee, Kentucky, and Louisville, wrote them down, put them in a hat, closed my eyes, and picked one.
No deep strategy. No recruiting formula. No long family debate. Just young, talented, and trying to figure life out.
I pulled out Michigan State. And at the time it felt like destiny, like I had officially made it. Full ride. Big football school. Big opportunity. Kid from Paris, Kentucky heading to the Big Ten.
Turns out life had other plans.
What Could Go Wrong?
Before I ever played a single down at Michigan State, things changed. I got hurt playing in the Kentucky vs. Tennessee All Star game. Just like that, the thing I had spent my entire life working toward suddenly started feeling uncertain.
When you’re young and your entire identity has been built around one thing, you assume it’ll all work out. You think: I’ll be fine. I’ll figure it out. I’m still me.
But what I learned later is this, sometimes when your dream changes, your identity changes too. And that part nobody really prepares you for.
Michigan State Wasn’t What I Thought It Would Be
When I got to Michigan State, I thought I was stepping into the next chapter of becoming who I was supposed to be. But honestly, I struggled. And not just physically. Mentally too.
This is probably one of the most honest things I’ve ever shared publicly, because not many people really know this part of my story. One of the coaches made fun of where I came from almost immediately. Being from a small town. Being different. Being from Paris, Kentucky.
At first I brushed it off. You tell yourself that’s just coaching. Toughen up. Don’t take it personal. But over time, that environment started weighing on me, and I was already carrying more than people knew.
The Part Nobody Really Knows
From the outside, I probably looked like somebody living the dream. Kid from a small town. Full ride scholarship. Big university. Football future ahead of him. But internally, I felt lost.
For the first time in my life, football wasn’t solving my problems. Football had always been the thing, the structure, the confidence, the routine, the identity. And now I was sitting there wondering: who am I if I’m not this anymore?
That question messed me up for a while. I found myself in a really dark place mentally, dark enough that I contemplated suicide.
That’s hard to say out loud. But it’s true. And I’m sharing it because people only see polished versions of people online. The success stories. The promotions. The wins. Nobody sees the moments where somebody is trying to figure out if life still makes sense after the thing they loved most falls apart.
When I decided I was leaving Michigan State, one coach said something I’ll probably never forget. He told me: “One day I’ll ride through that little town you call home and see your black ass picking up trash.”
For a long time that sentence sat with me. Not because there’s anything wrong with picking up trash, sanitation and infrastructure workers are some of the most important people in society. Cities literally don’t function without them. But because at one of the lowest points of my life, somebody I respected basically told me I had failed. And if I’m being real? For a while, part of me believed him.
Learning How to Let Go
Leaving football wasn’t just leaving football. It felt like losing myself. Athletes understand this, especially athletes whose whole lives revolved around performance. You spend years hearing “football player,” “recruit,” “athlete.” Then one day you’re just a regular person. And suddenly everybody asks: so what are you gonna do now?
That question used to mess with me. Because I honestly didn’t know. I had to completely rebuild who I was. And that took years.
One of the first things I did was work with AmeriCorps, math tutor, teacher, coaching high school football. And honestly, that chapter mattered more than I realized at the time. For the first time in a while, I started realizing I still had something valuable to offer people outside of sports. Then I started taking night classes to become an industrial maintenance technician.
And that’s where life started quietly changing. Without me even realizing it.
Toyota Changed Everything
One day, representatives from Toyota came into one of my classes, gave us an aptitude test, and about three weeks later I got a call. Suddenly I had a job. Just like that.
At Toyota, I handled AGVs, Automated Guided Vehicles. Basically robots moving materials through industrial systems. At the time I just thought: cool job. But now I realize I was already learning systems thinking. Troubleshooting. Automation. How machines talk to each other. How processes integrate. How infrastructure supports operations.
The nerd side of me was already waking up. I just didn’t know it yet.
Continue reading: Part 2: How Trash Computers Built Ced’s Home Lab