“I'M AT A POINT in my life where I’m like, Are you going to be doing this forever?” That’s how my afternoon conversation with J. Cole begins. He repeats the question he posed to himself. We’re posted up in the workout room of a parks and recreation facility in Raleigh, NC. I’m fairly sure it’s the room the community center uses for yoga and stretching classes. The kind seniors attend to stay limber and remain social.
Our early morning was spent outdoors with Cole posing various looks for the day’s photo shoot. We’re a small group, less than a dozen of us gathered on the asphalt. At one point I realize I don’t know if it’s due to COVID precautions or Cole’s low-maintenance lifestyle and laid-back demeanor. Probably a mix of both.
In group settings, he’s mostly silent, besides some visible nervousness around the idea of sitting on top of an aged basketball hoop that has seen better days. You know, the kind of hoop that has the cloth net that’s been up so long that it’s fuzzy and frayed—the kind of net that holds onto the ball like a Venus flytrap after a shot is made. “You said you tested this?” he asks the group while trying to get comfortable on the rim. “Yeah?”
And now here we are, just a couple hours later with the day’s shoot wrapped, conversing in a space commonly used to channel calmness, well-being and clarity.
On its face, Cole’s question—Am I going to be doing this forever?—sounds like he’s floating the idea of leaving the rap game. It’s something that circles every-one who does anything from the moment they make their debut. It has a particular significance and status in hip-hop ever since Hov announced his “retirement” from rap in 2003.
If you’re in the NBA, this notion might not be as celebratory. Maybe this thought occurs after you’ve clocked a few years in the League. Maybe after the first time a new rookie outscores you in practice. Or when you notice your legs don’t have the hops they used to. Or while trying to come back from a tough injury. A fearful moment that this is all you’ve ever wanted to do—and maybe all you’ve ever prepared to do—and the trembling juxta-position that you’re smarter than you’ve ever
