When Carldell “Squeaky” Johnson arrived at the University of Alabama at Birmingham (UAB) in 2003, he was a nobody. A five-foot-ten point guard originally from New Orleans, Squeaky (the nickname was initially “Squiggy” after a character in the TV show Laverne & Shirley, later changed to “Squeaky” because Johnson’s steals were squeaky clean) wasn’t recruited by any Division I schools out of high school. He went to play at Salt Lake City Community College and eventually caught the eye of UAB head coach Mike Anderson.
UAB, a public university established in 1966, is situated in the heart of downtown Birmingham, just a five-minute drive from Legacy Arena, home of the Squadron. As a member of Conference USA, the UAB basketball team competes in Division I. No, the school isn’t known for hoops. And no, the basketball program isn’t known for attracting and developing NBA prospects. But for Squeaky Johnson, being at UAB was an injection of confidence. Suddenly the NBA didn’t feel like such an impossible goal; it was a summit that Squeaky—just maybe—could reach.
So he began the steady climb. Squeaky was a feisty guard—tenacious on defense, unselfish on offense. After averaging 7.3 points, 6.3 assists, and 2.6 steals in his senior season, he went undrafted in 2006. He bounced around for a year, including stints in Belgium and Mexico, before being selected in the second round of the 2007 D-League Draft by the Austin Toros. He would be taking a considerable pay cut to leave Mexico and join the Toros, but for Squeaky, it was a no-brainer. In his mind, he would go to the D-League, impress scouts, and soon make it to the NBA. “But man, was I in for a rude awakening,” he said.
Squeaky was astounded by the level of talent in the D-League. “I remember thinking, Damn, these guys are really good, and they’re not in the NBA,” recalled Johnson. “It made me feel like, Oh, shit, I gotta work. I’m not as good as I thought I was.” Throughout that first year with the Toros, Squeaky tried to absorb as much as he could. He started eleven of forty-nine games, showing signs of improvement. Several of his teammates were called up: Marcus Williams, Keith Langford, DerMarr Johnson, Andre Barrett. Squeaky could feel it—the gravitational force of the NBA. Gripping him. Pulling him. Now that he was this close, there was no turning back.
Squeaky Johnson had to make it.
Unlike Squeaky Johnson, by the mid-aughts, Richard Hendrix was known all throughout Alabama. He was a four-year starter on the varsity basketball team at Athens High School from 2001 to 2005 and became one of the most decorated prep players in Alabama history, holding the state records for rebounds (1,820) and blocked shots (667). As a senior, Hendrix—a six-foot-eight bruising forward—was named Alabama Mr. Basketball and invited to participate in the 2005 McDonald’s All-American Game. He was a top-ten prospect in the nation according to Rivals.com and accepted a scholarship to the University of Alabama over an offer from the University of North Carolina.
In Hendrix’s case, the NBA seemed like a sure thing, an inevitability. He even toyed with the idea of entering the NBA Draft out of high school, when he was projected to be a lottery pick, but ultimately decided to honor his commitment to UA. To no one’s surprise, he continued to thrive in the competitive SEC. He was named All-Conference as both a sophomore and junior, leading the Crimson Tide in scoring both seasons. Through three years, he averaged 14 points and 8.9 rebounds and fulfilled all his academic requirements to graduate early. There was nothing left to do or prove; it was time to make the leap to the NBA.
Hendrix’s draft stock had dropped, in part due to concerns over some injuries. Still, his talent was inarguable, his production undeniable. At the age of twenty-one, Hendrix declared for the 2008 NBA Draft. He worked out for nearly half the NBA teams that summer.
On June 26, 2008, Hendrix patiently waited to discover his fate. With the draft winding down, then–deputy commissioner Adam Silver took the stage and uttered the words that Hendrix had long dreamt of hearing: “With the 49th pick in the 2008 NBA Draft, the Golden State Warriors select . . . Richard Hendrix.”
Squeaky was learning. His experience with the Toros was opening his eyes to what NBA coaches were looking for in the D-League. He was trying to find his way in—knocking on every door, checking every window, investigating every possible entry point. Offers came from overseas (more lucrative contracts than those in the D-League) and Squeaky entertained a few of them, briefly going back to Mexico for a whopping four games. But his mind was dead set on the NBA, and he knew that the D-League gave him the best shot to make it.
So Squeaky was learning. He went to Summer League with the San Antonio Spurs—the parent club for the Toros—in 2009, and during the team’s first meeting, they got a visit from legendary head coach Gregg Popovich.
Johnson recalled the story: “Gregg Popovich comes in there and says, ‘You know what, I’m not looking for any of you guys to come in and play on our team. All I want is a good locker room guy, somebody who Timmy [Duncan] likes and who Timmy wants to be around the team.’ What that meant to me was, be somebody that’s just a great team player who people want to be around. At that point, that’s when I realized, it’s not about your talent, it’s about being a good fit.”
Squeaky could do that—he could be that good fit for an NBA organization. I just have to stick it out, he thought. I can get there if I stick it out. That mindset would come at a price, though. Squeaky kept returning to the Toros. He played the full 2007–8 season . . . then the full ’08–09 season . . . then the full ’09–10 season.
By year three, most D-Leaguers have already abandoned ship, leaving for greener pastures overseas. The contracts in other countries can be significantly bigger than in the minors; at one point, Johnson was offered $20,000 a month to play in Japan, more than he earned for an entire D-League season. Like all players on the fringe, Squeaky was forced to confront the same impossible decision every year: take his talents overseas or sign in the D-League.
Chase the money or the dream?
The fact that basketball careers are short-lived—players tend to retire around the age of thirty-two, thirty-six if they’re lucky, forty if they’re really lucky—favored the overseas route. If Squeaky had only a decade or so left to play, shouldn’t he make the most of those years financially?
At the same time, he wasn’t married and didn’t have any kids, which favored the D-League route. If he wasn’t desperate for money to support a family, shouldn’t he try to achieve his ultimate goal?
Either way, Johnson would be sacrificing. Signing in the D-League meant accepting a diminished role, grinding through an arduous schedule, earning a smaller salary. Signing overseas meant leaving his loved ones behind, having to adapt to a foreign lifestyle, kissing his NBA dream goodbye.
When faced with the decision, Squeaky always tried to think ahead, to consider what his future self might feel looking back. And he just couldn’t fathom the idea of abandoning his dream. “I’d rather say I tried and did all I could do and I just didn’t make it—I just wasn’t good enough—versus me saying I left for some money,” he explained. “I’d rather just grind it out and never say woulda, coulda, shoulda.”
Hendrix was hampered by a quad injury when the Warriors opened training camp in 2008. By mid-November, though, he was healthy and confident that his opportunity was imminent. On November 14, 2008, one day before his twenty-second birthday, Hendrix had what he thought was his best practice yet in a Warriors uniform. He scored on the low post, stepped out for midrange jumpers, blocked a few shots. But right after practice ended, Hendrix received some disheartening news: he was being assigned to the D-League’s Bakersfield Jam. It completely blindsided him; even some higher-ups were not made aware of the decision beforehand.
“It just felt like a total demotion,” Hendrix said. “You didn’t want to be [in Bakersfield] at all. It was a dejected feeling.”
Since one-to-one affiliations were not yet established, being with the Jam seemed separate from being with the Warriors. Distant. Hendrix no longer felt a part of the organization. And sure enough, just over a month later, the Warriors waived him—despite the fact that he was averaging 13.9 points, 10.9 rebounds, 1.2 blocks, and 1.1 steals for the Jam. His rights were released, ending his stint in Bakersfield, and Hendrix was immediately acquired by the Dakota Wizards. Alongside Renaldo Major, he was a dominant force for the remainder of the 2008–9 D-League season, averaging 14.6 points, 11.5 rebounds, and 1.6 blocks. He led the entire league in total rebounds, double-doubles, and defensive rating and was named to the D-League All-Star team.
There were only twenty-four call-ups that season, a rare drop-off from the previous year. Hendrix wasn’t one of them. He went to Summer League in 2009 but received no offers from NBA teams. Thus, it was Hendrix’s turn to face the tormenting decision: overseas or D-League.
“I hate to say it, but it’s a hard dilemma for many players,” Hendrix said, “because, listen, you don’t grow up working on your game to try and go play in the D-League, nor do you try to grow to go play overseas. Everybody wants to play in the NBA. And all you think is NBA. And the sad part about it is, the D-League does a tremendous job of marketing to the players that they’re one step away and they’re the closest step to the NBA.
“After playing the entire year, leading the league in double-doubles, playing Summer League, I had offers to go to the Spanish ACB, which was the best league abroad at that particular time,” he continued. “My rationale was, if you played the entire year, and they saw all of that and you didn’t get a call-up, what makes you think you’re going to get one next year? You’re just waiting.”
And Hendrix wasn’t prepared to wait. He signed a six-figure deal with CB Granada and set off for Spain.
Of course, the longer Squeaky spent toiling in the D-League, the more pressure mounted. He had taken pay cut after pay cut after pay cut, and for what?
By staying in the D-League, his profile had risen. NBA teams were more attuned to his game and what he brought to the table. Still, when he was invited to training camp with the New Orleans Hornets in 2011, the twenty-eight-year-old Johnson was somewhat surprised. He didn’t believe that the coaches were truly considering him for a roster spot, but he would make them consider him. He treated those few weeks like an Army boot camp: he ate perfectly, went to sleep at the same hour, didn’t drink or party or socialize, trained relentlessly.
“Was I the best player overall? No. Was I the best player career-wise? No. But for those two weeks, man, I kicked everybody’s ass that was at the guard position,” Squeaky later said about that training camp.
Final cuts were staged like a rose ceremony on The Bachelor. Four players were gathered in a hotel room: Squeaky, Jerome Dyson, DaJuan Summers, and Trey Johnson. Hornets general manager Dell Demps was there to reveal the team’s decisions. It came down to Squeaky and Jerome Dyson, a six-foot-three guard out of UConn, for the last spot. The organization awarded it to Squeaky.
“It still didn’t sink in,” Squeaky later said. “Like, Oh shit, I’m in the NBA.”
Johnson had finally reached the summit, and it was everything he had ever imagined—on and off the court. “Oh my gosh, it’s crazy,” he told the Birmingham News about the perks of being an NBA player in 2011. “You can use your phone on the plane. It’s like a four-star restaurant up there. You have seats where you pretty much can lay down. Trust me, I’m enjoying every moment.”1
During one short road trip, the staff handed out per diems on the team plane: $1,500 in cash, to cover expenses until the Hornets returned home. That was the same amount Johnson had received on his biweekly checks in the D-League. Squeaky watched as four of his teammates immediately used the money to bet on a card game called bourré. “The whole time I’m thinking, Man, I want to play, but shoot if I lose—I need all of this,” Squeaky recalled with a laugh. “I pretty much lived off the per diem, honestly.”
Not only was Squeaky in the NBA, he was also playing for his hometown New Orleans Hornets, surrounded by friends and family. He remained with the team for about two months before getting waived in February of 2012. Overall, he earned over $168,000 and appeared in 15 games during that stint, averaging 1.8 points and 1.5 assists.
People knew Squeaky Johnson after that. What they didn’t know was that every time he stepped on the floor, Johnson was wearing D-League socks beneath his NBA socks—a reminder of all he had been through and sacrificed to get there.
In Spain, Hendrix did what he had always done: dominate. He helped lead CB Granada to the most wins in its club’s history and won the ACB Rising Star Award, presented to the best newcomer in the Spanish League. Over the ensuing years, Hendrix would take stabs at getting back to the NBA, going to Summer League and gauging interest from NBA organizations. But he would never chase it in the same way Squeaky did, never signing back in the D-League.
Instead, Hendrix would embark on an incredible journey overseas. He traveled the world through basketball, inking six- and seven-figure deals in Israel, Italy, Russia, Turkey, France, and Japan. He was a two-time Israeli League champion, a EuroCup Finals MVP, a Spanish Super Cup winner. He spent twelve years abroad—immersing himself in different cultures, learning new languages, meeting interesting people, thriving on the court—before moving on to a new career as a broadcaster in 2020.
Based on his international résumé, there is little question that Hendrix had the ability to play in the NBA. He just didn’t have the opportunity right away, and waiting for it to arrive was a risky proposition. A costly proposition.
“You have a responsibility to provide for yourself and for your potential family,” said Hendrix. “So that’s what you’re playing for. You’re a professional. You want to be compensated. So compensation was the goal for me, and once I got to a point where it didn’t make any sense to come back and try it again, because I had a really good career, then I was content with it.”
For every Squeaky Johnson or Renaldo Major, there were numerous others who didn’t make it, who sacrificed enormous amounts of money in the pursuit of a dream they never achieved.
Hendrix continued:
I will go out on a limb and say this—and it’s not to be detrimental in any way—I understand the logic; I don’t agree with the logic. Obviously, I have to stand on the type of decision that I made for myself. I just feel like the rational aspect of it is, like, your body, what you’re putting it through, all of those types of things that you have to consider, to look up and after ten years of doing it, to have nothing tangible to show for it—I don’t know if it’s a decision to make, personally. Like I said, it’s life. You let people make the decision they have to make and want to make, and I understand it. But I do think it’s sad when I look back and see so many players who have some real skills, and not to say that they wasted it, but they did not maximize financially the opportunities they could have had in their prime years.
It’s sad when, as a guy like myself, who played abroad and played with some guys in the D-League and they finally realize, okay, I’ve tried it for so many years to no luck, and now I gotta go get some money on the back end. And I’m over there established and other people are established, and they are still at the back of the line over there. So you never made any headway in the D-League and you’re also not going to make any headway abroad because you started so late. It’s sad to me. And I wish that there were better avenues for people to make more swift decisions.
As for his decisions, Hendrix has no regrets. He followed his preferred path and found remarkable success. “But I will say, when you look at guys who had far less ability than you and have achieved far less than you, and you look at them and they have played one [NBA] game, ten games, albeit just for a couple of minutes, there is something that you will have in you, regardless of how well you did overseas and your reputation, for me to say that I never played in the NBA, it does mean something,” he acknowledged. On the Wikipedia page for the 2008 NBA Draft, players who have never appeared in an NBA game are highlighted in gray and have a pound symbol next to their names. Every time Hendrix sees that, it stings.
“But you move forward and you say, hey, you got responsibilities as a husband and a father and you handled your business on that aspect,” he added. “And it’s, like, hey, just swallow it and move on. I wouldn’t trade my career. I wouldn’t trade it for two games in the NBA to say I made it. I definitely wouldn’t do that. But I do wish that I would have had a time that I did play, for sure.”
“I’m not going to lie to you, I’m going to keep it 100 percent with you. I didn’t make as much money playing that everybody made going overseas,” Squeaky admitted.
Even after his brief stint with the Hornets, Johnson returned to the D-League for two more seasons. He had enjoyed a small taste of his dream; now he craved a bigger bite. He signed a free-agent deal with the Atlanta Hawks in 2012, but never stepped foot on an NBA court again. By the end of the road, Squeaky had played 230 games in the minors, the eleventh most in D-League history.
“As a kid, all you want to do is play in the NBA,” Johnson said. “And in my career, I probably made the least amount of money out of any ten people you call because I stayed in the D-League so long. But for me, actually making it to the NBA meant more to me than making any amount of money overseas. So ultimately it just depends on the player and what they want overall.
“For guys who could possibly hear this, man, there’s nothing like saying you played in the NBA,” he went on. “That’s going to follow you for the rest of your life. Now that I have a son, that’s part of my legacy. Even if I played in the NBA one minute, he could say, ‘My dad played in the NBA.’ I think the money is great but even now, twelve years later, people still introduce me as, ‘That’s Squeaky Johnson; he played in the NBA.’ I think that’s a tag that is priceless. I wouldn’t trade that for nothing.”
Every member of the Squadron had confronted the same dilemma. Some were sacrificing more money than others by choosing the G League route. Young, for example, had turned down a $3 million offer in China, signing in the minors for just $37,000. But they all stood to lose something. Even those with slim-to-no chances of reaching the NBA were hoping to position themselves for better contracts in 2022.
As the Squadron flew from Texas back to Alabama, the most crucial month of the season approached. And with each day that passed, the stakes were only rising.