FAYETTEVILLE — Matt Zimmerman recalls the gym at Lakeview High School being a sauna.
It was at least 110 degrees when the team’s practice began one afternoon in September 2015. Sent by former Arkansas coach Mike Anderson, he traveled to Campti, La., six and a half hours south, to check in with an energetic prospect that the staff, after watching him play twice in Duncanville, Texas, and Las Vegas, believed was built for the Razorbacks’ style of play.
He arrived in the small town made up of mostly farmland in Natchitoches Parish a bit early that day, so he first paid a visit to Lakeview guidance counselor Fannie Holden to learn more about the teenager who had piqued his interest on the AAU circuit: Adrio Bailey.
“I knew we had someone pretty special after talking to her. So many people in the community and around the school loved him,” Zimmerman said. “There were so many people pulling for him. Great attitude, great kid, a selfless kind of young man.
“She was the first to tell me about this great kid. I remember her talking about the teachers loving him, and he was one of the leaders in the school.”
A couple of hours later, after watching Bailey’s every move in a preseason practice, Zimmerman picked up his phone and drafted a text to fellow Arkansas assistant T.J. Cleveland, now the associate head coach at St. John’s under Anderson.
He’s dunked like 100 times in this practice. We’ve got to have this kid. He is a Coach Anderson kind of kid, he wrote.
Lakeview’s roster was guard-heavy, but Bailey was one of the team’s three frontline players. A couple of drills were designed for the quick guards to attack the lane and dump the ball off to bigs along the baseline for a score. Bailey would take every third rep.
“It was dunk, dunk, dunk, dunk,” Zimmerman said. “Then they switched drills and did one where they’re running the floor and they’d hit Adrio running the trail in the middle. Dunk. Dunk. I was like, ‘This is great. He’s a great dunker, but Adrio is going to wear down here.’”
Rather than tire out, Bailey pushed through the rest of the workout and gave Zimmerman a glimpse of his northern Louisiana toughness.
“I didn’t sit there and count all the dunks, but he did it over the course of one practice,” he said. “He was a no brainer. He was catch and dunk, catch and dunk. It sounds like nothing, but sometimes you go watch a practice and they don’t do much.
“It was like he was training for us.”
Later that fall, Zimmerman went back down to Louisiana to the Shreveport area for a tournament. He wanted another look at Bailey, who reminded him a bit of former Arkansas guard Michael Qualls. They were both north Louisiana kids who played in high school programs that played an aggressive defensive style.
Early on in the game, Bailey had made several physical plays around the rim, including a couple of dunks. The crowd was loving it, as was Zimmerman.
"I was sitting there in Arkansas gear and people are into it and were coming up to me telling me how awesome Adrio was," he said. "The gym was packed, and I was beaming with pride that he was going to be a Razorback.
"He was a hard-playing stud."
Bailey attended high school in Campti, but he grew up in Clarence, La., another small town roughly half the size of the former population-wise. He describes Clarence as a boring, sleepy town with not a lot to do.
In terms of businesses, there is only a Phillips 66 gas station and, according to Yelp, one restaurant - Grayson’s Barbeque. Bailey and his family and friends made the best of things, starting water balloon wars and throwing birthday parties to give the community a reason to come together.
In Campti, he played pick-up basketball on a concrete slab at a place locals called The Bottom. He and his friends rode bikes around the town, too. That was about it. Like Clarence, there was one restaurant, Kenny’s Pizza, and a Dollar General.
Bailey made sure he stayed out of harm’s way by placing his focus on basketball. His high school coach, Brian Williams, and Lakeview’s principal poured into Bailey, giving him access to the gym at essentially any time.
Some nights, he would call Williams and ask if he could get shots up at 2-3 a.m. The coach obliged.
“The community saw something in me that I didn’t see in myself,” Bailey told WholeHogSports on March 9. “Keep in mind, where I’m from you don’t really get those guys (who invest) in you to get those types of opportunities, but they OK’d it for me.
"To me, that meant a lot. For them to not do that to everyone and just for me, they saw something in me that I didn’t see. It meant a lot for me off the court.”
In an effort to keep friends and teammates out of trouble, Bailey would bring them with him to the gym. But he couldn’t take everyone, and some of his friends went down the wrong path.
A few people Bailey grew up with were killed.
“They just kind of looked at something else,” he said. “A lot of my close friends ended up doing the wrong things, and some of them, I wish they were here. Instead of being at a certain place at the right time, they were at the wrong place at the wrong time.”
And when he was 14 and in the 10th grade, Bailey was dealt a crushing, life-altering blow. He lost his everything.
Bailey is a self-proclaimed momma’s boy.
His mother, Claretha, was his best friend. He says she was a determined woman, down to earth and outgoing, and didn’t put up with nonsense. If she wanted something done, it would get done, even if she had to do it herself.
On Feb. 25, 2014, she died at a Shreveport hospital from a rare lung disease. She was 45. Bailey was crushed.
“It was a tough time for me to overcome,” said Bailey, who has ‘R.I.P Clare’ prominently placed in the bio of his Instagram account. “As a 10th grader, you can’t even imagine that type of thing. I know she’s with me now throughout my success and all my ups and downs. I just find a little light to smile, man. I just feel like that’s her in me.
“I honestly believe she’s the reason I have everything that I have now.”
For a brief time, Bailey thought about not even going to college so he could stay with his father, Major Bailey Sr., who was “going through it” following her death, Adrio said. Together, they had to figure out a way to push forward without the lady who continually made them smile.
In the coming months and years, Holden and Bailey’s godmother, Marjorie Cotton, an assistant basketball coach at Southern University, were sources of guidance and comfort. At school, Bailey turned to Holden, who lost her mother right after college during her first year as a teacher.
“I would call him into my office just to check on him to make sure he’s OK,” said Holden, who lives in Natchitoches, La. “I know what it’s like. People are there for you, but just to say, ‘Are you alright?’ I didn’t want him to find other things that wouldn’t make him successful to turn to.
“I wanted to show him I loved him as a student. He was like a long-distance relative to me. … He had Coach Cotton as well. She was very supportive, always there and was another one who took care of him and made sure he didn’t lack for nothing. His principal, too. Everybody loved him. If there was anything he needed, we were going to make sure he was taken care of.”
Bailey and Cotton grew very close. She was like a mother to him, to the point that she would think something was up if Bailey had not reached out in the span of a week. He also appreciated the impromptu calls into Holden’s office.
“She stayed on me about just keeping my grades up, staying out of trouble, staying in the gym,” he said. “She would look at my grades and be like, ‘OK, you need to get this up.’ Those little things go a long way with me.
“Just to show me she cared meant a lot to me. I’m a little things guy.”
Major Sr., who Adrio says he gets his big personality from, sat down with his son and told him not going to college would not have been what his mother wanted for him, so he set his sights on the next chapter in his life.
On Nov. 11, 2015, Bailey signed with Arkansas during a ceremony in front of family, friends and Lakeview students in the school’s gym. He chose the Razorbacks over reported scholarship offers from Wichita State, Murray State, Old Dominion and Louisiana Tech.
"Even when I committed to Arkansas, I kind of broke down because she can't be here,” Bailey said of his mother the day he signed. “But it's all good. I know she's here in spirit."
According to Zimmerman and Bailey, Mike Anderson had a team rule that freshman basketball players were not allowed to have a car on campus. Bailey was not impacted, though, because he did not have a car when he got to Arkansas.
He finally got one ahead of his junior year. It was a black Scion xB, probably the cheapest car him, his father and brother Major Jr. could afford at the time, but it was a good car, he said.
"You ever seen the movie The Incredibles? When (Mr. Incredible is) trying to be a normal person? That’s literally how I looked in that car," Bailey added, laughing. "But I was thankful for it."
Without a car of his own in his first two years in Fayetteville, Bailey did whatever he had to do to return home to see family on breaks. That included hours-long rides on Jefferson Lines buses from Wedington Dr. to northern Louisiana.
Bailey said the buses would break down at times, the air conditioning wouldn't work, and neither did the on-board bathroom. Some of the seats were covered with old food, spilled drinks and even vomit. One scare during his sophomore year actually led to Bailey getting a car by Year 3 at Arkansas.
The bus he was on made a stop in Texarkana, and a few people Bailey assumed were recently freed prison inmates hopped on. They had tattoos on their face, no personal belongings with them and looked mad at the world. Dressed in fresh Nike-issued Arkansas basketball gear, he began getting looks from one of the men.
"I’m not, like, scared, but I am scared," Bailey said. "I can’t be too scared because I'm the biggest on the bus. So they come in and every seat is taken, but I had my bag in the seat beside me. Instead of him asking, he picks up my bag and throws it.
"I let it slide. I looked at him like, ‘You got that. You got that.’ I’m not fixing to lose my life because you’re mad."
The bus rides weren't all bad, though, he joked. During his sophomore season, a fan recognized Bailey from the Razorbacks' loss to North Carolina and asked for an autograph while waiting to board.
Bailey played in the NCAA Tournament in his first two seasons at Arkansas, then the NIT as a junior. His senior year was cut at least two games short. The Razorbacks would have at least earned an invitation to the NIT this spring. But he played his best basketball in his final two years.
Over those 66 games - 56 starts - he averaged 5.9 points on 46.3 percent shooting and 3.7 rebounds. Bailey put up a career-high 6.3 points and 4.4 rebounds per outing as a senior under first-year coach Eric Musselman and added to an impressive highlight tape behind a newfound perimeter jumper, big-time dunks and electric blocks.
More than that, he radiated a joy that was picked up by the team and coaching staff, Musselman said.
"Probably not just behind closed doors, probably when he was walking around campus," he added. "He’s got a personality that kind of lightens up a room. Every team needs that. Every team needs an energizer personality that even when you lose 2-3 in a row comes in with a smile on his face."
Bailey describes his four years at Arkansas as a dream. Growing as a man and playing high-level basketball was a thought he played out in his mind often in Campti and Clarence as a kid.
On his left arm is a tattoo that reads 'BELIEVE' in one direction and 'DREAM' in the other in thick, black ink.
"Like any other kid, it might not have played out like I wanted it to, but I’m still dreaming," Bailey said. "My rock is just different. It’s something I worked for."