Troy University Athletics

Shaped by Loss, Driven by Love - The Kam Curry Story
5/20/2026 9:47:00 AM | Football
Kam Curry still remembers the moment everything changed.
Â
He was 13 years old when he lost his younger brother, Lagurius "G Baby" Morris. One day they were together. The next, Kam was standing there watching his little brother take his last breath.
Â
For most people, a moment like that becomes a dividing line in life. There is the version of yourself before it happened and the version afterward. Kam admits he carried that pain with him for a long time. In many ways, he still does.
Â
But instead of letting tragedy pull him under, the Troy defensive lineman found a way to let it sharpen him.
Â
It shaped the way he approaches football. It shaped the way he views family. Most importantly, it shaped the way he carries himself as a father.
Â
Now, years later, Curry stands on the edge of earning his college degree after fighting his way from Mississippi to Texas, through junior college football and into the Division I ranks. Every practice, every workout and every snap carries a purpose far bigger than himself.
Â
Because when Kam Curry lines up on Saturdays, he is not playing for attention.
Â
He is playing for the people he loves most.
Â
"I just knew to never give up and go hard," Curry said. "Hard work, dedication and consistency give you where you want to be."
Â
Growing up in Mississippi, football always came naturally to him. He bounced around positions as a kid, playing running back, linebacker and defensive line. He loved the physicality of the sport and loved competing even more.
Â
Then came the loss of his brother.
Â
Curry does not spend much time discussing the details of what happened. He does not need to. The weight of it still sits heavy enough.
Â
What he does talk about is the bond they shared.
Â
His brother loved football too. Loved the energy of it. Loved the excitement. Curry still hears those memories every time he puts his headphones on before a game.
Â
"There's songs we used to listen to," Curry said. "I still play them before games and it brings back memories."
Â
The pain of losing his brother became even harder because it happened around the same time his family moved from Mississippi to Texas. At 13 years old, Curry was grieving while also trying to leave behind the only home he had ever known.
Â
His friends were there. His memories were there. His brother was there.
Â
Leaving felt wrong.
Â
"I'm not going to lie, it was pretty hard," Curry said. "I didn't really want to leave my hometown."
Â
Looking back now, Curry understands the move changed the direction of his football career.
Â
In Mississippi, he was still viewed as more of a skill player. Once he arrived in Texas football, everything became more demanding. Bigger schools. Bigger players. Bigger expectations.
Â
The coaches at Midland Legacy quickly saw something in him.
Â
They moved him to defensive line full time and threw him into the fire immediately.
Â
At the time, Curry weighed around 260 pounds. The coaches paired him against the varsity starting center every day in practice, a future Division I player headed to Texas State. Curry admits there were days he got overwhelmed.
Â
But he kept showing up.
Â
"They had me going against him every day," Curry said. "I used to get messed up every day by the center. But he got me better."
Â
Eventually, the frustration turned into fuel.
Â
Curry attacked the weight room. He worked on technique. He got stronger. Then one day during fall camp, he finally won a rep cleanly against the older lineman who had been dominating him.
Â
That moment stayed with him.
Â
"When I won that rep, that's what taught me," Curry said. "I got to play to win."
Â
Texas football helped unlock his potential, but life off the field still presented obstacles.
Â
Curry knew early on his grades would likely keep major Division I schools away coming out of high school. Instead of pretending otherwise, he accepted the challenge head on.
Â
He began preparing himself mentally for the junior college route because he believed in his ability.
Â
"That's when I realized I can really do this," Curry said.
Â
The path through junior college is rarely glamorous. It demands patience, humility and toughness. Players are constantly fighting to prove they belong while chasing another opportunity.
Â
Curry embraced it.
Â
Eventually, that road led him to Troy where his relentless style and work ethic fit naturally into the program.
Â
Yet even as his football career continued climbing, the biggest motivations in his life waited hundreds of miles away in Texas.
Â
His daughters, Kamia and Wynter.
Â
One is six years old. The other is two.
Â
For Curry, becoming a father changed everything about the way he viewed success.
Â
Football stopped being about himself a long time ago.
Â
"It gotta happen," Curry said. "That really motivates me a lot."
Â
Being away from his daughters has not been easy. Troy sits roughly 15 hours away from Midland, Texas, meaning much of fatherhood happens through phone calls and FaceTime conversations during the season.
Â
Still, Curry makes sure they know their dad is always there.
Â
"I call my kids every day," Curry said. "I talk to them every day."
Â
When they are able to attend games, Curry feels an extra surge of energy.
Â
His daughters were there for his first game at Troy. They have been there for several others too, including Troy's game at Texas State. Curry smiles talking about those moments because they remind him exactly why he keeps pushing.
Â
Some players chase NFL dreams because of fame or money. Curry's reasons feel much simpler.
Â
He wants to provide.
Â
He learned that mindset from watching his mother, Nikkel Thomas.
Â
Curry describes himself as a "mama's boy" with no hesitation. While he maintains a relationship with his father, he says his mother became the steady force who guided him through the hardest moments of life.
Â
Whenever stress starts building, she is still the person he calls.
Â
"She the one that can level my head out," Curry said.
Â
Watching her raise him and his sisters while carrying the weight of so much adversity left a permanent impact on him. It gave him confidence that difficult circumstances do not have to define a family forever.
Â
"If she can do all this and come through for me and my sisters, then I can do the same thing," Curry said.
Â
That belief drives him now as a father.
Â
Curry understands the opportunity sitting in front of him. He knows football can open doors that once seemed impossible when he was a grieving teenager trying to adjust to a new life in Texas.
Â
He also understands nothing has been handed to him.
Â
Not the move. Not the losses. Not the football opportunities. Not the growth.
Â
Everything came through persistence.
Â
That perspective is part of what makes Curry easy to respect inside a locker room. Teammates see the intensity on Saturdays, but they also see the purpose behind it.
Â
The journey shaped him into someone tougher than he ever imagined he could become.
Â
There are still moments when memories of his brother come rushing back. Those moments probably never disappear completely. But Curry has learned how to carry grief without allowing it to consume him.
Â
Instead, he channels it.
Â
Every workout becomes a tribute. Every game becomes another chance to honor the people who helped shape him. Every sacrifice becomes another step toward building the life he wants for his daughters.
Â
When Curry reflects on everything he has overcome, there is no bitterness in his voice. No self-pity either.
Â
Only pride.
Â
"I'd tell myself I'm proud of you," Curry said.
Â
For a kid who once stood in the middle of heartbreak wondering how life could possibly move forward, that may be the most meaningful victory of all.
Â
Â
Â
He was 13 years old when he lost his younger brother, Lagurius "G Baby" Morris. One day they were together. The next, Kam was standing there watching his little brother take his last breath.
Â
For most people, a moment like that becomes a dividing line in life. There is the version of yourself before it happened and the version afterward. Kam admits he carried that pain with him for a long time. In many ways, he still does.
Â
But instead of letting tragedy pull him under, the Troy defensive lineman found a way to let it sharpen him.
Â
It shaped the way he approaches football. It shaped the way he views family. Most importantly, it shaped the way he carries himself as a father.
Â
Now, years later, Curry stands on the edge of earning his college degree after fighting his way from Mississippi to Texas, through junior college football and into the Division I ranks. Every practice, every workout and every snap carries a purpose far bigger than himself.
Â
Because when Kam Curry lines up on Saturdays, he is not playing for attention.
Â
He is playing for the people he loves most.
Â
"I just knew to never give up and go hard," Curry said. "Hard work, dedication and consistency give you where you want to be."
Â
Growing up in Mississippi, football always came naturally to him. He bounced around positions as a kid, playing running back, linebacker and defensive line. He loved the physicality of the sport and loved competing even more.
Â
Then came the loss of his brother.
Â
Curry does not spend much time discussing the details of what happened. He does not need to. The weight of it still sits heavy enough.
Â
What he does talk about is the bond they shared.
Â
His brother loved football too. Loved the energy of it. Loved the excitement. Curry still hears those memories every time he puts his headphones on before a game.
Â
"There's songs we used to listen to," Curry said. "I still play them before games and it brings back memories."
Â
The pain of losing his brother became even harder because it happened around the same time his family moved from Mississippi to Texas. At 13 years old, Curry was grieving while also trying to leave behind the only home he had ever known.
Â
His friends were there. His memories were there. His brother was there.
Â
Leaving felt wrong.
Â
"I'm not going to lie, it was pretty hard," Curry said. "I didn't really want to leave my hometown."
Â
Looking back now, Curry understands the move changed the direction of his football career.
Â
In Mississippi, he was still viewed as more of a skill player. Once he arrived in Texas football, everything became more demanding. Bigger schools. Bigger players. Bigger expectations.
Â
The coaches at Midland Legacy quickly saw something in him.
Â
They moved him to defensive line full time and threw him into the fire immediately.
Â
At the time, Curry weighed around 260 pounds. The coaches paired him against the varsity starting center every day in practice, a future Division I player headed to Texas State. Curry admits there were days he got overwhelmed.
Â
But he kept showing up.
Â
"They had me going against him every day," Curry said. "I used to get messed up every day by the center. But he got me better."
Â
Eventually, the frustration turned into fuel.
Â
Curry attacked the weight room. He worked on technique. He got stronger. Then one day during fall camp, he finally won a rep cleanly against the older lineman who had been dominating him.
Â
That moment stayed with him.
Â
"When I won that rep, that's what taught me," Curry said. "I got to play to win."
Â
Texas football helped unlock his potential, but life off the field still presented obstacles.
Â
Curry knew early on his grades would likely keep major Division I schools away coming out of high school. Instead of pretending otherwise, he accepted the challenge head on.
Â
He began preparing himself mentally for the junior college route because he believed in his ability.
Â
"That's when I realized I can really do this," Curry said.
Â
The path through junior college is rarely glamorous. It demands patience, humility and toughness. Players are constantly fighting to prove they belong while chasing another opportunity.
Â
Curry embraced it.
Â
Eventually, that road led him to Troy where his relentless style and work ethic fit naturally into the program.
Â
Yet even as his football career continued climbing, the biggest motivations in his life waited hundreds of miles away in Texas.
Â
His daughters, Kamia and Wynter.
Â
One is six years old. The other is two.
Â
For Curry, becoming a father changed everything about the way he viewed success.
Â
Football stopped being about himself a long time ago.
Â
"It gotta happen," Curry said. "That really motivates me a lot."
Â
Being away from his daughters has not been easy. Troy sits roughly 15 hours away from Midland, Texas, meaning much of fatherhood happens through phone calls and FaceTime conversations during the season.
Â
Still, Curry makes sure they know their dad is always there.
Â
"I call my kids every day," Curry said. "I talk to them every day."
Â
When they are able to attend games, Curry feels an extra surge of energy.
Â
His daughters were there for his first game at Troy. They have been there for several others too, including Troy's game at Texas State. Curry smiles talking about those moments because they remind him exactly why he keeps pushing.
Â
Some players chase NFL dreams because of fame or money. Curry's reasons feel much simpler.
Â
He wants to provide.
Â
He learned that mindset from watching his mother, Nikkel Thomas.
Â
Curry describes himself as a "mama's boy" with no hesitation. While he maintains a relationship with his father, he says his mother became the steady force who guided him through the hardest moments of life.
Â
Whenever stress starts building, she is still the person he calls.
Â
"She the one that can level my head out," Curry said.
Â
Watching her raise him and his sisters while carrying the weight of so much adversity left a permanent impact on him. It gave him confidence that difficult circumstances do not have to define a family forever.
Â
"If she can do all this and come through for me and my sisters, then I can do the same thing," Curry said.
Â
That belief drives him now as a father.
Â
Curry understands the opportunity sitting in front of him. He knows football can open doors that once seemed impossible when he was a grieving teenager trying to adjust to a new life in Texas.
Â
He also understands nothing has been handed to him.
Â
Not the move. Not the losses. Not the football opportunities. Not the growth.
Â
Everything came through persistence.
Â
That perspective is part of what makes Curry easy to respect inside a locker room. Teammates see the intensity on Saturdays, but they also see the purpose behind it.
Â
The journey shaped him into someone tougher than he ever imagined he could become.
Â
There are still moments when memories of his brother come rushing back. Those moments probably never disappear completely. But Curry has learned how to carry grief without allowing it to consume him.
Â
Instead, he channels it.
Â
Every workout becomes a tribute. Every game becomes another chance to honor the people who helped shape him. Every sacrifice becomes another step toward building the life he wants for his daughters.
Â
When Curry reflects on everything he has overcome, there is no bitterness in his voice. No self-pity either.
Â
Only pride.
Â
"I'd tell myself I'm proud of you," Curry said.
Â
For a kid who once stood in the middle of heartbreak wondering how life could possibly move forward, that may be the most meaningful victory of all.
Â
Â
Players Mentioned
Goose Crowder - T-Day
Saturday, April 18
Donnie Smith - T-Day
Saturday, April 18
Gerad Parker - T-Day
Saturday, April 18
Gerad Parker - April 16
Thursday, April 16













