More Than What You Gain: Saboor Karriem Finds Joy in the Game

There is a reminder written above the goals on Saboor Karriem's mirror.

It is not about what you gain in this lifetime. It is about who you become.

Below it are the football goals he has carried with him: earning his first start, becoming an All-American, earning first team all-conference honors. Some have been accomplished. Others, including "First Team, Big Ten," remain even though Karriem now plays at Temple.

He never erased it.

"Your achievements don't define you," Karriem said. "It's about who you become in the process."

Now in his fourth year of college football, the Temple safety still has goals to chase. He has also learned to appreciate something simpler.

"I'm having a hell of a lot of fun," he said. "So much fun."

That perspective started long before Philadelphia.

Growing up in New Jersey, Karriem played just about everything. Football came first, at four, followed by basketball, soccer, lacrosse, hockey, tennis and golf.

"My mom made me do everything," Karriem said.

She also made him earn the right to keep doing it.

During his sophomore year of high school, Karriem had two C's. His coach did not take him out of the lineup.

His mother did.

"My mom told me I couldn't play in the game on Saturday," Karriem said. "Growing up like that, it was always an accountability factor that my mom instilled in all of us."

Karriem grew up with two older brothers and a younger sister, just 22 months behind him. His mother largely raised the four children on her own. As his brothers grew older and began lives of their own, there were years when Karriem was the only boy consistently in the house with his mother and sister.

His sister became his best friend.

"Everything that she was going through growing up, I'm standing right there with her," Karriem said.

He learned to listen. When his sister was upset, being told to leave did not always mean she wanted to be alone. When his mother was overwhelmed, he could help his sister understand that her frustration might have nothing to do with them.

"Mommy is not upset at you. She is not frustrated with you. She just got a lot of other stuff going on," Karriem recalled telling her.

With his brothers entering different stages of their own lives, Karriem spent about six years feeling like the man of the house.

"Growing up with two women, just alone, it's different," he said. "It definitely helped me a lot."

Then football took him farther from home.

Karriem committed to Illinois out of West Orange High School, where he had played both defensive back and wide receiver. New Jersey to the Midwest was an adjustment.

"Culturally, just being from New Jersey, going to the Midwest is just a different world," Karriem said. "Different way of life."

It took until well into his second year to feel comfortable. There were frustrations on the field, too. Karriem was not performing the way he wanted, and his coaches wanted more from him.

"We were both frustrated about the same thing," he said. "Being on the same side of the fence, having a common enemy, as far as performance."

Eventually, he settled in. Karriem appeared in 32 games across three seasons at Illinois, including all 13 as a junior.

Approaching what he expected to be his final college season, he began thinking about what he wanted the next one to look like. He entered the transfer portal with options.

One mattered more than the others: Home.

"I wanted my family to be able to walk me out on senior night," Karriem said. "That really was the biggest factor."

Temple also offered familiarity. Executive director of player personnel and recruiting Khalil Ahmad had known Karriem since his Pop Warner days.

Then there was the Linc. Karriem grew up an Eagles fan. When Temple brought him to Lincoln Financial Field during his visit, he had seen enough.

"Once they took me to the Linc, I was like, 'All right, guys, my visit can be done now,'" Karriem said. "I'm so serious."

He laughs about it now.

"I didn't even need to see the facility," he said. "I was coming."

Karriem arrived at Temple in January and quickly earned a place on the leadership council and one of the program's coveted single-digit jerseys.

But he is particular about how that happened.

"It wasn't handed to me," Karriem said. "I just went to work."

Entering a new locker room, he knew respect had to come before leadership.

"There's a level of respect that goes into environments like these when there's a bunch of alpha men," Karriem said. "The first thing, as someone that's new, you show respect."

Then he went to work.

"I had to go out there and work before I could begin to use my voice," he said.

Temple offensive lineman, Zach Aamland had seen that work before.

The two started their college careers together at Illinois, where Aamland remembers them holding each other accountable and regularly returning to the facility for extra work. They reunited at Temple this season.

"He's just great at pushing everyone around him to be their absolute best," Aamland said.

Aamland has seen that consistency away from the field, too. Karriem keeps a schedule, wakes at the same times to pray and follows a routine. He is also, Aamland said, someone he can sit down with and talk to about life.

For their age, Aamland considers him unusually wise.

"We've been able to form a really tight bond with each other," Aamland said. "We're just great with keeping each other in check and pushing each other to be the absolute best that we can."

Karriem expects that accountability to work both ways.

"If you feel as though I'm not holding my duties, tell me," Karriem said. "Don't be around me and not say something to me because you feel as though somebody else appointed me leadership."

The responsibility extends beyond Temple.

Over the summer, Karriem returned to his old high school to help run a football camp for children from kindergarten through 12th grade. Years earlier, he had attended similar camps held by Montclair native, longtime NFL linebacker, and part of the Temple single-digit fraterniy, Tahir Whitehead.

Now he was the player coming back.

"If anything, it's taught me that I need to be more mindful of my actions," Karriem said. "Knowing that someone is looking up to me."

He describes that responsibility another way.

"I set the standards for 'okay.'"

If someone who looks up to Karriem watches him do something, that action can become acceptable in their mind. His example is simple: the cold tub.

"Some days I don't want to get in a cold tub," Karriem said. "But if somebody sees me getting in the cold tub, something goes off in their head that inclines them to think, 'This is what I'm supposed to be doing because Saboor got in the cold tub.'"

His single-digit jersey carries the same responsibility.

"I wear those things with pride," Karriem said, "understanding somebody is always watching."

But responsibility has not made football feel heavier.

If anything, Karriem has become more conscious of enjoying it.

Earlier in his college career, there was a point when he considered doing something different. Eventually, he said, he "found a love for the game" again.

Now even a practice rep matters.

"Every play, every snap I get in practice, walkthrough, I am happy, and I'm gonna have fun," Karriem said.

He knows when the energy has to disappear and focus has to take over. But when Temple makes a play, Karriem wants to celebrate it.

"When we make plays, we celebrate, 'cause it's a party," he said. "Only the Lord knows how many more plays you gonna get."

He knows football has an expiration date.

"Every dog got its day," Karriem said. "I can't ball forever."

Maybe that is why his biggest dream has nothing to do with football.

He has carried it since he was about 13.

"I'm gonna be a great, extraordinary husband and father," Karriem said.

He wants to take football as far as he can, but its value to him is not exclusively monetary. It is in the relationships, experiences and people he can meet because of it.

"At a certain point, what is money to you?" Karriem said. "Football allows you to meet so many people and build so many relationships, and it's always been bigger than the monetary value of things."

For someone with a mirror full of goals, his definition of success is remarkably simple.

"I just want to be kind," Karriem said.

His mother is still there to watch the person he is becoming.

She traveled from New Jersey to Illinois throughout his first three college seasons. Now that football has brought him closer to home, she continues to follow him - including on the road to Toledo.

The woman who once kept him out of a high school football game because of two C's now watches him wear a single digit at Temple.

Karriem is still chasing the goals written on his mirror. But the sentence above them matters more.

It is not about what he gains. It is about who he becomes. 