Greg Bryant's Tragic Death a Devastating End to His Inspiring New Beginning

I will always remember my last conversation with Greg Bryant. We spoke of football and life and second chances. He shared his deep affection for the game, his eagerness for a fresh start and his unrelenting aspiration to play in the NFL.

Having committed to play at UAB, he was anxious to join a new program that just so happened to be starting over. They both were, which in many ways made this pairing more appealing.

Bryant called me in December from Room 320 of the Hotel Roma Resort in Miami Gardens—the living situation he had endured for an entire semester. The very notion of spending his days in a dimly lit hotel was alarming, though he was able to laugh about it then. He would be leaving soon.

The last few months had drained him emotionally, and he opened up about just how difficult it was. How much he despised that cluttered, stuffy hotel room. How much he missed playing the game he loved in a place befitting his physical gifts.

He never once blamed anyone for his uncommon, winding journey. He accepted responsibility for how things ended at Notre Dame—how he arrived to this point of transition.

For every negative, there was a positive. For every misstep, there was a way to make things right. His voice was full of life and enthusiasm.

Even though I couldn't see his face, I could hear him smile.

When the conversation ended, I couldn't help but get swept up in the promise and potential. I couldn't help but leave with a rooting interest, which is not something we're supposed to do in this profession. I'll come clean now, I suppose. The idea that he could finally tap into his swimming pool of football potential was intoxicating.

But over the weekend, those possibilities were erased without an ounce of warning. Bryant was shot in the car he was driving on a Florida highway a few hours before sunrise Saturday. He was taken off life support and pronounced brain dead Sunday. Little is known about the events at this point beyond that the West Palm Beach Police Department views the senseless death as a homicide.

"To say it's taken a huge hit to us as a family, that's an understatement," Bryant's uncle, Allen Mosley, told reporters Monday. "We are literally devastated by this loss. I surmise that, at the end of it all, God needed a running back, and Greg's number was called."

Nam Y. Huh/Associated Press

Though his success at the collegiate level was moderate, the football world—in particular, the recruiting world—was deeply familiar with Bryant.

Back in 2013, he was the nation's No. 6 running back, according to 247Sports' composite ratings. Bryant was a dominant talent at American Heritage School in Delray Beach, Florida, and his commitment to the Irish made national news. He was going to transform their backfield.

Brian Kelly, Bryant's head coach at Notre Dame, released a statement over the weekend as the somber news spread.

"This is such a sad and tragic situation," Kelly said via Michael Bertsch, the Irish's director of football media relations. "My thoughts and prayers, as well as those of everyone associated with the University of Notre Dame and its football program, are with Greg's family at this incredibly difficult time."

Had Bryant played in South Bend, Indiana, last fall, perhaps his breakthrough could have come then. With so many injuries in the Notre Dame backfield, Bryant would have had an opportunity to shine.

In the two years leading up to last fall, however, he never established a rhythm—logging carries only here and there. Then, shortly before the 2015 season began, he was declared academically ineligible.

"I needed a B-plus in my summer school class," Bryant told me. "But I got a B-minus."

This prompted a move to ASA College Miami, which came out of desperation more than anything else. If Bryant wanted to play immediately, it would have to be at the JUCO level. He had waited long enough.

In the months that followed, he lived out of a suitcase in a hotel room he couldn't stand, eating canned or fast food for almost every meal. Worst of all, a paperwork snafu essentially sidelined Bryant for the entire season.

Image via Greg Bryant

"I'll keep it real," Bryant told me days before he moved out of the hotel. "This past year has been the hardest part of my life. Not playing football, going from the luxurious life at Notre Dame and coming back home and living in the hood at Miami while playing JUCO—it's been real tough."

Hope arrived from an unexpected place. It came when a dormant football program approached Bryant with open arms and an offer.

Because UAB's team was disbanded in December 2014—only to be reinstated months later—it will not play its next game until fall 2017. This crucial element—a snag in the sales pitch for many—seemed almost insignificant to Bryant as he weighed his options.

Suddenly, he didn't mind waiting. The wait was an opportunity. He could still practice. He could chisel his 200-pound frame into NFL form. He could get faster, stronger, better. And perhaps most important of all, he could work toward something more.

"It's a whole year of football, but it's better than sitting in a hotel. And I can possibly get my degree in 2016 going into 2017, and that's a dream come true," Bryant said. "Somebody like me getting a degree where I come from is unheard of."

Image via Greg Bryant

Bryant and former LSU linebacker Clifton Garrett—who also committed to the Blazers last year after spending a season at the JUCO level—stood as symbols of this tremendous rebuild.

They were the present and the future—the faces of a new generation and a bridge back to prominence. In the present, they were the sparks that head coach Bill Clark so desperately needed.

The benefits, at least in Bryant's situation, were mutual. As much as he meant to UAB, this opportunity was equally pivotal for him. This was a life raft in turbulent seas: a roof, warm meals each day and a loving coach anxious to help him reach where he wanted to go.

"He's basically changing my life right now," Bryant said of Clark. "He's giving me something from nothing."

While Bryant's football ceiling was still to be determined, this was the place that could help him realize what was out there. And if that ceiling was lower than what he hoped, he could nevertheless walk away from school with his diploma.

Everything had fallen into place. The situation was too perfect. Going back through our conversations, I could sense that he knew it, too.

"It's just such a hit to our program, his family, just everybody," Garrett told Bleacher Report on Sunday night. "He was such a great person, and he will definitely be missed. He was the one always bringing energy to our team."

The physical makeup was there—the size and speed coveted for running backs at this level and the next. He had a chip on his shoulder the size of Alabama coupled with a drive to maximize what was inside.

He could have been one hell of a running back. But football, the thing Bryant loved more than anything on this earth, now feels insignificant.

The death of a human being—a young man who sounded like he was starting to figure it out—transcends the sport he played. Sure, he was good at it, but he had other plans if football didn't work out.

Free of that hotel room, Greg Bryant was just happy to be heading to a school that wanted him—"a safe place," he called UAB—where he could pursue his dream to play at the next level and earn a degree.

It was such a perfect combination in every sense. It was right there in front of him. He was living it. But instead of anticipating what's next, we're left wondering what might have been.

Adam Kramer covers college football for Bleacher Report. You can follow him on Twitter @KegsnEggs.