Rykan Woo: No Headlines, No Shortcuts, Just Game

Ball in his hands. Defender leaning. One step, then two—gone. The jumper is clean, no hesitation, no wasted motion. Net snaps, but Rykan Woo isn’t watching. He’s moving, thinking, already setting up the next play. Some players celebrate the moment; Woo moves past it. The work isn’t done. The work is never done.

Basketball is memory. The ones who last in this game remember every slight, every doubt, every time someone looked at them and saw something less than a hooper. Woo remembers. He was the kid in Los Angeles looking for a run. The kid who moved to Chicago and had to start over, proving himself in a city that doesn’t hand out respect. The game has a way of testing those who say they want it. Woo didn’t ask for the test—he welcomed it.

"When I was younger, all I wanted was respect from other hoopers," he says. "Once I proved I could compete and belong, my focus shifted to playing at the highest level of basketball."

Respect isn’t loud. It doesn’t announce itself. It builds in the quiet hours, in the extra shots when no one is watching, in the losses that teach more than the wins. It forms in the way a player moves, how they carry themselves, how they respond when the game asks for more. Woo understands that better than most. He doesn’t chase the moment—he prepares for it.

As of January 18th, Woo is shooting nearly 60% from three on the season, the kind of efficiency that doesn’t happen by accident. Each shot is a result of repetition, of precision, of trust in the work. And it’s not empty numbers, either. He has Chicago’s top-ranked team, DePaul Prep, sitting at 18-1.

And the grind doesn’t stop when high school season ends. Woo, a 6’1” point guard in the class of 2026, runs with Illinois Wolves on the UAA Shoe Circuit, where the game moves faster, the pressure is heavier, and the expectations are higher. The competition demands a certain level of resilience, a mindset that separates those who play from those who understand how to win.

They don’t build this game for guards like him. The system loves its myths—the towering, freakishly gifted point guard, the scorer who can jump out of the gym. Woo doesn’t fit the mold, and that’s exactly why he’s rewriting it. His game isn’t built on flash; it’s built on control. He studies angles, sees plays before they happen, turns small openings into advantages. The players who last are the ones who understand the game as much as they feel it.

And it’s not just basketball. His discipline shows up in every part of his life. A 5.0 GPA at DePaul College Prep. National Honor Society. Not just a student, but a thinker, someone who approaches the game with the same focus he applies everywhere else. "I try to complete my homework as soon as I can," he says. "This gives me a lot more time to focus on basketball."

That’s not just routine. That’s balance. The understanding that greatness isn’t built in a single space but in the way everything connects. The way discipline off the court shapes composure on it.

He’s not here for empty numbers. No stat-padding, no hero ball. "I don’t focus too much on my individual goals," he says. "I believe that when you achieve your team goals, the individual goals will follow." That’s the Steph Curry in him, the understanding that winning—real winning—is bigger than box scores.

Game days, he’s locked in before the sun’s even up. "Before a game on a weekend, I usually try to work out and get shots up in the morning, then eat something light and mentally prepare myself before the game." It’s a rhythm now. The reps, the focus, the small moments that build toward something bigger.

The best ones don’t just practice. They study. They learn the game inside and out. They see plays before they happen. They make the simple look surgical. That’s Woo. He isn’t the loudest player on the floor, but he’s the one you have to worry about. Because by the time you realize what he’s doing, it’s already too late.

If you gave him an extra hour in his day, he wouldn’t use it to train. He wouldn’t watch film. He’d be with his family. That balance is everything. It’s the reminder that basketball is part of his identity, but not the whole thing. He’s got wisdom beyond his years, and he knows who he is. "A very influential person to me is Steph Curry because of how positive he is, and I try to be as similar to him as I can."

Legacy matters to him. What he builds at DePaul College Prep won’t just be measured in wins. "Off the court, I want to be remembered as a very kind and respectful student. On the court, I want to hopefully help my team win a state championship for DePaul Prep."

But the road to legacy isn’t easy. He’s made tough choices—like transferring from Whitney Young to DePaul Prep. "It was one of my toughest decisions that I didn’t want to do, but it is working out so far." Some people hesitate when they hit that crossroads. Woo moved forward. He always moves forward.

Now, the offers are coming. UC-Davis has already extended one. More will follow. But he’s not thinking about hype, about stars, about rankings. That’s for other people to debate. He’s focused on where he can grow. "I value the coaches, people, academics, atmosphere, and culture."

That’s the long game. That’s the difference between players who make noise for a year and players who last.

"I measure my progress on whether or not I know that I’m trying my best. I stay motivated to improve because I always feel like there is more work that I need to accomplish, and there is always more that I can learn and grow from."

Some players chase the moment. Woo prepares for it.

Some people want respect. Woo earns it.

And if you haven’t been paying attention, now’s the time to start.

Follow Rykan Woo on social media:
Instagram: @rykanwoo
Twitter/X: @rykanwoo