“I came at a bad point, to be honest,” Richardson said. “Literally the day I moved — then two days we had a game. So I was kind of like all over the place. I didn’t know any of the plays.”
It’s a tough way to join an Ohio program that doesn’t do slow starts — not with a roster built around state-title expectations and a locker room full of household names in the Cincinnati area.
Richardson, a 5-foot-9 sophomore guard, came from North Carolina after his father, Kareem Richardson, joined Xavier’s men’s basketball staff in 2025. Kareem is now in his second assistant coaching stint with the Musketeers
On the other side, Lakota West coach Kelven Moss said the connection happened fast.
It didn’t come through some long, choreographed recruiting chase. It was a referral and a phone call — and then a kid showing up with something Moss couldn’t ignore.
“It evolved,” Moss said of Richardson’s role. “He started just showing me this huge chip that he has on his shoulder — a competitive edge that we need to add to our roster.”
Moss wasn’t interested in a shortcut to the rotation just because Richardson is a coach’s son. There wasn’t “tons and tons of film on him” in advance, he said, and Lakota West already had its own standards.
The Firebirds reached the Division I state semifinals a season ago. They’re No. 1 in the state at 19-1 this season and have already clinched the Greater Miami Conference title.
So Richardson did the only thing that works in a veteran program.
He competed.
“He worked for his spot,” Moss said. “He was pushing guys like Josh Tyson and Bryce Curry. He was communicating at an elite level.”
At first, Moss said, Richardson was “kind of like the Lone Ranger” — guarded, disconnected, playing like he had something to prove on every possession.
The move was real. The adjustment was real. The pressure of stepping into a loaded lineup was real.
And then, slowly, the kid stopped competing against everyone and started completing the team.
“I had been working really hard to just gain the coach’s trust and gain my teammates’ trust,” Richardson said. “During the summer, they didn’t really know my game.
“I just had to get myself back, had to get my shot back.”
This season, Richardson has started 17 of Lakota West’s first 20 games — he’s played in all of them — averaging 6.2 points in 18.2 minutes and has been nearly automatic at the line going 26-for-29 (89.7%).
Still, his story at Lakota West isn’t just about the numbers. It’s about learning how to belong in a place that already knows what it wants to be — and finding a way to add to it.
“I did the research,” Richardson said of joining a roster packed with top-end talent. “I was very excited when I found out that I was playing with the players I’m playing with right now.”
The switch, the stage, the free throws
On paper, it’s easy to spot Richardson’s cleanest statistic — three missed free throws all season.
In real life, it’s harder — because the moments that made that number matter didn’t come in quiet gym air. They came with noise, pressure and legs threatening to lock up.
Moss said Richardson plays with what he calls a “weird switch.”
“Sometimes he may not show you in practice,” Moss said. “But he’s a gamer. He turns it on when game time arrives.”
That switch showed itself on one of the biggest regular-season stages the Greater Miami Conference has seen in recent years.
Lakota West’s win over Princeton at Cintas Center, a night that felt like a preview of March. Richardson scored 12 points and handed out three assists as the Firebirds snapped Princeton’s win streak and strengthened their league position.
Richardson’s own line from that night reads like a pressure test — 28 minutes, 12 points, 5-for-5 at the foul line.
But the box score doesn’t show the part where Richardson cramped during free throws, then looked to the bench and asked about being subbed — not because he wanted out, but because his body was waging its own fight.
Moss said Richardson has sickle cell trait, which leads to cramping issues that flare during games and practices.
“Every game, every game,” Moss said. “Practice, everything.”
“It’s awful,” Richardson echoed.
So Lakota West manages it in real time — fluids, salts, bench routines — whatever keeps him functional while the game demands toughness.
“I have great people around me,” Richardson said. “They keep my head straight. They know what I got to do and they help me a lot.”
That’s the thread that runs through Richardson’s season. The competitive edge is obvious, but it’s paired with a steadier confidence than most sophomores carry.
Moss sees it. Opponents see it. And Richardson, a guard raised around high-level basketball, sounds like it when he talks.
“Age doesn’t really matter when it comes to basketball,” Richardson said. “As long as if you’re on the basketball court, it’s 10 people on the basketball court.”
Even his “welcome to Ohio” moment came with the kind of calm that makes coaches trust a young guard.
Down the stretch against Princeton, with a crowd and momentum tugging the game in different directions, he didn’t hesitate at the line.
He finished.
“I think I prayed like four times before that game,” Richardson said. “I just believed in my team and my team believed in me.”
More control, more edge, more trust
Lakota West’s roster will always start the conversation with its stars — and Moss doesn’t pretend otherwise. Curry and Tyson are two of the top players in the state in the class of 2027.
But Moss also knows what tournament basketball does. It squeezes the floor, takes away first options and forces role players into starring roles.
“We want those role players to step up and just be stars in a role,” Moss said, rattling off names and then landing back on Richardson. “Just sprinkle a little bit more and you make us really hard to beat.”
The “sprinkle” Moss wants isn’t random for Richardson. It’s specific.
As Lakota West looks ahead, Moss sees Richardson’s future as a true pace controller — a facilitator good enough to shift the offense without shifting the team’s identity.
“We want to get Josh off the ball a little bit more,” Moss said. “We want him to be an elite facilitator — getting paint touches, spraying that ball out to the shooters, finding guys, controlling the pace.”
Richardson describes his role similarly, even if he’s still living it one possession at a time.
“My role is just to be the point guard,” Richardson said. “Run the offense and play excellent defense and get my teammates involved. I got to be an extra coach on the court.”
The defense is already there, Moss said — almost too much at times.
“He can guard his butt off,” Moss said. “We’re working on him being a tad more disciplined because he gets a little antsy and reaches. He loves to put on the show for the crowd.”
That’s Richardson in a sentence. Edgy, energy, and the confidence to try something bold — even if the next step is learning when the simple play is the best play.
It helps that he’s surrounded by basketball — not just at Lakota West, but at Xavier, where he spends plenty of time around the program and his father who’s “my number one supporter,” Richardson said.
“It just encourages my game. Anytime I mess up, I can look over and he’s giving me encouragement or giving me some boost of knowledge from the game.”
For Moss, the most important growth has nothing to do with a stat line. It’s the way Richardson has let himself be coached — and let himself be part of the group.
“You don’t know what you’re in for when you’re dealing with a college coach’s kid,” Moss said. “But he’s letting me coach him.”
That trust, Moss believes, is what turns a transfer into a Firebird — and what turns a sophomore guard into a difference-maker when March starts taking names.
And for Richardson, it’s the same belief that carried him from a rushed move and unfamiliar plays into a starting spot on a loaded team.
“They make me look better,” he said of his teammates. “I make them look better.
“The best thing that comes out of all of this is that we’re going to win.”
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