Basketball has always been a family language for Travis Harper II.

It was spoken in Columbus, Georgia, long before box scores and scouting reports, in driveway workouts and film-room conversations that stretched across generations. It followed "Deuce" Harper from a Division II gym at Clayton State to Tennessee State, where, in his second season with the Tigers, he is playing the most complete basketball of his career.

For Harper, a 6-foot-6 guard, the journey has never been about shortcuts. It has been about patience, development and trusting that his path — even when it detoured — would lead exactly where it was supposed to.

"I took a chance on myself," Harper said. "I knew what I could become. I just needed time."

That belief was forged in Columbus — the small Georgia town where basketball players grow up knowing one another, reputations travel fast, and where John Pemberton first concocted his French Wine Coca, later known as Coca-Cola.

"If you play basketball, everybody knows you," Harper said. "There's a lot of love in that city. People supported me even if I didn't know them personally."

Harper grew up surrounded by the game. His father, Travis Harper Sr., starred at the University of Alabama at Birmingham (UAB) in the early 1990s, playing on a Blazers team that reached the NIT consolation game in 1992-93 and advanced to the NCAA Tournament the following season. His brother, Tristan, followed suit and now plays professionally overseas, while the eldest Harper sibling, Terry, practices dentistry in Washington, D.C.

Competition in the Harper household was constant.

"It was never easy," Harper said. "Me and my brother fought all the time playing one-on-one. But that's what made me better. I was always playing older guys, stronger guys."

His father made sure of it. Harper Sr., who still lives in Columbus, has been breaking down his son's game since Travis II learned how to walk. That routine continues today — even from several states away.

"He watches every game on ESPN+," Harper said. "After every game, he calls me and diagnoses my film — what I did well, what I could've done better. He doesn't miss anything."

While his father analyzes from afar, Harper's mother, Dawn Jenkins, — who taught Deuce to play Tennis — is a regular presence in the stands. A school administrator who now lives in Huntsville, Alabama, she attends as many Tennessee State games as possible, providing a steady, familiar face during long stretches of the season.

"That support means everything," Harper said. "Knowing my mom's in the crowd and my dad's watching back home — it keeps me grounded."

Despite a decorated high school career in Georgia, Harper's recruiting path did not unfold traditionally. Tennessee State offered him out of high school — twice — before circumstances finally aligned.

COVID reshaped college basketball recruiting, limiting evaluations and extending rosters. Rather than force a Division I decision prematurely, Harper chose Clayton State, a Division II program close to home, where he could develop physically and mentally.

"That was about growth," Harper said. "I wasn't ready yet. I needed to get better."

At Clayton State, Harper redshirted and steadily refined his game. By the end of his sophomore season, the player Tennessee State had recruited twice was ready to make the jump.

When the Tigers called again, Harper didn't hesitate.

"I loved how family-oriented it felt," he said. "The coaches showed me a lot of love. It felt like home."

Harper joined a Tennessee State program led by Brian "Penny" Collins, who had recruited him dating back to high school and trusted him to fill a defined role as a shooter and defender. His first season in Nashville was solid but unsatisfying by his own standards, as he averaged just over 10 points per game in a veteran lineup.

"I knew I could do more," Harper said.

That mindset carried into the offseason. Harper spent months reshaping his game — tightening his handle, improving his efficiency and preparing for greater responsibility.

When Collins departed for the NBA and Nolan Smith was hired as head coach, Harper again faced a decision. Instead of entering the transfer portal, he stayed.

"I wanted to hear him out," Harper said. "Once I did, I knew this was someone I wanted to play for."

Under Smith, Harper's role expanded. The trust followed quickly.

"I don't think he knew everything I could do at first," Harper said. "But once we started playing, he gave me the freedom. That means a lot."

This season, Harper has delivered. He has emerged as one of the Ohio Valley Conference's most productive scorers, nearly doubling his scoring average while shooting close to 50 percent from the field. His confidence, once streaky, is now steady.

"That's consistency," Harper said. "Last year, I could have 28 one game and two the next. This year, I don't care if they key in on me. I believe I can do it again."

The growth has not gone unnoticed. NBA scouts have begun tracking Harper's progress, validating a journey that began far from the spotlight.

For Harper, the recognition is humbling — and deeply personal.

"I think about my family," he said. "My mom, my dad, my brothers and my girlfriend. I think about Columbus. It's bigger than basketball."

That perspective came full circle earlier this season in Knoxville, when Tennessee State faced Tennessee — coached by Rick Barnes, the same coach Harper Sr. faced in the 1993 NIT third-place game while leading Providence.

Two generations. One coach. One game.

"That's crazy," Harper said. "Basketball really does come full circle."

As Harper plays what could be the final season of his college career, he does so with gratitude and clarity. Off the court, he unwinds with video games, Netflix and an unexpected hobby — collecting cologne. On it, he plays with the confidence of someone who understands exactly how hard it was to get here.

"I'm just trying to stay consistent," Harper said.

Consistency, family and belief — the same values shaped in Columbus — now define him at Tennessee State. And for Travis Harper II, the long way has proven to be the right way.