Lem Garcia was always the smallest kid on the court.
The youngest of three brothers, he spent his childhood competing against players who were bigger, stronger, and older. Basketball was more than just a pastime—it was a constant test of skill, resilience, and determination. Every game mattered. Every shot counted. For Garcia, keeping up was never enough. He had to outwork everyone or risk being left behind.
Then, in eighth grade, everything changed.
Over one summer, he grew nearly a foot, suddenly standing six feet tall. Yet the game did not become easier. He still wasn't the fastest. He still wasn't the strongest.
"I thought getting taller would change everything," Garcia reflects. "But the truth was, I still had to outwork everybody. I wasn't going to win on size or talent—I had to win on effort."
Failure Was Never Final
Sixth-grade basketball tryouts ended in disappointment. Garcia stood in front of the list, scanning the names—once, twice, three times. His name wasn't there.
"I ran to the bathroom, locked the door, and cried," he recalls. "Right then, I made a promise—I'd work so hard that I'd never feel that way again."
He kept that promise, but it still wasn't enough.
Seventh-grade tryouts resulted in another cut. He finally made the team in eighth grade, only to be cut again in tenth. Most would have walked away. Most would have found a new path.
But quitting was never an option.
He made the team again in eleventh grade. Played varsity in twelfth, not because of raw talent but because of a relentless work ethic.
"Every time I got cut, it just made me want it more," Garcia says. "I wasn't the most talented, but I refused to let someone else outwork me. I wasn't going to quit just because it got tough."
He trained before practice. He stayed after. He put in extra reps when no one was watching. He got stronger, faster, more skilled. The effort transformed him—not just physically, but mentally.
Michael Jordan became the blueprint.
Kobe Bryant became the standard.
Garcia studied their habits, their mindsets, and their approach. If he couldn't be them, he could think like them.
That's when it became clear—this was bigger than basketball.
Taking the Mamba Mentality to Law School
In high school, Garcia knew his basketball dream was coming to an end. There were no scouts, no scholarships, no professional future waiting for him. But the work ethic, the discipline, and the drive to outwork the competition? That didn't have to end.
"If I wasn't going to be the best basketball player, I could still be the best at something," Garcia says.
That something was law.
But law school presented a new challenge. His LSAT score wasn't remarkable. He wasn't entering with the highest credentials. The statistics were daunting—roughly one in four law students don't make it past the first year.
He refused to be part of that statistic.
"I knew that if I didn't outwork everyone, I could be one of those dropouts," Garcia says. "So I did the only thing I knew how to do—I worked."
Every morning, he arrived at the library by 6:55 a.m., even though his first class didn't start until 9. He stayed until the lights went off at 9 p.m.
First one in, last one out.
"If I wanted to be successful, I had to do more than everyone else," he says. "It was the only way I could compete."
That mindset paid off.
He graduated with top grades, a full scholarship, and a seat on law review.
Building a Law Firm Like an Athlete
Starting a law firm required the same underdog mentality he had on the basketball court. There were no advantages. No shortcuts. No handouts. Everything had to be earned.
So Garcia treated it like a full-court press.
He wasn't just a lawyer—he was:
A writer, crafting every piece of marketing himself.
A photographer, capturing high-quality shots for branding.
A graphic designer, building his own website, brochures, and ads.
A salesman, learning how to connect with clients and earn their trust.
"In basketball, you don't just work on your shot," Garcia explains. "You work on everything—your footwork, your defense, your conditioning, your vision. I treated my law firm the same way. If there was a skill I needed, I learned it."
But the goal wasn't just to develop skills—it was to put in a full day of work.
"If I wasn't the first car in the parking lot, I felt like I was already behind," Garcia says. "And if I left before the cleaning crew started vacuuming, I felt like I failed the day. That was my gauge."
"When I heard that vacuum running through the office, that's when I knew—I did what I needed to do today. I could go home knowing I gave everything I had."
Acknowledging the Team Behind the Success
No success is achieved alone.
Without his wife, Therese, Garcia's vision for his firm would not have become reality.
"She's been there to support and challenge me from the very beginning," he says. "She helped build the office, kept everything together, and became my strength where I have weaknesses. Without her, the firm wouldn't be where it is today."
And then there's the team.
"Every new level we reach, every review we get, every case we win—it's thanks to them," Garcia says. "Their talent, hard work, right attitude, patience, and resilience—through the good and bad times—make all the difference."
A basketball player is only as strong as the team around him. A law firm is no different.
Still the First One In, Still the Last One Out
Today, Garcia's firm is thriving.
Million-dollar settlements.
Five-star reviews.
A reputation as one of the most trusted personal injury firms in Southern California.
But the work never stops.
"If someone else is working, I'm working too. If there's more to be done, I'm doing it."
"Some might say I overdo it. Maybe they're right," Garcia says. "But I'd rather demand too much of myself than not enough."
The game isn't over.
And as long as there's more to do, more to prove, and more potential to reach—
He will still be the first one in.
And the last one out.
