Cache Perrett

All Gas, No Regrets: The Cache Perrett Story

From the five-year-old gym rat chasing his brothers to the kid who hit the impossible shot in front of a packed house, Cache has been chasing that feeling ever since.

Some players fall in love with basketball because of the game. Cache Perrett fell in love with the feeling. The sound of sneakers on hardwood. The crowd’s inhale before a shot. The chaos when it drops.

He started when he was five, following his brothers into gyms every weekend — sometimes playing, sometimes just watching, always studying. Then came the moment that changed everything: spring-ball provincials, everything on the line, and he went off. His brothers and friends were there, the crowd was loud, and for one night he couldn’t miss. “I remember the energy,” he says. “I’ve been obsessed with that feeling ever since.”

If that game lit the spark, the rivalry shot poured gasoline on it. Senior year. Crosstown showdown. The gym so full people were watching from the hallways. Down three. 3.8 seconds left. The coach draws up the play for him — the kind of moment every kid dreams about and almost nobody gets. Cache catches, spins, one-footed fadeaway from deep. Tie game. Bedlam. “Can’t even describe the feeling,” he says. “That was it. That was the moment I knew I’d never stop chasing that rush.”

Now, when practices drag or reps feel endless, he thinks back to the times he barely saw the floor — sitting on the bench, waiting, hoping. “I never want to be that guy again,” he says. “That’s what pushes me not to quit, not to skip reps.”

For Cache, basketball is more than competition — it’s family. “You see everyone at their lowest and their highest,” he says. “You go through everything together, and that bond lasts forever.”

Ask him what advice he’d give, and he doesn’t hesitate:

“Lay it all on the line. Give everything you’ve got if you’re passionate about it. That way, you’ll never have regrets. And if you actually do everything you can, there’s no way you won’t reach your goals.”

It’s not motivational-poster talk — it’s a code. The kind built in long road trips, empty gyms, and those wild, echoing moments when a ball drops through a net and a whole gym loses its mind.