GREEN BAY, Wis. -- It's not so much of an obsession as it is a culture.

In the brisk fall and winter months in Green Bay, there is Sunday and the six days before the next Sunday. The plethora of Green Bay Packers gear worn by the devoted goes beyond coats and jackets. Men and women sport team colors on their ties, socks and forearms.

The key to recruiting Keifer Sykes was to make sure you got on the good side of his father, James. Courtesy of Sykes family

The Resch Center sits within the orbit of nearby Lambeau Field, the legendary home of the Packers. The former is where Horizon League favorite UW-Green Bay faces Division II Minnesota-Duluth in early December at a venue populated by a smattering of folks covered in green and gold.

This is also where a Chicagoan named Keifer Sykes has managed to mold himself into an NBA prospect and a local icon. Kids chase him for autographs after games. Green Bay Mayor Jim Schmitt gave him a key to the city after watching him interact with fans during a charity event.

"I think he's real popular," said Alfonzo McKinnie, his teammate and best friend since high school. "He's got his picture up in Applebee's."

But how did he end up starring for a mid-major in the middle of Wisconsin? Well, father knows best.

James Sykes imagined this success for his son. The blue-collar father who never missed his son's games -- hell, he rarely missed a practice -- trusted the Green Bay coaching staff and its ability to nurture his son's skills and quality of life.

Now, the senior is averaging 17.9 PPG, 4.3. RPG, 3.6 APG and 1.7 SPG for 12-3 Green Bay.

He's also an Internet legend due to his sensational above-the-rim acrobatics. He didn't dunk for the first time in a game until his senior year of high school. Before that, he was barely flushing on a 9-foot rim nestled into an alley near his family's home on the East Side of Chicago.

He's ruthless now, though.

"When I see someone standing under the rim, I see through them," Sykes said. "I try to go and finish."

In the preseason, he flew over teammate Kerem Kanter on a dunk that went viral, the norm for Keifer. And he nearly embarrassed Wisconsin's Frank Kaminsky when he attempted a slam over the 7-footer in a matchup between the Badgers and the Phoenix in mid-November.

Thank God that @keifer1124 missed that dunk. Would have ruined my confidence as a basketball player. — Frank Kaminsky III (@FSKPart3) November 20, 2014

Phoenix coach Brian Wardle had Keifer pegged as the third- or fourth-best prospect in Green Bay's 2011 recruiting class. Today, Keifer's dexterity, agility, quickness and athleticism have impressed some NBA scouts. A solid showing at the Chris Paul skills camp last summer helped, too. He's an All-America candidate for the second consecutive season.

His quest began with a hoop on the side of his garage.

That's where James Sykes would shout commands to the smallish point guard.

Shoot. Dribble. Dunk.

"In games, it was the same way," Sykes said. "It was like an echo. I feel like I can hear his voice -- no matter whose voice, no matter how big the gym was -- I could just hear his voice."

Wardle tracked Sykes after watching him compete in limited minutes for a Mac Irvin Fire grassroots squad that featured some of the nation's best players. Sykes admits that the collection of talent on the Chicago scene -- Louisville's Wayne Blackshear and Ohio State's Sam Thompson were on his team -- intimidated him.

"I don't think I was ready to compete at that level," he said. "It was a learning experience for me."

As he improved, however, his options increased. But Wardle, and the other coaches who pursued him, didn't have to recruit Keifer. They had to recruit James Sykes.

"I had to get to know James," Wardle said.

James Sykes was Keifer's guide. McKinnie thought he'd convinced his buddy to come to Eastern Illinois, his first school. But James Sykes picked Wardle and the Phoenix.

"They know that they won my dad over, that's really how they got me," Keifer said. "I just remember my dad calling me 20 times [and saying], 'Man, I like them,' the day I committed."

James Sykes was the one who helped Keifer develop. He was the one who taught him about manhood -- lessons Keifer passes down to his own son, 4-year-old Keifer Sykes Jr., and younger relatives.

He was also his protector.

Keifer Sykes learned the game from his father, James. He's still playing the way his father taught him. Courtesy of Sykes family

"Any time of the night, if we came in the house, his dad would wake up [even if] it was 1 a.m.," McKinnie said. "'Keifer is that you?' His dad couldn't go to sleep unless he knew Keifer was in the house."

In the middle of the night, the summer after Keifer's freshman season with the Phoenix, he received a call from one of his brothers.

James Sykes had suffered a heart attack.

He was gone.

Wardle rushed to the dorms after he received a call from Keifer's mother. He found the young man sobbing on the floor of his bathroom. Wardle had encountered adversity but nothing like that.

He loved Keifer. And he also loved James Sykes.

"All I remember is just sitting there, hugging him," Wardle said. "I felt for him. [James Sykes] was a rock for Keifer and that family."

Friends and family members tried to comfort Keifer. Help him stay focused. They offered their sympathies and condolences.

But they didn't fully understand. How could they?

The only reason that Keifer had gone to UW-Green Bay, the only reason he'd elevated above that 9-foot rim in the alley, the only reason he'd overachieved on the basketball court was because James Sykes told him he could.

To Keifer, the game wasn't about dunks and highlights and YouTube clips. It was about validating everything that James Sykes believed.

"At one point, I didn't feel like I had anything to play for," Keifer said. "I feel like everything I played for was to give back to my dad."

Keifer used the time after his father's death to reflect on one of the greatest gifts James Sykes had given him: a sense of responsibility.

For his life. His career. His young son. His family.

Keifer couldn't quit. That would have gone against everything James Sykes had taught him.

It's been more than two years since Keifer crumbled on that bathroom floor and mourned his father's death. But he's thankful for James Sykes' life. He writes "R.I.P. Dad" on his game socks. A broad tattoo on his right forearm bears his father's name.

Keifer believes that James Sykes sent him to Green Bay because he knew the staff, the team and the community would cradle him in both fruitful and tough times.

He was right.

Keifer is not one of the Packers, but children still whisper and giggle whenever he enters a restaurant. Fans arrive early for Green Bay's warm-ups, hoping to see Keifer twirl, reverse or both on one of his signature dunks. They ask to take selfies with him.

Sometimes his postgame autograph sessions run late and end only when the facilities manager at the Resch Center shuts them down because he has to turn off the lights. Those young fans would stay all night if they could.

That's the experience James Sykes desired for his son.

"That was one of the signs when my dad died," Sykes said. "Maybe he really wanted me to come here because he left me in good hands."