The Ohio State graduate, who owns and operates the YouTube channel bearing his name, has posted 600-plus videos on the platform and has more than 62,000 subscribers who come to him for longform content.
Pehlke knows what it’s like to live two lives, one on camera and one behind it. After meeting up with Hammett to do a collaboration last summer, he learned surprising things about his contemporary.
“He’s a little more reserved,” Pehlke said. “When you play a character on social media, you’re that character when you meet fans on the street. And that’s the hard part of playing the character. When Drip King is offline, he’s just Caleb.”
Hammett was surrounded by social media long before The Drip King. His mother, Andrea, runs an interior design account on Instagram that boasts more than 120,000 followers. His sister, Abby, runs a fitness account that’s popular on both TikTok and Instagram.
In some ways, social media is in his blood. Lacrosse wasn’t always as front and center.
Growing up in Hanover, Mass., Hammett played just about every sport. Lacrosse was his No. 3 behind hockey and football. Going into sixth grade, he realized he could have a potential future in lacrosse, so he focused more on his craft.
He played for the lowest club team on Laxachusetts as an attackman and played one year before getting cut. He contacted Joe Nardella, then an assistant at nearby Harvard, who started teaching Hammett how to face off in eighth grade.
“Caleb is one of those kids who will do every single thing that you ask of him,” Nardella said.
Hammett went on to make Laxachusetts’ top team as a FOGO. It took him just three tournaments before he got an offer from Army in December of his freshman year at Hanover High School. The high of getting his first offer was overshadowed by ups and downs the following three seasons.
As a freshman, Hammett missed six months — including the summer club circuit — due to a partially torn tendon in his right wrist. As a sophomore, playing midfield and facing off, shin splints and a stress fracture forced him to miss most of the spring. He nearly made it through his entire junior season unscathed before a groin injury in his final playoff game held him out of another summer club circuit.
Contemplating his future, Hammett decommitted from West Point.
“When I was a freshman, I was very young,” Hammett said. “West Point’s one of the most prestigious schools. I loved the coaching staff there. When I became a junior, I had cold feet about serving. When you go there, you have to be 100-percent bought in. I think it was a blessing in disguise.”
Nardella was close with then-UMass assistant Craig McDonald, who is now the head coach at Robert Morris. He put McDonald and Hammett in touch with each other, and Hammett committed to stay close to home. Rejuvenated, Hammett was dialed in and named a captain for his senior season.
COVID-19 took it away before it could even start.
Hammett used the time off to prepare himself physically for UMass. He said he transformed himself and also used the down time to practice the standing neutral grip, which had just been adopted by the NCAA.
Two days before the first game of his freshman season, he took a slash in practice and broke his thumb. He tried to play through it but ultimately took 21 faceoffs over three games before shutting it down and redshirting.
The injury bug hasn’t bitten Hammett since, at least not in a major way. He went 185-for-301 (61.5 percent) as a redshirt freshman in 2022, making the All-CAA first team. He finished fifth in the nation in faceoff percentage. He then played in every game of 2023, winning 56.5 percent of his draws and earning a spot on the inaugural Atlantic 10 second team.
“He’s very resilient,” Nardella said. “Not everyone pans out taking a couple hundred reps in practice every week and then playing 15-20 games against grown men. I knew he’d be good.”
It helps to have substance behind the kind of attention that Hammett draws.
“When you’re doing well, it doesn’t bother you,” Nardella said. “When you’re doing poorly, it compounds. I give him a lot of credit for putting together [56.5 percent] despite it all.”
Hammett doesn’t think of himself as any different than the person who built a brand without a dollar in his pocket. When people tell him he’s famous, he says, “No, I’m not.”
The past year has been a whirlwind, and he thinks he’s grown as a man and become a better person through it all. He’s just trying to stay centered in the moment because he knows The Drip King can’t be around forever.
That’s why the chirps don’t bother Hammett all that much. It’s part of the deal. He’ll always be that in-state kid with a little bit of a chip on his shoulder, bringing fans back to Garber Field like it’s the 1970s.
“If I was on the other end of it, I’d probably try to chirp myself as much as I could,” he joked.
But if you come at the king, you best not miss. He’s got 2 million strong ready to come to his defense.