Just for Kicks

Sneakers determine status in the hood. Clothes and jewelry do as well, but the sneaker craze begins during childhood. In grade school, for instance, a child can get by with wearing a button up and jeans that don't have a popular name brand as long as they're clean and the ensemble fits. That doesn't meet the ire of other children quite like wearing a pair of fake Nikes or Adidas. A kid with a fourth stripe (instead of three) on his sneakers will have a hard time everyday in school without fail. As a matter of fact, instead of being known by his actual name, the locals might take to calling him "Faux-didas."

In September of this past year, I went shopping with my mother who wanted to buy sneakers for her grandchildren (my nieces and nephews). Since I'm not that far removed from the period of my life where sneakers determined friendships, I took my role on this trip very seriously. Minutes into our foray through the mall, my mother decided to visit Stride Rite. I quickly intervened.

I explained to her that Stride Rite is cool for my youngest niece who's five years old, but there's no way in hell the older ones could be expected to wear anything from that store to school. Even though she raised two sneaker crazed boys, my mother almost subjected her grandchildren to some rough days at school. Although I'm way beyond the days of caring about wearing the most up to date sneakers, I still remember the sneaker code. I don't believe in it, but one person can't save thousands of children from being ridiculed...

Having grown up in the hood, Lebraun is no different in this regard. Even though he's always broke, his sneakers tend to be fresh. During the basketball season, Lebraun's sneakers were a bit worn but he went out and bought a new pair of Nikes before the season was over despite his meager finances.

These days Lebraun is in really tough shape. His aunt and uncle asked him to leave, so he's now staying on his sister's sofa in a one bedroom apartment. He's also unemployed. Weeks after I sent him to the Dean of Students to get a subsidized $60 gift card to Stop and Shop because of his dire circumstances, I checked in with Lebraun about his work situation.

Me: Did you go to that job training I told you about?
Lebraun: Nah. I couldn't make it.
Me: Why not?
Lebraun: I didn't have a ride.
Me: Come on, man. You could have asked me for a ride. This is serious! You aren't working and I know what cats do when they're struggling. You could've gotten a job out of that seminar. I explained that to you.
Lebraun: My fault, Coach, but I been applyin' to other jobs.
Me: That's good. Where have you applied?
Lebraun: I went to the mall and applied to Footlocker, Finish Line, and Olympia.

Robbin' Hood

Kindess is often mistaken for weakness. When I started coaching, I had no problem being a cab service for my team. I've played the role of a mover, hauling mattresses and suitcases up several flights of stairs for players moving in and out of apartments. I've been pseudo-parent--running individuals to the Emergency Room with various ailments. With each year that passes, however, I've been less inclined to perform these acts of kindness because Bubblees can't help but take advantage of those who seek to help them.

"Hood" has never played for me. The past couple of years he has attempted to enroll at the college to join the team, but something always seems to go wrong for Hood. Prior to these failed attempts to be admitted here, I only knew of Hood because he was the best high school player in this city several years ago. The last time he walked a straight line, unfortunately, was when he strolled across the stage to accept his High School diploma. His life has been a total mess since then.

Today, Hood is a broke and unemployed father of one who recently got out of jail. A few months before he got locked up I invited him to campus for open gym. After accepting my invitation to play and talk about enrolling in the Fall, he didn't show up for his appointment. His name randomly came up months later when a Correctional Officer called to advocate for one of his inmates who was interested in playing basketball at the college. I quickly realized he was talking about Hood.

When Hood came out of high school, he decided to attend a Community College an hour away from here. Like most kids in this city (and high school graduates, in general), Hood wanted to get away from home to shed the negative influences that had weighed him down. The school Hood was attending didn't have dorms, so the Coach took him.into his home. By all means, this had the possibility of being a great situation for Hood.

Things went awry for him, however. Not only did Hood bomb academically (.67 GPA), he also managed to torch his relationship with the Coach.

Me: What happened with Hood at your school?
DS: What didn't happen?!? That kid is something else!
Me: He's looking to enroll here and I'm trying to determine how many classes he needs to qualify.
DS: Oh man. He didn't do squat in the classroom here. Truth be told, that kid has major learning issues. Coach, I'd teach him the most basic things on the court, like a v-cut, and he couldn't do it. It was amazing. His learning issues are severe.
Me: Really? A v-cut?? 
DS: Lemme tell you, Coach. I hope things can work out for him up there. I'm not the type to wish anything bad on a kid, but that kid doesn't deserve help from anybody. I would've given that kid the clothes off my back.
Me: What happened?
DS: He stole from me. Money was coming up missing all the time, and I didn't wanna blame him so I planted a camera near my safe. Low and behold, I caught him on camera raiding my bedroom for money! I told him he could either leave immediately, or I'd press charges on him. He stole hundreds from me!

Wishing on a Star

People who have difficulty owning failure are bound to fall repeatedly. My mother taught me that many years ago. It's her personal branding statement, if you will. I've attempted to pass this truth down to my players because it's the primary reason most of them struggle through life. Somebody else is usually to blame when they mess up.  

Tiny was the best high school point guard in the area during his senior year. When I watched him play as a sophomore, I felt like he could start for my team. He was that good. I assumed back then that he would be a Division II recruit at the least as a senior, but I was wrong. Only three Division III schools knocked at his door, and none of the programs were elite by any means.

I saw this as a major recruitment opportunity. In general, it's extremely rare for a special point guard to fall into a coach's lap. Tiny definitely fit the bill as a "Prime Time Player." He would have easily been the best point guard in our region. My feeling was that he just needed some more exposure on a winning team to get some Division II offers. With this in mind, I scheduled a meeting with Tiny at his high school to make my pitch. It goes without saying that I was excited about the possibility of bringing him aboard!

My intuition has rarely failed me. It's scary how often I've been right about my assessment of a prospective player's personality long before he has suited up for a game. I try to feel for their energy and I hang on to every word they say. Any time a guy blames somebody else (namely a coach or teacher), for example, I expect major problems to ensue.

Me: You're settling if you go to any of those D3 schools that have spoken to you.
Tiny: I know. I'm looking into prep schools and possibly the JUCO route. People say I should look at playing football too, but I ain't really feelin' football like that.
Me: I didn't realize you played football.
Tiny: Yup. I played for a year and a half. I quit my sophomore year because the coach sucked. I played this year too but I don't get into football like that.
Me: Oh okay. If the prep school options are too expensive, you know you could come to us for free, right?
Tiny: Really?
Me: Yup. You get free lunch here. Your guidance counselor told me. Because of that you'd get a full ride to play for us.
Tiny: That's real good. I didn't know that.
Me: Lemme ask you a question, though. Why do you have a 1.7 GPA?
Tiny: I messed up my sophomore year. Just didn't  take school serious and plus, my Guidance Counselor messed me up.
Me: How?
Tiny: She told me to take College level classes even though those can't really help me get into the type of schools I want. They were cupcake classes.
Me: If they were so easy, why'd you get Ds in all of em?
Tiny: The teachers were horrible.

Falling Down

Basketball saves lives. It's a life-line for many boys and girls, even adults. People define themselves through the sport. Those who have an aversion to basketball (and sports, in general) don't get that. They simply see a couple of hoops, some lines, an orange ball, and a bunch of players running around. For countless basketball players, it's about so much more. The allure of commraderie, sweatsuits, sneakers, uniforms, and accolades is invigorating. It's their raison d'etre.

K-Solo was selected as a team Captain by his peers midway through the season. In addition to having a strong grade point average (2.67) in four college level courses, he consistently brought a very serious attitude to practices and games. Beyond that, K-Solo rightfully earned the respect and admiration of his teammates (and the coaching staff) because of the way he had turned his life around.

Throughout the season K-Solo had some legal matters to deal with (re: "Friday" post). He had to go to court on multiple occasions for a case that kept being continued. On top of that, he also had to visit regularly with his probation officer. Despite the stress of dealing with possible jail time, K-Solo found a way to successfully juggle school work, a part-time job, and playing on the basketball team. He later attributed his new attitude to why he was able to avoid time behind bars.

This renaissance didn't last long, however. K-Solo started dodging me once the season ended. When I saw two Fs posted on his mid-term report, I requested a meeting with him to assess the problem. His eyes were glossy when he walked in.

Me: What's up with your grades?
K-Solo: I know. They suck.
Me: I can see that. Why is that?
K-Solo: I don't have books for my classes.
Me: Why not?
K-Solo: I never went to get them.
Me: Because???
K-Solo: There's no reason. Just slackin, I guess.

His slide didn't stop there, unfortunately. Prior to the season, I had set him up with a job at the Athletic Center. Since I hadn't seen him for a couple of weeks, I decided to visit him at work. He was sitting at his usual post when I entered the building from his blind side. As I approached and he caught a glimpse of me, he took off as if he had stolen something. I figured he was on duty so I started chatting with his Supervisor while I waited for him to return.

Me: Is K-Solo on duty today?
Supervisor: No.
Me: Oh? I just saw him in the building.
Supervisor: He doesn't work here anymore.
Me: Did he quit?
Supervisor: No. He was fired after 3 straight no-call, no-shows.

Captain Hook

It's not a coincidence that trouble rhymes with bubble. There are one of two ways that Bubblees get into trouble. They're either starting it, or they're around it. Some Bubblees are instigators. They get off on agitating people and creating problems. The other Bubblees are unfortunate victims of their surroundings since they roll mostly, if not exclusively, with dramatic people. Lanky falls into the latter category.

There's a continuum in the Bubble. All Bubblees are alike in that they live in a fantasy. From there, the level of "Bubbling" varies and it's based on intelligence.

At one end of the continuum, we have somebody like Doedoe who allegedly robbed somebody in broad daylight down the street from his apartment. He has a very low level of intelligence and only rolls with Bubblees.

In the middle, there's Flash who has real goals and attempts to work towards them but happens to be his own worst enemy. He's relatively intelligent but is hampered by a severe inability to follow through on anything.

At the threshold of the Bubble is an individual like Lanky who's very intelligent and ambitious. Unfortunately, he hangs around enough Bubblees that it tends to create problems for him and influence his actions. 

Coming out of high school, Lanky was a decent basketball player, at best. I thought he was going to be a solid bench player on the team. To my surprise, he emerged as a starter during his Freshman season and finished the year averaging just under 13 points per game. In his sophomore season, he improved dramatically. As a 6 foot guard he lead the team in points (19.1 ppg) and rebounds (10.1 rpg). His drastic improvement was rewarded with a unanimous All New England First-Team Selection. Only the top six players in the region are given this honor. The players who are selected get to compete at a showcase in front of many college scouts.

Weeks after the season ended, during Spring Break, Lanky got into some trouble. I contacted him after seeing an alarming post on his facebook page.

Me: What's up with your fb status?
Lanky: Oh. You saw that?
Me: Why wouldn't I?
Lanky: I don't know. I didn't realize you'd be paying attention.
Me: What happened?
Lanky: I went to the club with my boys and this dude just pushed me for no reason.
Me: And?
Lanky: I broke his nose! I bet you he'll never push somebody in the club again!

Lanky fractured two bones in his shooting hand, so it's unlikely that he'll be able to compete in the All-Region game.

Unwritten Rule

Few people are trustworthy to have as friends. The state of humanity is really sad in that regard. In one moment you're breaking bread with a longtime friend, then the next thing you know he's stealing hundreds of dollars from you. That actually happened to me. I wasn't all that surprised when it occurred because this same person stood before God and took vows as a husband then cheated on his wife. My mom taught me to look at people and situations like algebraic equations: If your friend is willing to betray another friend, it's very likely he'll do the same thing to you.

Swag spent most of the season creating situations to draw attention to himself. In order to start practicing, my guards and forwards were required to run eleven fullcourt sprints in a minute. A few days before the run, Swag suffered a mysterious back injury while playing pick-up. He couldn't run the sprints as a result when everybody else did. Once he realized there were other players capable of taking his minutes days into practice, the back injury went away.

The other stunt he'd pull for attention was walking onto the court with his glasses on during our team meetings before practice. Each time, I'd have to tell him to take off the glasses. When we finally got past that issue, he started taking way more time than was allotted to get dressed in the locker room. I flipped out one morning and suspended him for nine games. I had enough of paying special attention to a grown man.

One of his closest friends on the team, Hickory, always played the role of mediator between Swag and I. Hickory and Swag had met that Fall and became really tight. Whenever Swag messed up, Hickory attempted to pick up the pieces. In a sense, he was Swag's personal handler. They lived together off campus in an apartment and really bonded. When it was time to move out at the end of the school year, they both cried.

Ultimately they decided to attend the same 4-year college together and be roommates again. They even shared women at school. Their friendship grew even stronger until Swag took a blow-torch to the bromance.

Hickory: Did you hear about what happened between me and Swag?
Me: I heard y'all aren't that tight anymore. Something about a girl but I didn't care to find out more.
Hickory: So remember how Swag used to do all that stuff here and you'd say he was a Diva and stuff?
Me: Yeh.
Hickory: I thought you were just being hard on him until he did some ole foul shit to me.
Me: What happened?
Hickory: After he left school he heard that I was messin with this girl he liked on campus. Instead of just talkin to me about it, he messaged my girl on Facebook and told her about everything I was doing on campus.

Triple Fat Goose

Cold is the new cool--much like sex is the new crack. Back when I was in high school and college, being warm on cold days was the norm among my peers. That's not the case anymore. As I observe the youth of today, it seems to me that warmth is no longer a priority. Thankfully my days of trying to fit in are way behind me because I have never believed in compromising my warmth for anybody!

Thuglife has been the very fortunate beneficiary of our financial aid system. He has not paid one dollar towards his education because the Federal government has awarded him a full Federal Pell Grant each year that is valued at $5,500. Since tuition and fees for a full-time student is a mere $4200, he doesn't even have to pay for his school books. The only expense that comes out of his pocket (in a sense) is his cost of living.

Since Thuglife does not believe in working, he has taken out $4000 in subsidized loans each year to pay for rent, utilities, and food. After paying for all the necessities, he usually has somewere in the neighborhood of $800 in his pocket. Last year, he bought an Iphone with the excess cash but failed to pay his phone bill the following month since he mismanaged the money. He is now on his fourth phone number in two years and no longer owns the Iphone.

This year, he got a refund check for $2500. After his rent and utilities are paid, he should have around $1000 left to play with. Knowing this, I decided to have a conversation with him about his plans with the money.

Me: Instead of walking around in that thin ass fleece zip-up, why don't you buy a coat? You like being cold?
Thuglife: I don't need no coat, man. That's why I got these hoodies. I just throw em on under the fleece and I'm straight. haha
Me: It doesn't look like you're straight right now. Your teeth are chattering.
Thuglife: Yeh cuz it's dumb cold outside!
Me: And you don't think a coat would help? You could buy a nice Northface with that money.'
Thuglife: Nah. I got other plans wit the money.
Me: What's that? (joking)You going to Foxwoods to double up?
Thuglife: (laughs) That's not a bad idea, but nah I ain't doin' that. I'm thinking about buying a motorcycle!

Broken Wings

Helicopter parents cripple their children. They're almost as bad as the parents who are completely uninvolved. At some point, all children are supposed to leave the nest to do their own thing. A logical parent is supposed to have that in mind when raising a child. By the time I was 13, for example, I knew how to do my own laundry, iron clothes, and boil spaghetti. My parents weren't perfect by any means, but their intentions in teaching me to do certain things early on was made abundantly clear to me by my late father. In his stern tone, he often said to me, "one day I won't be here to do this for you, so learn it now or it's your ass that will suffer later."

The first time I met Triple was in his high school Guidance office. He was a 1,000 point scorer in high school who thought Division I schools would be pounding down his door before graduation. They didn't. His fall back plan was to attend an expensive Prep school for a year then wait for the Division I coaches to line up for his services. That didn't materialize either.

Sometime in June, which was two months after we met, Triple informed me of his intentions to bless us with his services. He could have attended a local Division III college, but he was offended when the coach told him he would come off the bench as a Freshman.

I invited him to campus so we could talk more. He showed up with his mother and father. I viewed this as being a good thing until the meeting started. His mother did all the talking. He probably got one sentence out during the entire meeting while his father sat there like a Mute. She clearly wore the pants in their relationship. When I asked about Triple's subpar GPA in high school (1.52) she explained that one bad year messed up his otherwise strong academic performance. She then got into how Triple's high school coach was to blame for his lack of Division I offers. Triple just sat there and nodded while his mother disparaged the coach.

Triple was well taken care of. He had an Iphone, fresh Jordans, real diamond earrings, and an expansive wardrobe. He struck me as a spoiled kid. Despite his complete aversion to being yelled at, or reprimanded at all, he and I developed a solid relationship. After the season ended, I was concerned when I saw Triple's second semester grades at the mid-semester break. He had slipped from a 2.5 to a 1.5. Initially I had it in mind to rip him a new one until he started opening up about the cause of his dip.

Me: So I need to threaten game suspensions in order for you to keep your grades up?
Triple: You don't understand, Coach. I'm going through some stuff.
Me: Everybody goes through stuff, but as a man you have to learn to rise above it.
Triple: Yeh? What about if your family's falling apart?
Me: What do you mean?
Triple: My mom and dad is gettin a divorce. We all live together but they don't speak or nothin'. My games used to be fun for the family but they ain't even sit together this year. Everybody's all scattered and what not.
Me: I'm sorry to hear that.
Triple: It doesn't help that we just got evicted. My brother's havin a baby and my pops ain't with that. He's not really gettin hours at work so money's tight.
Me: You talk to your mom much about what's going on?
Triple: Nah. Not really. As a matter of fact, she just upped and disappeared the other day.
Me: What you mean disappear?
Triple: She been acting suspicious lately. The other day she just left and nobody knows where she is. This shit's messin with me, Coach. I don't even like goin home no more.

Lost and Found

What you don't know will kill you. Others say what you don't know won't hurt you. There are many beliefs out there of what the truth can and can't do to you. Ultimately, the proof is in the proverbial pudding.

The average student-athlete who plays for me typically has a sub 2.0 GPA coming out of high school. Thuglife, for example, came into college with a 1.47 GPA. His high school grades were actually higher than two other starters this past season (1.1 and 1.12). The second "highest" mark among the quintet was a paltry 1.59." Interestingly, as a group of college students this season they had a combined 2.57 GPA first semester...

I took Thuglife to a Randall Robinson lecture after the basketball season ended. Having heard Robinson speak many years before as a college student I felt like Thuglife may come away with something profound--a message that could perhaps stir his soul, or flick the light switch on in his head at a minimum. My moment of clarity as a teenager came when I went on a "class trip" to a busy intersection with my History class. He asked us to just stand still with our pens and observe. While I saw nothing but girls and people hurrying about, my classmates saw examples of Capitalism. A week later when I went back to my stomping grounds for a haircut I noticed for the first time that there were more liquor stores than bookstores.   

As I sat there listening to Randall Robinson speak I was a bit disappointed. Years before he was far more energetic and entertaining. He inspired me like nobody ever did in a span of forty five minutes. This time around he was flat. He talked about the general ignorance of Americans and how our lack of knowledge is crippling in many ways. This wasn't news to me. I came in expecting a Grand-slam, but I got a soft double instead. The message was strong, but it wasn't riveting by any means. I thought Thuglife would fall asleep, but he didn't. He was really attentive the whole time. Afterwards, I asked for his thoughts on the presentation.

Me: So what did you think about Mr. Robinson.
Thuglife: Honestly, at first I thought it was gonna be boring and stuff but something told me to pay attention.
Me: Good. Did you learn anything?
Thuglife: Yeh, like, I never knew what Timbuktu was? It was interesting hearing him talk about it.
Me: Huh?
Thuglife: I never knew what Timbuktu was. I heard Nas say it in one of his songs. I never learned about it in history class or nothing. Now I know there was a kingdom back in the day in Africa.

The past two seasons Thuglife has violated the "nigga" rule more than anybody else on the team.

Copycat

Teens have sex because everybody else is doing it. I remember being a virgin at 14 and getting made fun of by family and friends because I wasn't getting any. Eventually, I grew tired of getting clowned about my lack of experience so I started lying about my stats. It helped that my older brother was running through the young women in his senior class like nobody's business. I basically took his stories and made them my own. Before I even got some serious action, I was making the ladies see "flowers growing in snow", as my brother used to put it. Not too long after my 15th birthday, I decided to trade in my V-card like everybody else...

"Puff" is one of the toughest players I've ever coached. His nickname came to be because he was always high when I'd run into him off campus. Puff lived with a couple of other players during his first year, one of whom (Flash) was the father of a newborn. They connected instantly even though they had very different family dynamics.

Unlike Flash, Puff had the luxury of having an extremely supportive parent. Even though his mother struggled mightily with alcoholism, she did everything for him and was literally always present. She paid his rent every month on time, bought all of his groceries, and attended every single game. Puff was her baby.

Puff's father was around too. Like mom, he was very involved despite being an alcoholic. For reasons that were never explained to me, he also spent some time in prison. While Puff and his mom were clearly inseparable, he didn't get along with his father at all.  As a matter of fact, I don't recall ever seeing Puff interact with his father when he attended games with mom.

At the end of his freshman year, Puff found out he was going to be a father. His mother was not pleased at all when she found out.

Mom: Coach, I don't know if you're aware but my baby is about to be a father.
Me: (shocked) Excuse me?? Really? What? With who?
Mom: That girl he's been seeing all semester!
Me: Oh okay.
Mom: This is why I was worried about him living with Flash.
Me: What does Flash have to do with anything? He's the one who chose not to wear a condom.
Mom: That influence. I think seeing Flash do the daddy thing got him thinking he should be a daddy too. I knew this would happen! And that girl lied to him!
Me: How?
Mom: She told him that she was on the pill.
Me: Are you really saying that Flash made him do it?
Mom: What else am I supposed to think? My baby wasn't doing this stuff before he got out here!

Puff and his baby's mother tried to work things out once the baby was born, but their relationship fizzled within a year. When I asked Puff about his son recently, he couldn't tell me anything. Puff has no relationship with his son.

Swaggerific

I was an awful coach my second year on the job. When I took over as Head Coach, I had a mere season of coaching experience under my belt as an assistant. With the exception of a few drills, I really didn't learn how to do much under the guy I worked for. It wasn't that he was a bad coach. We just happened to be so talented that the team didn't need much direction. I did a solid job during my first year at the wheel (18-11), but my mismanagement of one player (Swag) in year two killed what could have been a championship season.

Swag introduced me to the Bubble. As a matter of fact, my definition of the Bubble stems primarily from interactions I had with him over the course of a season. He was from New York City and behaved like a stereotypical city kid out there. Defining his attitude as brash would be an understatement. Every time we met, for example, I had to remind him to take off his fitted and dark shades.

Swag's initial visit to the college set the table for what I was about to experience that second season. Four years later, I still remember how put off I was when I picked him up at the bus station.

Me: Welcome to Worcester, man! I'm glad you made it out here!
Swag: (glasses on) Yeh. So how far is campus from here?
Me: It's not too far from here. You'll see.
Swag: Where's there to chill out here. I don't see nothin around here.
Me: You just got in the car.
Swag: Whoa. This ain't nothin like NYC! What is this????
Me: What were you expecting?
Swag: I don't know, but not this. This is Nothingville!

On the way back to the bus station that afternoon, I had to check him when he rolled down the car window to holla at a young woman who was crossing the street in front of us.