Bubble Butt

Girls like my butt. Unfortunately, even though I look just like my late father, I inherited my mother's rump. I thought nothing of my booty until I enrolled at a predominantly white Catholic school in the sixth grade. Within weeks, one of the girls started calling me "Bubble Butt." The moniker stuck with me through the three years that I was enrolled there. In some ways, that experience of being harrassed prepared me for what was ahead in high school and college.

The summer before high school I intentionally bought baggy jeans and shirts that were long enough to cover what my momma gave me. It seemed as though my tactic worked. Nobody was calling me Bubble Butt or commenting on my backside. I was happy to lose that nickname. Sadly, the comments resurfaced when I joined the track team as a junior. There was no way I could hide my butt in those shorts. This time around, the girls were also talking about how I had nice legs. Once again, I was being emasculated. Graduation couldn't have come soon enough...

A lot started happening in my life once I enrolled in college, so hiding the assetts wasn't as much of a priority. By that point, covering up the evidence was second nature. A month into school, my father had a stroke. The following summer, my high school sweetheart and I broke up. Along with a couple of friends on campus, she held me together during the initial stages of my father's decline. That break-up was devastating. The following year, I drank heavily and found comfort with the various coeds who were down for whatever on the weekends.

One of the coeds (Kinky) I called upon on some weekends took a liking to my butt. She was quite the character. Looking back, I think Kinky and I gravitated towards each other because we were both in pain. The year before, Kinky was raped by a couple of guys on campus. She seriously considered dropping out of college during the year. For a time, she was even suicidal. It took a lot of counseling during the summer for Kinky to return in the fall. During the first weekend of school, we established a booty call situation. We'd do our thing and keep it moving.

That's the year I learned that booty calls only last for so long. At some point, women catch feelings and it's a wrap. I wouldn't let the situation evolve into anything more, however. Kinky didn't like that. She hated not being in control. On a Friday night, I recall, she sent me a message on AOL instant messenger. Kinky wanted to have some fun and bring her toy along. I was drunk and had nothing else to do, so I told her to come through.

Me: I see you're steppin' it up. Toys now?? I've never done this.
Kinky: Oh yeh? I'm glad to be your first.
Me: So where is it?
Kinky: (pulls out a purple colored, metallic penis-looking object out of her purse)
Me: Am I supposed to watch?
Kinky: Of course not. I wanna use it with you. (flips a switch to make it vibrate)
Me: Why would I do that when I got this? (pointing downward)
Kinky: I don't want to use it on myself.
Me: (confused) I'm lost right now.
Kinky: Turn around and I'll show you.
Me: What?! You're joking, right? I'm not that drunk!
Kinky: Not at all. C'mon. I won't tell anybody...
Me: You're out of your fuckin mind! What do I look like to you?!?!
Kinky: You mean to tell me you've never thought about putting anything in there? You got a nice ass. Cmon.
Me: Yeh. You're really buggin. Time to leave!
Kinky: (rubs it on my arm)
Me: Ayo, straight up if you touch me with that shit again I'm calling the cops. This ain't even cool right now!!!

Baby Momma Drama

Trojans likes to ejaculate in the vagina. Condoms aren't his thing, especially when the girl looks good. I warned him about that, but he kept doing his thing. Unfortunately, many of us have to learn lessons the hard way in life. Trojans got a dose of reality that I hope he'll never forget.

On a night out, Trojans met a "married" woman. Based on what Trojans told me about her, she's among the breed of folks who get married because it seems cool. These days, people can't distinguish between liking somebody a lot and loving a person. The warm and fuzzy feeling is enough for some folks to declare their undying love for another person. Sure, people fall out of love but I don't think that happens within a few months. I don't believe true love can dissolve so quickly. That's the society we live in now, however. When people like me err on the side of caution with using the L word, they're accused of being too guarded.

Trojans and the married woman hit it off quickly. After they met on a night out, they shacked up. He asked some questions and concluded that she was unhappily married. I don't think a conversation was needed to realize that, but that's just me. She told him that her husband was impotent and she wanted children. Being in her mid 30s, she wanted to pop one out asap because of her biological clock. Knowing that Trojans doesn't like condoms, I thought it would be good to talk about this particular situation before it got out of hand.

Me: You say she's unhappily married.
Trojans: Yeh yo. Like, she's really not feelin' this dude. She says leaving him is complicated.
Me: Of course she's gonna say that. So you're tryin to wife this chick now? Does she talk about her husband? You realize dude could be crazy, right?
Trojans: Nah. I ain't tryin to wife it. I didn't even think about the husband bit, honestly. He's some Italian dude--a fireman. Honestly, he sounds like a bitch!
Me: He's an Italian fireman and you think he's a bitch? You bring her to your place?
Trojans: Yeh.
Me: How do you know she's not being followed.
Trojans: Good point. You're makin me paranoid, man!
Me: I mean, that is somebody's wife. Most spouses know when they're gettin'  played. Just sayin.
Trojans: Yeh. You're right. So you think I should end it?
Me: Dog, she's married! This isn't good! Are you serious??
Trojans: There's a problem, though.
Me: What's that?
Trojans: She called me the other day talkin about being late. I'm buying her a test asap to see what's good!
Me: You weren't wearing a condom!! Wow! Are you for real?
Trojans: Yeh. Wreckless, man.

It turned out that she was pregnant. A few days after finding out, Trojans accompanied her to a clinic so that she could have an abortion.

Used Goods

Spider is a victim of the system. As a society, we have failed Spider and countless other student-athletes because winning has taken precedence over principle. Then again, it's easy to blame coaches and teachers, but they're often caught in a "Catch 22" situation. A guy like Spider may not have graduated from high school had it not been for the carrot that basketball offered to do the bare minimum in school. He probably got away with skipping school and turning countless assignments in late. As a result of the enabling and coddling, reality didn't set in for Spider until he was a 20 year old college student.

The home is often ignored in the context of these issues. Spider lives with his father, unlike the Bubblees I've become familiar with. His mother isn't around, however. He lives with a stepmother. Spider was allowed to play basketball even though his grades sucked. It could be that his father punished him in other ways. Four years into this, I've learned that most of my players don't respond to a soft approach. There are guys who only respond to screaming and threats. My belief is that they became accustomed to the harsher tactics at home. Instead of pulling Spider from basketball, maybe his parents beat him or tried threats to correct the problem.

Conjecture aside, what I do know is that he was diagnosed with ADHD (not ADD) three years after graduating from high school. Every year I work with a handful of guys who have undiagnosed learning disabilities. I'm not an expert by any means, but when I talk to a guy and his eyes start darting all over the place within minutes, it's obvious to me that something more is going on. I've worked with guys who could not learn simple plays months into the season. One guy told me he had a cognitive learning issue, but that's one out of countless players who were puzzled by what I'd consider to be relatively simple concepts.

The doctor who evaluated Spider called me to offer his assessment. I learned a lot about ADHD during that conversation. For instance, he told me that people with ADHD are typically less mature than people who don't have it. The reason I cut Spider loose three years ago was because I was so annoyed with his childishness. I had no clue that he was just exhibiting symptoms of somebody with an undiagnosed learning disability.

Doctor: He's a classic case of ADHD. It didn't take long for me to make that assessment. Were you the one who suggested that he get tested?
Me: I did. By no means am I an expert, Doc. It just seemed to me that more was going on with him. Unlike some of the guys I work with, I get the sense that he's sharp. He can think critically. I just felt like there was a barrier.
Doctor: Actually, your assessment was spot on. I administered an aptitude test and his results were strong. Given the results of that test and his academic performance through high school and college, I think it's fair to say that he was fairly hampered by the ADHD.
Me: Did he mention something about his difficulties with math? That's actually what triggered my conversation with him. He got a D in our lowest level math course this past summer, after failing it the previous semester. He says math is a serious area of weakness.
Doctor: I didn't test for that. A lot of times people with ADHD struggle in math and it has nothing to do with some other disability. The problem is math requires time. He probably couldn't focus when he attempted to do homework. As a result, he probably didn't do the homework which is needed for reinforcement. If you don't do your math homework for a few years it becomes foreign.
Me: I never thought of that. That makes a lot of sense.
Doctor: That's the tricky thing with ADHD. It's the attention time that's low. The kid is easily distracted. The kid then acts out in class and from there it leads to a host of other issues. Are his parents involved much?
Me: To some degree. His father paid for his classes out of pocket this summer. The two classes cost over $1000, but he's been getting Fs here for awhile so I don't know how far the support goes.
Doctor: I see. It just amazes me that this kid went this long with a very obvious case of ADHD and nobody ever caught it. How'd he graduate with those grades???

Special Education

Spider is an "F" student. Out of the 8 classes he has taken here in two years, 5 of his grades have been Fs. Underachieving is nothing new to Spider, unfortunately. Coming out of high school, most of his grades were "Ds." When I met Spider as a high school senior three years ago, he said the courses weren't all that hard. He claimed that his grades were a product of general apathy. The little bit that Spider did in school, he noted, was done for the sole purpose of maintaining his eligibility for basketball season.

I recruited Spider heavily. He's the only student I ever presented a jersey with during a recruitment visit. Athletically, he's the type of player that scouts drool over. Although Spider was rail thin, he was a 6'2 forward with incredibly long arms. He ran the floor very well and jumped out of the gym. I figured with the right amount of work I could turn him into my first Division I product.

It wasn't too long after he committed to enrolling here that I realized Spider was in the Bubble. His immaturity was tough to ignore. He was also highly delusional (which is the single most defining trait of Bubblees). By the time September rolled around that year, I'd had enough of dealing with him. I basically told him to take a hike before the season started. Without basketball, Spider fizzled. He almost failed out of school.

At the end of last season, I decided to try again with Spider--figuring that a couple of years to grow up could have been what he needed. In order to get off of Academic Probation, however, Spider needed to earn two "As" in his summer courses. He posted a "B" in Intermediate Writing and a "D" in Basic Math. Even though Spider posted his best marks here during the summer session, those grades were only good enough to allow him to continue on Academic Probation. As a result of being on Academic Probation, there was only one way he could be deemed eligible for the Fall.

Me: I have a question for you.
Spider: What's that?
Me: Please don't be offended. Do you have a learning disability?
Spider: Damn, Coach. Really? I seem like I'm a short bus type?
Me: I'm asking because the only way you could play this Fall is if you have a documented learning disability. That's the only way you could play as a part-time student.
Spider: Oh. Oh. I never was told that I had one, but I felt like I did.
Me: Really??? Were you ever tested?
Spider: No. Never.
Me: Well, if you get tested and your doctor determines that you have a learning disability that's the only way I can have you play this Fall.
Spider: Man, That ain't a problem. I'll get tested asap!
Me: It's not that simple to be diagnosed. And I don't want you going into some appointment acting like something's wrong just to play ball.
Spider: I'm on it, Coach. I'll get tested. Don't worry about it.

A month and a half later, at the age of 20, Spider was tested and diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder.

Sticky Fingers

Stealing is common among my players. Every year, it seems like I have a player (or players) with sticky fingers; basically, anything they touch happens to disappear. Five years into this, I still don't know how to deal with those situations because a false accusation can lead to many problems. Four years ago, a pair of brand new sneakers were taken from the team room. A year later, money was taken from a player during practice. The following year, an IPOD disappeared. Each time I had an inkling of who the culprit was, but couldn't act on my instincts. I learned a lesson a few years ago about implicating without strong evidence.

There was a guy on the team who was uncharacteristically fidgety before games. During pregame meetings, he'd rock back and forth as though somebody overcharged his batteries. All of the coaches noticed it. After we talked about it as a staff, I decided to ask the young man if he was doping up before games. That was a bad move. It would be an understatement to say that he was offended. He strongly denied my accusation and I had a hard time putting out that fire. Since then, with any sensitive issue, I haven't done any outward finger pointing.

Last year, a couple of guys "lost" IPODs. I never got a handle on who it could have been. The first guy to lose his IPOD told me privately that he suspected Lanky of being the thief. I quickly put that accusation to rest. Lanky didn't seem like the type to steal from anybody. My spidey senses never went off around him. The issues I typically encountered with Lanky were customary. I never felt like I'd pick up the paper and read about something crazy involving him.

Today, I received a phone call from Lanky's new basketball coach. Lanky just moved to college three weeks ago. I consider him to be one of our true success stories, having raised his GPA to a 2.47 from a 1.8 in a year. Unfortunately, his coach wasn't calling with good news.

Me: Coach, how's it going?
Coach: Not good.
Me: Oh. What's going on? What he do?
Coach: Well, last night after study hall he came to me and said that the cops went to his room.
Me: For what?
Coach: They questioned him about a laptop that was in his possession.
Me: He stole it?
Coach: Well, he says he didn't. I'm calling to get your take on this.
Me: In all honesty, I value my professional relationship with you. I'd never send you a thief. We never had any issues around stealing with him. He's not the type, in my opinion.
Coach: Okay. Yeh. It just seems weird to me. He told me that some dude gave him the laptop.
Me: Hold up. Somebody just gave him a laptop out of the goodness of their heart? That doesn't make sense.
Coach: That's what he told me. I told him if he tells the truth, he won't be dismissed from school. Once the cops get involved, I can't do anything to help him.

Given this situation, I'm now wondering if Lanky was actually the IPOD thief...

Bad Boys

I didn't want to coach bitches anymore. After my second year on the job, I made a conscious decision to recruit a bunch of bad asses on to the team. I couldn't take another year of watching my players fondle the opposing team's superstar after being torched by said player.  After one game, I angrily observed a couple of my guys stroke the ego of a guy who had just scored 36 points on us! It was sickening. The entire offseason I combed through the area for assholes, and got exactly what I was looking for.

The first and biggest asshole of the bunch I found was Loco. Athletically, he was a serious specimen but it was his crazy story that sold me. In high school, Loco once followed the visiting team's bus in his own car for an hour to exact revenge on a player who had fouled him unnecessarily hard during a game. He even told me about a "special bat" he carried around in his bag to protect himself. I signed Loco up. There was no way, I felt, that Loco would ever fraternize with an opposing player!

A month into the following season, I was ready to lose my mind. I had definitely bitten off more than I could chew with the new crew. It seemed like everyday I was putting out a fire. The first blaze came about when detectives came to the gym looking for my starting shooting guard. He was being accused of armed robbery in broad daylight. After that, a series of head scratching events took place that lead me to my current recruitment philosophy. The straw that did it for me was when my starting center, who had confessed to me that he was a part-time home invader, hauled off and smacked an opposing player during a game.

It took two months for me to realize that I had made a colossal mistake putting those recruits together. All of them wanted to be in college, but they needed to be stripped completely of familiar company. Those guys didn't all come from the same high schools or neighborhoods. They were just very similar in character. All of them were hard core Bubblees. That year, I realized that I have to simmer in many Boy Scouts if I want a few Bubblees to succeed--hence, my current recruitment philosophy.

Of the seven Bubblees who came in that year, two of them made it into their second year. Both of them had to take summer classes in order to regain their eligibility. Unfortunately, only one of them made it to a 4 year college. He went from a GPA of 1.8 in his first year to a 2.46 overall the following year. Coming out of high school, he had a 1.57. When I did my own analysis of my Bad Boys on the back end I found that the sole survivor had one glaring advantage on his peers...

He had a relationship with his father.

Touchy Threesome

Hops doesn't have a positive male role model in his life. His father is around, but both times I met Hops it was his mother who accompanied him to campus. Hops is one of several children birthed by his father. From the little bit that Hops has shared about this man, it seems that he played football once upon a time and has a voracious sex drive.

When I started coaching here five years ago, a young man (Duncan) from Ohio sent me an email about playing here. I found it odd that he would want to move here from Ohio even though we didn't have dorms. After a campus visit with his mother, Duncan decided to come here. He moved into an apartment twenty minutes away from campus with a teammate, and played two years from me. Since then, I've found housing for twelve guys from out of the area. Duncan's decision to enroll here five years ago essentially gave way to Hops who'll be playing for me this Fall. Ironically, both of them don't consider their fathers to be positive male role models...

When Hops moved here for school, he was accompanied by a trio--his mother, his sister, and a friend of his sister. As Hops was moving into his apartment, his sister asked if it would be too late to enroll and play for the Women's team. I told her that she could probably still get in for the Fall if she moved quickly to complete an admissions and financial aid application.

Hours after I processed Hops' sister's application, I asked him some questions about her just to make sure she was serious about everything.

Me: Why is she applying now? Didn't you say anything to her earlier this summer about coming out here?
Hops: She wasn't interested before. This is more like a spur of the moment thing. She really wants to come, though.
Me: You and her really look alike. How many years apart are you guys?
Hops: Two years.
Me: So then you're the middle child? Your mom mentioned a 14 year old.
Hops: Oh. Nah. There's a bunch of us, but not all of my siblings are from my mom.
Me: Oh okay. Your father had other kids then..
Hops: Yeh. Like, it's a long story. My sister is actually my cousin and my sister.
Me: (pause) What? I don't understand. How's she your sister and your cousin? She's either one or the other.
Hops: Nah. My father got with my mom's sister.
Me: Oh... Okay.
Hops: Actually, he got with her other sister too.. So, he has kids with the three sisters.

Cock Blockers

I'm somewhat of a control freak. This personality trait is reflected in various aspects of my life, including basketball coaching. During the first week of school, for example, I require all of my players to show me four notebooks, four folders, and an assignment notebook just to make sure they have the essentials for class. In addition to implementing a formal dress code for road games, I also forbid any player from writing papers about topics related to basketball (or other sports) with the goal of getting them to broaden their horizons.

Blue Heffner played for me when I was a first year coach here. Five years later, he still stands out as my most eccentric player ever. Blue had a very colorful personality. He was so out there that I didn't even have to give him an alias for this entry; he gave the name Blue Heffner to himself. The irony of it all is that Blue Heffner was very dark skinned and had dark brown eyes. At some point, he decided to start wearing ice blue contacts because he thought it would look cool. Once he started wearing the contacts, his character came alive.

Blue was tall, skinny, and very athletic, but never played high school basketball. He admitted as much when we met for the first time. After watching him for a couple of days during tryouts, I decided to take a chance on Blue. It was clear that Blue wouldn't play much during his freshman season, but I felt that he could be a monster player in his sophomore year if he allowed me to coach him. Surprisingly, he was cool with not playing at all and learning the game. He was a great teammate. Unfortunately, however, he was a headache and a half in the classroom.

Blue scored a 1200 on his SATs (math and verbal) without taking a prep class. One would never know that because he goofed off so much in class and his grades sucked. He just never knew when to turn off the "Showtime" light. None of his professors liked him. I received emails regularly about his antics in class. After a few episodes I decided to cut him for a month. I explained to Blue that if he really wanted to be on the team, he would have to take a very different approach to class.

The suspension served its purpose. Blue's grades improved enough for me to let him back on the team. He was still having a hard time with his English class, however. Knowing this, I asked him to let me see his papers before submitting them just to make sure he was utilizing our tutoring services. There was one paper in particular he wouldn't let me read.

Me: Why can't I read your essay? You know I'm not going to judge you. The goal of this is to help you become a better writer.
Blue: I just don't know how you're gonna take the topic.
Me: You didn't write about sports, did you?
Blue: No. Not at all. I wrote about the next best thing I knew about.
Me: What's that?
Blue: Girls! haha
(Hands me the paper..)
Me: Is this a joke?? Are you fuckin serious?!?
Blue: See. That's why I didn't wanna show it to you.
Me: First off, you already turned this in. Secondly, how the fuck do you write an essay about "Cock Blocking" and give this to a professor! Are you kidding me?!

His thesis statement read something like this: A cock blocker is a friend who impedes your ultimate goal of getting it on with a female pursuit. Blue got a "C" on the paper...

Safe Sex

Trojans is a self professed pimp. He gets it in all over the country. Just recently, actually, Trojans spent a weekend in Miami and had a ball down there. He was on the beach everyday til 5 a.m. gettin' his play on. Most of his damage is done at home, however. Locally, Trojans prowls through the bars and clubs to find his prey. According to him, it's very rare that he doesn't get some action.

Trojan was a beast on the basketball court when he played for me once upon a time. Aggressive is the best adjective I could use to describe his game. In every aspect of the game, he was relentless. I love coaching those types of players. He didn't need me to hype him up before a game. It was all or nothing every time Trojan set foot on the court...

One night we got together for drinks to catch up. It had been awhile since we got to shoot the breeze. As we spoke, I couldn't help but drift back to when I met Trojans as an 18 year old. The first time we met, he was kickin' it in the middle of campus to some co-ed as students zipped by him on the way to and from class. Just as I was approaching, she gave him a kiss on the cheek. When I asked if she was his girlfriend, he told me she was just a groupie. Five years later, Trojans was on the same tip. All he talked about other than basketball were women and money.

Trojans and I always had a very open line of communication. He told me everything--and I mean EVERYTHING. Sometimes his thoughts crossed the line. I did my best not to shut Trojan down because his willingness to share gave me opportunities to advise him. One night, Trojans texted me because he wanted to talk. I knew my outing with him would be interesting. As adults, I felt far more comfortable listening to his wild stories.

Trojans: You remember that married chick I told you I was messing with way back?
Me: Yeh. What happened with that?
Trojans: Man, she got pregnant.
Me: So you're gonna be a dad now?!?!
Trojans: Hell nah! I brought her to the clinic. She got rid of that real quick!
Me: How do you feel about it? How did she feel?
Trojans: We both good. I know she didn't wanna have to break that news to her husband. I lucked out. Haha!
Me: You weren't wearing a condom?
Trojans: Haha. Nah. Haha. I nutted in her!
Me: Dog, are you serious? You weren't wearing a condom?
Trojans: Why would I?
Me: Are you serious? Because you don't wanna be getting women pregnant and you don't want an STD!
Trojans: It's whatever, man. Haha. I just ask em if they clean, then I nut in em--especially if they look good! 

Gimme the Loot

Bosh can't enroll in school this Fall. I had high expectations of Bosh after watching him compete against some local guys during open gym. He was tall (6'3). His arms were long. And even though his frame was thin, he was willing to bang inside with anybody. That was a big deal because finding a young player who's willing to get dirty in the paint is like winning $500 on a $1 scratch ticket. After watching him play for an hour and change, I felt comfortable enough to invite him back for the Fall.

Bosh is a 22 year old who lives almost three hours away from here in a rural town. He's unemployed and lives with a family friend. A couple of years after he graduated from high school, his mother decided to leave the area and move in with her boyfriend who lives down south. For reasons that were not explained to me, she left him here. Aside from the fact that Bosh didn't have a job, I was a little concerned about this rift with his mom.

My intuition was raging after our first teleconference. Since he was referred to me by a coach at a 4-year college who had tried unsuccessfully to recruit him a few years before, I decided to let my guard down. After we met in person and spoke a few more times, I felt better about having Bosh move here for school. My sense was that he just needed some guidance and reassurance along the way to keep him on board.
When Bosh left campus, I gave him three weeks to get his financial aid application done. The deadline passed and he hadn't completed it. I gave him another week to get it done. I got nada. At that point, I decided to stop chasing him. During his initial visit to campus, I had made it clear to Bosh that my patience for nonsense was short. He promised that I'd have no problems with him. Unfortunately, he was unaware of his own limitations.

A month before school started he sent me a message on facebook. I asked him to call me.

Bosh: I hadn't heard from you in awhile so I'm just seeing what's up.
Me: Is your financial aid done?
Bosh: No.
Me: So then there's nothing to talk about.
Bosh: I been goin' through a lot. Me and my moms ain't talkin. She won't do my financial aid app. I don't know what to do.
Me: Why didn't you tell me that a month ago? I could've called her.
Bosh: I don't know. I just don't say nothin when stuff is goin' on. Figure just deal wit it but I really wanna go to school.
Me: You can't do much without financial aid. And plus, you need at least $900 to pay first and last. Did you work this summer?
Bosh: Yeh. I did construction. I was makin' like $130 a week.
Me: Did you save money?
Bosh: Yeh. A little.
Me: How much?
Bosh:  Like $300
Me: Where are you gonna get the other $600?
Bosh: My girl's father would hook me up.
Me: That's cool. Y'all been together a long time?
Bosh: Like a month.
Me: And her dad's gonna hook you up with $600 to move here?
Bosh: Yeh. Definitely. He likes me a lot.

I haven't heard from Bosh since...