Rival Crews

Husky was a convicted criminal. I had to think long and hard about taking him on the team given the crime he had committed. He admitted to slashing somebody with a blade during a fight and snatching the victim's chain. It was difficult for me to look at that infraction the same way as a petty weed trafficking violation. I needed to take a step back before deciding on how to proceed with Husky.

Instead of cutting him off right there, I listed the expectations that I have of every player--like going to class, getting good grades, and showing up on time. I wanted to see how he would react. Husky was unfazed by my rules. He didn't even flinch or roll his eyes like some other guys have in the past. I also asked him a question that I pose to most cats who are interested in playing for me--that is, what's your greatest flaw?

Some guys can't answer that and when they're unable to do so, I regard that as a serious red flag. As I've noted in previous posts, there's no big secret to my approach with the more difficult characters. I simply look for cues that suggest an individual can be reached. If he doesn't have the slightest clue of just one flaw, for example, then I know he won't be receptive to my direction. It means he's either too stupid (or too stubborn) to look within. In either case, it's damn near impossible to help that type of person turn the proverbial corner.

Along those lines, Husky didn't hesitate to tell me that his attitude could be a problem at times. I walked away from that conversation feeling better about working with him. After a few weeks of school, I noticed that he had a "C" or better in every class so I gave him a call. At that point, I invited him to be part of the team and he accepted the offer.

Husky didn't disappoint at all on the court. He was an animal. Given our needs as a team at the time, he was just what the doctor ordered. It didn't take long for my bubble to burst, however. One night after a game, I decided to hit up a bar to grab a drink. As I sat down a former employee at the Athletic Center, Birdie, tapped me on the shoulder. She needed to talk.

Birdie: I see you got Husky playin for you. You might have some issues there.
Me: Why's that? He's doing fine so far.
Birdie: He switched gangs. He's rollin with dudes his boys used to beef with now.
Me: Huh? How do you know?
Birdie: Because my ex used to roll with him. The word is on the street. 
Me: So what does that mean?
Birdie: Really? You don't know what that means?
Me: I don't take these local cats seriously. Dude is a gangster in college. Cmon!
Birdie: Well, dudes is ready to set it on him. They're after him on some serious shit.

Slice n Dice

I believe in second chances. My coaching career has been defined by this conciliatory approach to some degree. After all, everybody is prone to making mistakes from time to time. In dealing with situations, I often ask myself how I'd want to be treated if the roles were reversed. The usual conclusion is to extend an olive branch, and see if a story of redemption comes about.

Nearly one third of the players I've coached come to me with a checkered past. During my second year, for example, one of my key players was a gang member who decided to leave his hood for a chance to play college basketball. The following season, a "stick-up" kid found his way to my program with the same resolve to turn over a new leaf. In the former case, he ultimately left the gang life behind completely, but the aforementioned "stick-up" kid didn't even make it through half of a semester with me.

The results have surely been mixed along the way. I've come to realize that I can't reach the ones who are fully immersed in "the life." The former gang member didn't change his ways because I touched his shoulder with a magic wand. Before enrolling at the college, he had already taken steps towards cutting the negative influences out of his life. My program just provided him with an outlet to cut those guys out completely. The other character wanted to have his cake and eat it too. He didn't like robbing people, but it was an easy way to get money and whatever else he needed. I also learned later that he suffered from some severe mental health issues that weren't being treated.

The most recent character I decided to take a chance on was Husky. During an "open gym" session for prospective players, he showed up and left a strong impression. Although Husky wasn't incredibly skilled, I liked that he played with passion and toughness. He stood at about 6'3 and had a very solid frame. For the entire hour that the guys played, he clearly stood out among them for his physical presence. I definitely needed him on the team.

There was a problem, however. I knew a little bit about Husky and from what was circulating in the wind, I felt like a conversation was needed before we could talk about basketball. He had a bad reputation around the community as a troublemaker who rolled with a crew in town. Since Husky took it upon himself to enroll in school, however, I figured he was salvageable.

Me: I liked what I saw out there. You're tough.
Husky: Thanks. That's just how I play, man. No fear.
Me: I can see that. What's your story, though?
Husky: What you mean?
Me: I've heard about you. Didn't you do time recently?
Husky: (surprised) Wow. Word flies like that? Yeh. I did time. Right now, I'm on probation.
Me: I'm not asking you these questions to disqualify you. I just want to know what I'm working with.
Husky: Nah. I understand. I'm just here tryin to get an education. Figured I try the college thing. Do the HVAC program and put all that other stuff behind me.
Me: What's the other stuff? Why'd you do time?
Husky: Aggravated assault and battery. I slashed somebody with a blade during a fight.

Sob Story

Lebraun roams the streets. I don't know for sure that he's doing anything illegal, but my gut tells me that I'll see him in the police blogs soon. Hopefully, I'm wrong. Lebraun played for me a few years ago. He was a nice guy, in his early 20s and on his own, who wanted a shot at being on a team since he had never gotten the chance to play organized basketball. I didn't mind his enthusiasm for the game, or his ambition to play at a high level down the road (Division I). My problem with Lebraun was that he told me his game mirrored Lebron James' even though that was far from the case. That's partially why I classified him as a Bubblee initially. The mountain of evidence would soon follow.

Lebraun isn't a bad guy. I wouldn't even go as far as calling him a liar. Like other Bubblees, he just wants the respect that comes with being great at something outside of school. Bubblees that I encounter typically don't have any ambition in the academic realm. I believe that's a function of the overall frustration with school among Bubblees. It's a restrictive place for them. Many of them have impairments (often undiagnosed) that preclude academic success.

Naturally they frown at anything that's book related. Instead, they define themselves by their hobbies (sports, artistic ability, rapping, fashion), material possessions, and/or their conquests. In their communities, revered folks are those who show out (so to speak) in one of these areas. The guy who goes on to a Division I college to play a sport is a king, for example. As a result, guys like Lebraun spend a lot of time playing sports hoping to attain that status. 

The problem is that most Bubblees I encounter expect to reap major rewards without working hard. They talk a good game. That's it. Everything is supposed to happen instantly, and when things don't go accordingly, they quit and resort to the fantasy. In the event that the fantasy comes undone for whatever reason, that's when they tank. Lebraun represents a classic case of this.

After playing one season for me, and averaging a whopping 1.9 points per game, Lebraun couldn't come back to school because his father was unable to provide the necessary tax documents for him to receive financial aid. The basketball dream suddenly fell apart as a result. In keeping with the Bubble tendency to unravel and make sudden, irrational decisions when an obstacle comes about, Lebraun became unhinged. I ran into Lebraun late one night at a liquor store and wasn't surprised to hear that things weren't going well for him.

Me: Do you still have that job?
Lebraun: What job?
Me: At the Honey Farms? The last time I saw you, you were working there.
Lebraun: Nah. 
Me: What happened? You quit?
Lebraun: No. They fired me.
Me: Did you do something to be fired?
Lebraun: Personally, I think they were out to get me anyway. It was gonna happen sooner than later.
Me: But what did you do?
Lebraun: I was on my lunch break and took a sandwich. The Manager fired me on the spot.
Me: Why?
Lebraun: Why what?
Me: Why did you take the sandwich?
Lebraun: I was hungry. 

Chronic Illness, Part 2

(Continuation of previous story, Chronic Illness...)

Instant gratification is very prevalent in the Bubble. Bubblees medicate by making split second decisions to feel better in the moment without considering the long term consequences. We're all guilty of making bad decisions and satisfying sudden urges. However, the average person doesn't continually go about doing things that way. Bubblees, on the other hand, never learn to stop operating in this knee jerk fashion. As a matter of fact, their lives come to be defined by their inability to make decisions with any sort of long-term view in mind.

That issue isn't the sole identifying characteristic of people who are mired in the Bubble. Among other perverse personality traits, they are also skilled at manipulating people. For some of them, it's how they get by in life. Eventually the truth comes to light and they proceed to find their next prey. Since we're a society of givers and takers, it's inevitable that the Bubblee will find somebody to come to the rescue. Suckers, like me, make it possible for these people to live like this.

Diego's story is a perfect example of this mentality. I truly don't think he woke up one morning and decided to find an idiot on a college campus who was willing to buy his story. I still feel like he wanted to major in Human Services so that he could help other addicts--or maybe I'm just extremely naive. My bet is that between the first time I met him and the day he called me, something happened to put him in a bad place.

Another truth about Bubblees is that they are not terribly resilient. The slightest obstacle can send them off course. In the case of Diego, it could very well be that an old friend came around with some "stuff" and he had a relapse--or perhaps somebody told him that college would be too hard and he just gave up on the dream. Either way, I believe Diego suffered some type of setback that lead him to dial my number and ask for a "loan." Instead of working through whatever issue he was dealing with, Diego decided that his relationship with me had a price tag on it.

Me: How much money are you looking for?
Diego: $50
Me: When do you need it?
Diego: Today. Listen, man. I swear to you. I'll pay it back. For real.
Me: Today?? I'm not even home right now.
Diego: Please. I'm begging you. Where ever you are, if you could bring it to me I would be really grateful. I just don't want something to happen to my mom. Know what I mean? The bus is leaving soon!
Me: (annoyed) Where are you?
Diego: I'm over by Elm Park.
Me: I'll bring you the money. Meet me by the ice cream truck.

I gave him the money. The sullen, duplicitous look on his face told the story. I knew instantly that I'd never get that money back (from him, at least)... Months later, I ran into him at a supermarket. He was with a woman. Maybe it was his new prey. Diego came over to tell me that he hadn't forgotten about his debt. I simply told him that I didn't give him the money expecting the debt to be repaid and walked away. It was sad to see a broken man burn a bridge for $50...

Chronic Illness

Everybody plays the fool. There's no exception to the rule. "The Main Ingredient" turned that century old adage into a hit in 1972, and I suspect that I won't be the last person to reference that song. Although they were lamenting affairs of the heart, the chorus applies to so many other situations in life. I often find myself playing the fool, and it's not a good feeling when I get burned. Unfortunately, my mom taught me to give without expecting something in return.

The society we live in has two types of people, givers and takers. Often times, the takers take advantage of the givers because it's how they're programmed. Givers are often slow to learn a lesson because they aren't configured to be selfish. Along those lines, I was lead to start my professional career as a Youth Counselor because I was taught that helping others is the right thing to do. After all, more than a few adults helped me back in the day and I wanted to pay it forward.

I am now nine years out of college and continue to work in a "helping profession" even though more than a handful of young folks I've helped in the past have never said thank you or shown any sign of gratitude. If getting burned left scars, people wouldn't recognize me anymore. The best example of this occurred last year during an Open House on campus where I met a prospective student who needed some extra help.
Diego was an aspiring new student who had just been released from a drug rehabilitation clinic after he was declared sober. He was so thankful for the help of his counselors that he decided to attend our Open House to begin the path of pursuing a Human Services degree. The downside of Diego's situation, aside from the past addiction, was that he lacked some very critical skills (like how to use a computer or type) that college students need to be successful. Despite that, Diego expressed a seemingly strong desire to do what was necessary to earn a degree and help other recovering addicts.

I felt like he was being sincere. During the Open House I devoted all my attention to making sure he got started on the right foot with us. I took it a step further and gave him my cell phone number when the night was over so that we could stay in touch. A few days later Diego came back to campus to look for a person I had suggested he meet with. He was on the path to enrolling at the college. Soon thereafter, on a random Saturday afternoon, I received a call from an unfamiliar number. I picked up the phone and Diego was on the other end.

Me: Hello?
Diego: Hey man, it's me. Remember me from that Open House. You helped me out big time. Remember?
Me: Of course! What's up, man?
Diego: Thank you so much you don't even understand how much that meant. 
Me: No problem. I'm just doing my job. 
Diego: I hate to do this, and I swear I'll pay you back. My mom is real sick. I'm trying to take the bus out to Springfield to see her and I don't have the money.
Me: (thinking, oh boy) How much do you need?
Diego: Listen. I swear to you that I'll pay it back. I have an interview coming up at McDonald's on Main Street and I'll be able to pay you back.

(To be continued....)

Tech Thieves

I coach at least one thief per year. At some point during the season, without fail, somebody will inevitably steal from a teammate or a fellow student. Guys come and go from here, but the tendency for one of them to snatch an Ipod, Iphone, or laptop remains the same every year. The most troubling part about this is that I'm always caught off guard by the crook, even though I pride myself on being a great judge of character.

Last year, a young man (Lanky) who I strongly recommended to another coach went to his new school and stole a laptop within the first month of school. He only got caught because the laptop had a built in tracker that lead University Police to his dorm room. Lanky was also suspected of stealing a teammate's Iphone the year before while he was on my team, but that matter was never resolved. I didn't bother questioning him because he never gave me a reason to think he would steal from a teammate. In hindsight, I should have looked into it further since the accuser was one of his friends on the team.

The worst situation occurred five years ago when a staff member at the college invited some players over for dinner. After they left, her son discovered his Ipod and some money were missing. The thief turned out to be his cousin. Initially, everybody suspected one guy because he "seemed like the type", but eventually the cousin bragged about his heist and the scheme unraveled. The sad part about this story was that the cousin lived with them. He was taken in by his aunt because he had no place to go. Years later I was told that he stole over $500 from the family during the course of his extended stay.

The most recent theft occurred in a computer lab. According to the police report, one of my guys (Curly) conspired with a friend to take a classmate's Iphone. Never in a million years would I have attached Curly to such a petty plot. He wasn't a trouble maker and always did everything I asked of him. As a matter of fact, one of the first adjectives that came to mind (prior to this) when I though of Curly was genuine. In this case, however, Curly was far from the upstanding individual I had gotten to know.

While his friend created a diversion, Curly grabbed the Iphone. Before Curly could make his way off campus, however, he was confronted by Campus Police. I'm sure he was surprised by how quickly he was apprehended. Nobody but his friend knew that he had taken the Iphone. Like Lanky, Curly didn't realize that a lot of these new expensive devices have a built in tracker.

Me: I don't get it. Why did you do it? I would've never pegged you as the type.
Curly: I have no clue, Coach. I just did it.
Me: There had to be a reason. Did you need the phone?
Curly: Not at all.
Me: Were you listening last week when I talked to the team about instant gratification?
Curly: Yup.
Me: So why'd you do it?
Curly: I really don't know, Coach. The phone was there so I just took it. 

Drinking Problem

(Continuation of previous story... "Close Call")

Alcohol releases your inhibitions. After a couple of drinks some folks can't seem to think straight. I discovered that in college after witnessing enough episodes of people getting trashed and making bad decisions. Admittedly, I've even made some highly questionable choices while under the influence. I've learned to function better, and avoid regrettable situations, over the years as my tolerance for the "sauce" has evolved. Unfortunately, some folks never learn how to control their impulses after they've put back a few.

My mom is one who believes that people use alcohol as an excuse to act on their poor judgment. I'm sure it's true in some cases, but she doesn't feel like alcohol should ever cause a seemingly innocent person to suddenly become rowdy or very sexual. My mom reasons that people who "act out of character" when they drink are simply exposing their true intentions. It's not a groundbreaking theory, but it's interesting that she believes all people reveal their true being when they're intoxicated.

Jenny's one night stand at the country music concert was the result of heavy drinking. She got hammered with her friends then suddenly discovered a penis in her vagina that didn't belong to her husband. Jenny owned up to a weakness for alcohol. It makes her feel very frisky, and sometimes leads her to have sex with guys who aren't her husband. Jenny didn't confess to more affairs, but admitted that her inner nympho comes out to play when she's drunk.

She was really upset about the situation, and confused about what to do next. Telling her husband about her romp at the country concert would tear the family apart. Jenny sought advice from her mom who offered a viable solution.

Me: Wow! What are you going to do? Is there a chance that the baby is your husband's?
Jenny: Of course. We have sex regularly. I'm pretty sure it's his but the timing is so close.
Me: That's tough. This is something straight out of Maury!
Jenny: I know, right?! I don't know how those people do it--telling everybody their business on national tv. I couldn't do it.
Me: Do you want another kid?
Jenny: Of course, but I'd want to know that both kids actually belong to my husband. I talked to my mom about it all, and she gave me good advice.
Me: You told your mom?!?! What she say?
Jenny: I tell my mom everything. We have a great relationship. She says that I should get an abortion.
Me: Are you going to do it?
Jenny: (tears) My appointment is in a couple of days.

Close Call

I must give off a counselor vibe. It happens very often that people, sometimes they're total strangers, share intimate details with me about their lives. I'm used to it by now. All I have to do is say hello and the counseling session begins. My sense is that most people have a desire to release a lot of tension, but find few people who are genuinely willing to listen--even friends and relatives.

I'm a very willing listener. My motto in life is that people learn more when they just sit back and observe, or listen. As such, when I talk to people--friends and strangers alike, my tendency is to ask questions. Some people appreciate that, while others balk at my probing ways. Either way, I don't force people to tell me anything personal. I just ask for specific answers (when people are vague), which often leads to follow up questioning that starts the deluge.

One night I ventured to my favorite bar alone to watch a preseason football game. After the starters were removed from the game, I started to lose interest but didn't want to leave because the bartender was making my drinks heavy. Instead, I sipped on my drink and texted back and forth with other friends who were watching the game. Eventually, the bartender stopped in front of me to chat. It was a slow shift so she had some down time.

Jenny wasn't a total stranger. I got to know her gradually as a regular at the bar. The strength of her drinks, and the usual complimentary beverage she slipped in, kept me coming back regularly. For less than $20, I'd have a nice buzz and a great meal. Great conversation was included as well. Whenever things slowed down, Jenny and I would converse about a range of topics--mainly her husband and child.

As Jenny talked to me, a woman walked in with a stroller. Sadly, there was a toddler in it and she ordered a drink. Jenny was clearly annoyed with the situation but had to serve the woman anyway. It wasn't long before Jenny had a completely downtrodden look about her. I thought it stemmed from her discomfort with the stroller situation.

Me: You annoyed with the lady?
Jenny: I'm not comfortable with it. Why do you ask?
Me: Your demeanor just changed suddenly so I thought I'd ask.
Jenny: Oh. You notice everything. It isn't her that I'm thinking about.
Me: What's up?
Jenny: (tears in her eyes) I didn't get to tell you that I'm pregnant.
Me: Oh wow! Congratulations! Your husband happy?
Jenny: He is, but I'm not.
Me: Don't you want more kids?
Jenny: Yeh, but it's tricky. Please don't judge me.
Me: Why would I judge you being pregnant?
Jenny: I hooked up with a guy at a country music concert, so I don't know if it's my husband's baby.

(To be continued...maybe)