No Homo

(Continuation of "That's Gay")

Mouth believed homosexuality was nasty. I engaged him in a long conversation regarding his view of gays, hoping that I could get him to reassess his stance. By no means did I expect Mouth to leave my office feeling differently about homosexuality, but I wanted him to at least see that his tirade was no different than a racist commentator spewing hate about blacks. As a young black man, I figured Mouth would understand that. He couldn't see the parallel, however. Mouth had his mind made up that gays were gross.

I suggested that he take a class titled " Sociology of Sex and Gender" being offered at the college. I knew the Professor teaching the course and figured he could benefit from the experience. After some convincing, Mouth agreed to take the class. I made him promise that he wouldn't disrespect the students or the Professor. He gave me his word that no issues would arise.

True to his word, Mouth was a good citizen in the class. At the midterm break, he had a "B" and had nothing but good things to say about the topics they covered. Mouth was clear that he still didn't accept the gay lifestyle, but agreed that his rant months earlier in my office was over the top. I was proud of him for allowing some evolution to occur.

Towards the end of that semester I wanted to debrief about the class so I could get a better handle of what he gleaned from it. Mouth was happy to share his newfound understanding of homosexuality.

Me: I'm glad you took this class. It was very mature of you to accept my challenge.
Mouth: It wasn't no challenge. I mean, I like sociology topics anyway. I guess you could say I learned something.
Me: And what was that?
Mouth: I definitely realize that a lot of my views were kind of harsh. I mean, it's whatever for me. I get it now.
Me: That's good. See. You evolved.
Mouth: Yeh. It's a condition of the mind, you know. It's kind of like being retarded.

Victory Lap, Part Two

(Continuation of Victory Lap)

Steel was homeless. He resided in a church for a couple of months after the house in which he lived was foreclosed. Despite his miserable circumstances, he remained upbeat about school and playing basketball. Steel managed to earn a 3.3 GPA even though he worked forty hours per week and didn't have a place to call home. When I reached out to ask if he was interested in playing, I had no idea that his circumstances were so dire.

The timing seemed to be right when we connected about his long stated desire to play college basketball. Steel had just found an apartment, and he was able to devise his work schedule to accommodate our practice and game times. I even extended an olive branch since he was driving to practice immediately after work. I told him he could miss the first forty five minutes and just practice with us for an hour and a half.

I didn't view it as a big deal since that segment of practice involved mostly stretching and warm-up drills. By the time he ran in everyday, we were always starting to go over plays. That's where Steel ecountered challenges. Although he was incredibly athletic, Steel had a hard time learning plays. Nothing seemed to stick. He also wasn't blessed with a great pair of hands.

My excitement quickly turned into despair. I couldn't figure out how to make use of his athleticism, and I also wanted to see him on the floor badly given all that he had sacrificed to be with the team. His opportunity came during a game where we had no answer for another team's big man who was killing us under the basket. On a whim, I decided to give Steel a chance even though he wasn't going to run a single play correctly.

Steel responded by blocking several shots and giving us the rebounding presence we were sorely lacking. On offense, I simply told him to play from "block to block" and move in opposition with the ball. Basically if the ball was on the right side, he would be stationed on the left side in order to take his defender away from the play. We came from behind to win that game. Steel never emerged as a major factor on offense, but he provided enough defense to make us a better team...

Steel's last game with us is one I will never forget for a few reasons. Prior to the game I had to deal with two starters who were lobbying to play after missing an entire week of practice because of a car accident. One of the them was my starting point guard and the leading scorer. In the middle of that week I asked both guys if they planned to suit up for the game. Having suffered seemingly major injuries, both said they were definitely out. I was fine with that. One of them even told me that the doctor recommended emergency surgery for a separated shoulder, but on game day he was hoisting shots during our shootaround.

The two starters didn't respond well to being benched. They brooded on the bench about not playing as I watched my team struggle mightily without them. We couldn't even get the ball across halfcourt at one point. The guys were trying, but they were just outmatched. Steel lead the charge with great effort. In a play that I will never forget, he dove on the court for a loose ball as the game ended even though we were down by fifteen points. Most other guys wouldn't have bothered to do that. Steel, on the other hand, decided to go out on his own terms.

A year and a half later, at the age of 32, Steel completed his Associate's degree even though it took a total of four years and countless obstacles to do so.

That's Gay

Most of my players are homophobic. That was highlighted a few years ago when I coached a young man who many of my players perceived to be gay. In addition to wearing his afro in a pony tail all the time, he routinely wore flourescent colors and never talked about girls. I'm sure none of them ever asked him outright about his sexual preference. They just used stereotypical markers to assume his sexuality.

I never sought to find out if the young man was actually gay. It didn't matter to me. During a group meeting early that season I was forced to address the situation when a player took a mean spirited jab at his teammate. As a result of that occurrence, I started making it a point to let my team know that our operation was a hate-free zone at the beginning of each season. My stance has usually been met with some resistance--especially when it has come to the liberal use of gay. They have generally refered to everything bad as being gay.

Years later I was forced to engage one of my players (Mouth) in an exchange about his poor choice of words when he said something was gay. While I wasn't surprised about the depth of Mouth's ignorance, the conversation highlighted that there is still a faction of people who are in the dark ages as it pertains to homosexuality.

Me: Don't say that it's gay. Use a different word.
Mouth: Why? Am I offending you?
Me: You aren't offending me, but your use of language is offensive and unnecessary.
Mouth: It ain't that serious, coach.
Me: How would you feel if people used "black" to refer to stupid things?
Mouth: That's different. And plus, our issues are different than theirs.
Me: How so? We're both discriminated against.
Mouth: They make a choice, we don't.
Me: People are born gay. That's not a choice.
Mouth: First off, people aren't born gay. The bible says that. I was born black. That's very different.
Me: I'm not gonna convince you about that in this sitting, but what I want to do is put you in a Sociology of Sex and Gender course.
Mouth: Why?
Me: It'll be good for you to be in a class that addresses sexuality in depth.
Mouth: Nah. I'm all set. That gay shit is gross.

Turf Wars

(Continuation of Fight Night...)

Mouth got his ass kicked. He accepted the challenge to step off campus to handle things like men. Immediately after Mouth landed the first punch, his opponent's four-man crew decided to jump in. They managed to get him on the ground and kicked him in the face a few times. Although Mouth's boys jumped in to help, they did so solely as peacemakers. The end result were some minor abrasions to his face and a bruised ego.

The fight had been brewing for several months. It all started in the cafeteria when Mouth took exception to some comments that were being made about the men's basketball team. Somebody said the team sucked, and Mouth told the guy he had no business commenting about basketball since he was "trash." After some more barbs were exchanged, Mouth challenged the heckler to stop talking and step outside. They didn't end up fighting that day. From that moment, however, the beef was on.

Mouth was pissed off as he recounted getting jumped. He was set on dropping his classes. As his coach, I felt the need to intervene so that he wouldn't withdraw and lose all of those credits. I wanted to find a reasonable solution to the problem, but the matter seemed to be deeper than originally anticipated. Mouth was convinced that their quarrel was just the beginning of what could end up being a bad situation.

I understood that Mouth didn't like hearing this guy talk smack about the team. Few athletes would sit by while anybody poked fun at their squad. What I couldn't understand was why they needed to fight about that incident four months later. The disagreement seemed frivolous. I felt the need to dig deeper about the matter to fully assess the situation.

Me: I get why you were upset with this cat. What I don't get is how y'all ended up fighting months after the initial confrontation.
Mouth: Me and him go way back with stuff, like way back.
Me: How far back, and what happened?
Mouth: Years ago, when I was younger. You don't know this about me, but I used to be in a gang.
Me: For real? You? I figured you were selling dope but never assumed you were in a gang. You don't strike me as a gang type.
Mouth: First off, I don't sell nothin'. Not sure why you'd think that.
Me: You don't have a job and you need to eat. And plus, you smoke so I just assumed that's how you're getting by.
Mouth: Nah, not even... but I used to roll with this crew in town. This other dude rolled with our rivals.
Me: So you're still running with this gang?
Mouth: Nah. I got out of it a while ago.
Me: You were in a gang and just got out? What is this? A club membership? Don't dudes get popped for opting out?
Mouth: Not around here. Gangs are corny out here. It was just something to do, but I was tired of getting in trouble for dumb stuff that I wasn't doing. And plus I was smarter than a lot of the dudes.
Me: Why'd you join to begin with?
Mouth: My family life sucked. School sucked. Everything sucked, but they accepted me.

Fight Night

Mouth had a bad temper. He was one of the first players that I ever threw out of practice. During an intrasquad scrimmage he felt like a teammate was being dirty, which I didn't see, so he took a swing at him while play was going on. I wasn't surprised at what Mouth did. He came to me with the reputation of being a loud mouth who liked to fight.

Ordinarily, tempers flaring has never been an issue for me. I think it's a good thing when teammates are physical in practice, or even square off to fight. Practice tends to be monotonous at times, so I welcome signs of intensity that some would deem counterproductive on occasion. In that case I ejected Mouth from practice because his attitude was awful for consecutive days, and he had voiced some personal issues with me about this teammate previously. I didn't like the premeditated nature of his aggression.

For a while after that spat, Mouth did a great job of controlling his temper. Coming into the season I knew he was a wild card given his past. In addition to being arrested as a teen for fighting, he had been in and out of foster homes. His home life was a mess, and continued to be when he played for me. He and his mom never got along, and (like so many other guys I've coached) his father was barely in the picture. Although he never verbalized it, I felt like Mouth's anger stemmed from having a very turbulent childhood.

Mouth had other issues here as well. He was also a very lazy student who picked up many poor habits from being enrolled at the local alternative high school for a couple of years. As Mouth put it, he never had any real school work there. Although Mouth placed into College level English here, he struggled mightily at first because he wouldn't do any homework. After he failed to heed my warning about getting work done, I suspended him for five games. Ultimately, he ended the first semester with a 2.13 GPA. While modest, that was a far cry from what he was doing in high school.

Mouth actually thanked me for straightening him out with that suspension. After the first semester ended, he continued to do well academically. He had two "Bs" and an "A" during the second semester mid-term break. At one point that semester, I was even stopped in the hallway by a faculty member who wanted to tell me that Mouth had earned an "A" on an oral presentation about Marcus Garvey. He was on track to transfer after the semester if he kept up his grades.

I was really happy with his progress. Things were going well until I received a text from Mouth asking me to call him asap.


Me: Hey man. What's up?
Mouth: I gotta drop out of school.
Me: What? Why?
Mouth: I got jumped by four dudes from school off campus.
Me: Hold up! What? You okay?
Mouth: Yeh. I'm aiight. It sucks to get jumped, but it's whatever at this point. I just ain't tryin to get locked up for retaliating
Me: Damn. I'm sorry this happened. Before you drop out, let me talk to the Dean about this situation.
Mouth: I ain't tryna be no snitch. I don't want no names being dropped.
Me: Okay. Fine. Why do you have to drop out, though? Can't you just go to class then head home? That's fifteen transferable credits you'd be burning.
Mouth: Nah. I'm in class with one of the dudes who kicked me in the face.

Victory Lap

Steel was my first undocumented prospect. At 25 years of age, he was also one of the oldest players I ever attempted to recruit. Our initial encounter occurred totally by chance. I happened to be in a mood to play basketball and headed to the Athletic Center at my alma mater, hoping some pick-up games would be going on. As I was loosening up to play, I noticed Steel working on some moves alone at a basket. He was an explosive specimen who stood around 6'4 with a very well defined physique. Once he executed a drop-step dunk with ease, I decided that it was time to talk.

Our initial chat was quick. I simply introduced myself and sought to find out if he had ever played college ball. Much to my delight, he had never played college ball. I smelled opportunity. The setting didn't lend itself to a full fledged conversation about his current circumstances so I took Steel's phone number and told him that I would be in touch soon. I quickly discovered that Steel wasn't going to be a typical recruit.

Steel immigrated here to play college basketball on the west coast. After accepting an offer to play, Steel's scholarship was rescinded shortly after arriving to the United States. The coach who had offered the scholarship had either been fired or resigned from the job. His hoop dreams were dashed without ever setting foot on a basketball court. Without a dime in his pocket, Steel had no way to return home. Eventually, he trekked eastward to start a new life with the help of some friends and a sibling who was already living in the states.

Steel had no intention of living in the shadows as an undocumented resident. Given the needs of his family abroad, however, he opted to take odd jobs working under the table. The pay wasn't much, but it was more than Steel could earn working back home. Along with paying for his own living expenses, Steel was also responsible for buying his ailing mother medication who resided two continents away. He did this despite having unreliable transportation in a part of town that didn't offer public transit options.

Over the span of seven years, Steel owned five different cars. He attempted to make the most out of affordable, used cars until they broke down because it was too hard for him to save for a good car and keep his job. Each time a car died on him, he would just move on to the next one. He literally couldn't afford to take any days off...

When we met, Steel couldn't afford to enroll here because he didn't qualify for financial aid due to his undocumented status. A few years after our initial encounter, he married an American--thus taking steps towards becoming a citizen. He called me immediately to share the exciting news. Steel was excited to finally have a chance to be a college student even though he had just turned 30 years old. He applied a year later and was accepted. He also received enough financial aid to enroll. Steel was all set to become a student-athlete until another obstacle arose. The house he was living in was foreclosed.

Steel was suddenly homeless...

(To be continued)

Vein Man

Hooper was a very gifted basketball player. He was by no means a Division 1 level player, but among the talent in this area he was head and shoulders above the competition. He was a natural point guard who possessed great court vision and a nice jump shot. I was lucky to have a chance at coaching such a promising, athletic talent as a young coach. As I learned very quickly, however, when talented players like Hooper only have the local Division III junior college as an option to play basketball it's usually because they're carrying heavy baggage.

Hooper was gifted to me by the outgoing Head Coach who left a healthy list of prospects on his way out. My first order of business when I assumed the helm was to connect with Hooper. To my delight, we hit it off really well from the outset. Getting in touch with him was never a problem throughout the summer. I didn't have any issues with him showing up to open-gym before classes began in the Fall either. The challenges began with Hooper once the school year started.

Everyday, there was an elaborate excuse for why he couldn't show up to practice. If it wasn't his long lost grandfather visiting from out of town, it was some other extenuating circumstance that kept him from being with the team. After a couple of weeks I grew tired of the various reasons for his absences. I gave him an ultimatum: he could either fully invest himself, or keep it moving.

A week into the preseason, Hooper came to my office and admitted that his mind wasn't in the right place due to some relationship issues. He was deeply in love with his high school sweetheart and needed to get that situation straightened out before he could really give the team his full attention. This was surprising given the amount of love he professed to have for basketball. Additionally, his grades were suffering immensely and he felt the need to devote significantly more time to that before it was too late. I appreciated his honesty and accepted his need to step away.

Ultimately, he failed out of school. I kept his information on file, however, figuring that he just needed some time to mature before he could take flight. Seven years later I searched for Hooper on Facebook and found him. A couple of weeks after messaging him my phone number, he gave me a call. Hooper was ready to give college another shot.


Me: Hey man. It's great to hear from you! What are you up to these days?
Hooper: I'm just working a regular job at a donut shop. Nothing special.
Me: Do you see yourself doing that in a few years? Give school a shot again. You owe that to yourself.
Hooper: That's a good question. I haven't thought about that. School has never been my thing, you know. I don't know, but the whole idea of ballin again is really making me consider this. I appreciate you reaching out to me again. It mean's a lot, coach. You know how much I loved ball.
Me: No problem. I've always wanted to coach you. Have you played anywhere since you left?
Hooper: Naw. Not at all. The only place I've been is to hell and back.
Me: The real world hasn't been good to you, eh?
Hooper: You can say that. I had to go through rehab not too long ago.
Me: Why?
Hooper: I was hooked on heroin.