Blanco is a white guy. Often times when I speak of "the Bubble", people automatically assume that I'm using a euphemism for poor Black and Latino males. The effects of growing up with no consistent positive/supportive male role model and being academically troubled transcends race. Blanco is the perfect example of that. As a matter of fact, Blanco was one of the first Bubblees I'd ever encountered.
Blanco was so convinced of his Division I talent that Jesus Christ couldn't have convinced him otherwise. He was a 6'3, 190 lbs center who was not athletically gifted and possessed solid all around offensive skills, at best. Defensively, Blanco was a major liability. He couldn't defend a mailbox on a good day. All of this, yet I was the bad guy for being real with him.
Blanco: Coach, can I have our game schedule again?
Me: Sure. Do you need it for your supervisor or something?
Blanco: No. I need it for the basketball coach at Quinnipiac.
Me: (not really sure what to say) Are we talking about the D1 in CT.
Blanco: Yeh. That's the one. They watched me play then started sending me letters, but then my knee... I used to be so much more athletic than I am now. That injury killed it for me.
Me: (looking him square in the eye) I'd be pissed off if I were that coach and you sent me a schedule.
Blanco: Why?
Me: Gas is money and I don't like people wasting my money.
Blanco: (shoots back) Well, he has seen me play before and I know I can play at that level. I've played against guys on that team before and scored on them...
Later on, I discovered that Blanco was going through some personal issues stemming from a summer trip down South to visit his long, lost father.
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