Gun Play

Action had a brush with death. He woke up in the morning fully expecting to go about his regular business (work, school, basketball practice), as we all do, without interruption. Sadly, he was mistaken. Before he could even get to school and basketball practice, Action was sitting at a police station trying to make sense of everything that had happened to him.

Most of the guys I coach have lived through very traumatic experiences. I often draw comparisons between basketball and real life with the hope that they'll carry the same mental toughness they display in one realm of life into the other. Some of the challenges they've overcome I regard as being borderline insurmountable. One guy, for example, started finding his own meals at the tender age of five because his mom was often too strung out to make sure the fridge was full.

Action had been out of school for two years before he decided to give college a shot. He was recommended to me by a former player who played in a men's league with him. Action's story was typical. He moved to a different area (an hour away from home) hoping to escape the negative influences that threatened to throw his life completely off course. In so doing, Action got a job at the local "Family Dollar" (a mid-sized, convenience store chain)as a store clerk and decided to live with his girlfriend who he referred to as a calming influence.

Action's decision to leave his hood was paying major dividends. Because of Action's financial hardship, he received a full Pell Grant from the federal government to cover the cost of school and his books. Despite some glaring academic deficiencies (which will be touched upon in a subsequent post), Action had at least a C or better in all of his classes. Things were going pretty well for Action until that near fateful day.

An hour before practice, my cell phone rang. I saw Action's name on the screen and picked up.

Me: What's up, man?
Action: I don't think I'ma make it to practice today, Coach.
Me: Why not?
Action: Some stuff went down, man. Crazy.
Me: Are you okay?
Action: Yeh. I'm cool. I'm just at the police station.
Me: What did you do?
Action: I ain't do nothin.
Me: Then why are you talking to the cops?
Action: This morning some dude rolled into my store and held the place up. I had a gun in my face at 8 a.m. this morning, coach.