Brain on Drugs

Drugs have damaged their brains. Their parents were addicts. Some stuck needles in their veins. 
At times, I don't understand their lack of direction. I think about their childhood and the lack of affection. 
Few of them operate with any sort of plan. Tough talk is what they attribute to being a good man.
I get it. 
Dad was not around; the parents were never wedded. Dad felt no attachment, so he packed his things and jetted. 
In some cases, there was nothing at all to pack. It was just a hook-up, or a fee for liquid crack...

Armslong was a crack baby. He was raised by a church-going grandmother who also assumed responsibility for his two younger sisters. Armslong's mother went in and out of jail throughout his childhood, and his dad was an unknown. This was a classic tale of an inner-city boy who had to scratch and claw from birth. I don't know that he was ever diagnosed with a learning disability, but it was clear that he had some learning challenges. When I met Armslong, he was a 21 year-old man who could barely read, or write an essay. His difficulties ran so deep that he never picked up any of our plays the whole season.

I felt bad for Armslong. It was clear that he wanted more for himself, but his capacity to do college work or even function in an organized college basketball game was severely limited by the aforementioned barrier(s). At 21, and without health insurance, I couldn't have him tested for a learning disability. Instead, I just recommended that he go to tutoring regularly. Unfortunately, Armslong wouldn't ask for help. I think he was too ashamed of anybody knowing the extent of his intellectual deficiencies.

Armslong wasn't much of a thinker either. Although he was very polite and attentive, I could never engage him in any meaningful conversation outside of basketball. Upon recognizing that, I assigned him various newspaper articles to read so we could discuss different topics. I learned over time that he wasn't stupid. The issue was that he was under-exposed to anything outside of his world. He was, essentially, an illiterate townie. With time, I figured he would catch my drift when I attempted to talk about something outside of his comfort zone.

There was one particular exchange we had that I'll never forget. I was talking to him about networking and golf. My goal was to introduce him to the concept of networking, but my message rang hollow.


Me: I'm learning how to play golf.
Armslong: That's cool, but why? It's golf. That's mad boring.
Me: Who plays golf?
Armslong: I don't know. 
Me: Do you know people who play golf?
Armslong: No.
Me: Well, it's a way to meet people. Most people who play golf are professionals--and some of those professionals have money.
Armslong: Okay.
Me: So do you get why I'd be learning how to play golf?
Armslong: Honestly, nah. Nah. I'm not following you right now.