Unjustified Penalty

(Continuation of Previous Story, "Chronic Issue")

Philly got caught smoking weed on campus. Of all places, Philly and his homies decided to light up right behind the Student Life Center which is located at the center of campus. There was no fence or anything else blocking the trio from being seen, but they expected to puff and pass undetected. Although they weren't seen, the fresh smell of bud alerted the building administrator that some students were getting high nearby.

A couple of Police officers showed up and caught Philly with the blunt in his hand. According to the police report, he resisted initially but upon realizing the severity of the situation, Philly cooperated and took a walk to the Dean's office. At that point he was asked to return at a later date for a more formal meeting to address the matter.

At the follow-up meeting, Philly was given a police report to review. After reading through it with the Dean, he opted to plea "no contest" since a trial in front of the judicial board meant he could potentially be expelled from the college. He accepted a lesser punishment which involved being barred from playing basketball for at least half of the next season, and having the infraction attached to his student record. He signed the form and went on his merry way.

All the while, I waited patiently for Philly to tell me about the incident. I saw him in the Athletic Center two weeks after the fact and chopped it up with him for a bit, pretending to know nothing about the episode. He didn't say a word about the violation, or ensuing penalty. During that encounter his eyes were blood shot and he smelled like he had just smoked, but I didn't care to investigate since I had already decided to cut him loose for the entire upcoming season.

After a full month, I informed Philly that I knew about what happened and decided to suspend him for the upcoming season. He feigned ignorance about signing the plea that incriminated him. I even had the Dean send him another copy as a reminder of what he confessed. He still played stupid. The exchange we had about the matter infuriated me so much that I decided to block his phone calls and text messages.

Philly: Why am I being suspended for the season?
Me: What do you mean? I gave you a full month to tell me about what happened and you didn't. Now you have to face the consequence.
Philly: I don't understand. I wasn't even smokin! These cops are lyin!!
Me: They caught you with a blunt in your hand. I saw the police report.
Philly: Okay but they said I was smoking. I wasn't smokin no blunt, coach. I ain't dumb enough to smoke on campus.
Me: Oh. You were just holding the blunt with no intention of smoking it?
Philly: I'm just sayin that I wasn't smokin and I don't see why you're suspending me for the season. That's wack!
Me: Wack?!?! You never came to me about this whole incident and now you want to say this is wack?! Are you kidding me?!?!
Philly: As my coach you supposed to have my back. That's all I'm sayin. I ain't ever give you no trouble before and this is how you play me?


TO BE CONTINUED...

Chronic Issue

"Philly" was escorted by Campus Police into the Administration Building. I happened to be walking out of the building while he was being brought into it. Something serious was going on but I didn't care to ask about it at the moment. At that point in the school year, I didn't feel like dealing with nonsense. If anything, I knew that an officer or the Dean would be in touch with me at some point.

The second semester of my sixth year was filled with drama. It all started with my leading scorer tearing his anterior cruciate ligament (ACL) right before the first semester ended. He was a speedy guard we relied on for easy transition baskets since the team lacked a big man who could score inside. I knew that it would be a challenge to replace his production, but I assumed we could weather the storm since we were adding another scorer (Philly) to the team in between semesters. I was wrong.

It didn't help matters that we had a very difficult schedule to begin the next semester. Our first six games were against the top three teams in our league and three Division 2 schools. We lost every single game. The mental toughness of my team quickly came to light as the "captain", with whom I had a very tenuous relationship, started to unravel. He decided to lead his own version of a mutiny against me by doing a number of things to get under my skin--like showing up high for games with Philly and another teammate (Spider).

My back was against the wall. I wanted to kick them off the team, but having already lost a major contributor I didn't think we would be able to compete with anybody in the league without those guys. I was also aware that booting them from the team meant they would all likely drop out of school. Their response to losing a lot was to get kicked off the team--essentially, relieving them of their misery. I didn't take the bait. Instead, I suspended the "captain" from a game to send a message to Philly and Spider.

There were no more weed infractions that season. Even though we had a losing record that semester, we still ended the season with a respectable 15-12 record and a berth in the regional tournament. Still, I couldn't wait for the season to end. When the final horn sounded during our semi-final round loss in the regional tournament I was relieved. The misery was over until I got called into the Associate Dean of Students' office a month later.

Dean: Is Philly one of your guys?
Me: Yes, he is.
Dean: You should know that he got in trouble for having drugs on campus.
Me: Drugs?
Dean: Yes. Marijuana. He was caught lighting up in his car earlier in the week and again a few days later by the Student Life Center.
Me: Was he with anybody?
Dean: Yes. He was with your team captain.
Me: I figured. That's real nice.
Dean: What was funny in this is that he didn't think he did anything wrong.
Me: How so?
Dean: He said he was just holding the marijuana-filled blunt. He wasn't smoking it.

Wicki Icky

I work with many young men who are ill prepared for college level work. It's very common for me to get guys who don't know where to place a period in a sentence, for example. Their reading levels are equally alarming. I often wonder how so many of them could have graduated from high school.

Thankfully this isn't true of every guy I have coached here. The range of academic aptitude and ability has been broad. The only common denominator between the ones who struggle most has been  (un)diagnosed learning issues--most notably Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) and a range of cognitive issues. The ADHD guys are pretty easy to identify (whether it's diagnosed or not), but I have yet to really grasp the other learning issues.

Along the lines of these learning difficulties, it took several years for me to figure out how to teach guys offensive "sets" (i.e. plays). I never understood how I'd go over a particular play repeatedly only to see a player look totally lost weeks later. In some cases it was as if I had never covered the concepts at all. Eventually I learned not to teach more than two plays, and to use film as much as possible to reinforce certain aspects of the offense.

Some people chalk it up to stupidity. I just think some of these guys have never learned how to learn. They treat every new thing like a rubix cube because they have no sense of where to start, or how to grasp a concept. One guy, in particular, "Wiki" had a really hard time with plays and a rather choppy history here academically. I always suspected there was a learning challenge but never quite knew how to bring that up in conversation without offending him. Six years after enrolling here Wicki still didn't have enough credits to graduate. This is supposed to be a two-year school.

Wicki was a really bad student before joining the basketball team. In the three years prior to playing, he had taken ten classes and failed or received an "X" in five of them. After he started playing, however, Wicki only failed or withdrew from two out of fourteen classes. While his grades improved drastically, he was still on shaky ground academically. Five full-time semesters after enrolling, he still had yet to satisfy the English requirement to graduate. As a matter of fact during one of our last academic check-ins his academic deficiencies were brought to light again.

Wicki: I got a problem, Coach. You got a few minutes to talk?
Me: What's up?
Wicki: Man, my ex got me in trouble. I don't even know what's going to happen.
Me: How'd she get you in trouble?
Wicki: So, recently I had a six page paper for one of my classes and I asked her to help me with it.
Me: Did she not help you?
Wicki: She did, but I didn't realize she copied and pasted the whole paper from Wickipedia. I sent it to my Professor without proofreading it.

Oh Brother

The city's young black men are lost. I realize this is a blanket statement, but I can't help but feel this way--especially after working at the local community college for seven years. I've also lived in the city for nearly fifteen years, so I've seen many of these boys over a long period of time. Very few of them are bad people. What I've noticed among them has been a troubling trend of regression. Seemingly innocent, good natured boys end up being angry men with no direction.

I've certainly encountered some upstanding young brothers around the city, but those encounters have been few and far between. I started my post-college career working for an Upward Bound program that served low-income/first generation students in the city. Among the black boys I worked with over a three year span, for example, only four out of twelve earned a Bachelor's degree within six years of enrolling in college (33%). Of the remaining eight, one is still working towards his degree and another is employed. The last six, on the other hand, are doing absolutely nothing productive. As a matter of fact, a couple of them are big time drug dealers in the city.

I continued to see similar trends when I moved on to coach at the local community college, particularly through my basketball program. In addition to working with my guys, I have developed relationships with some of their younger siblings during my tenure. There was one little brother (Stretch) who stood out because he came to see his big brother play at every home game.

Stretch was an easy going 8th grader who possessed really long arms and above average athleticism for his age. As an acknowledgement of his basketball potential, and enthusiasm, I gave him a free pass to my summer basketball clinic where he dominated the competition. Unfortunately I lost touch with Stretch after his brother played for me.

Three years later when I ran into Stretch, he was enrolled at the local alternative school that's designated for emotionally troubled youth. He didn't even play a full year of high school ball despite all the promise I had seen years earlier. His older brother once told me that Stretch acted out frequently in school, but I never had any issues with him in the gym or at my summer clinic. The smile and energy that I remembered were gone when I saw him again. Outwardly, at least, Stretch had changed quite a bit.

One evening I happened to cross paths with Stretch's older brother at a grocery store and I asked how he was doing. The update was discouraging.

Brother: Dude is a gambling addict now.
Me: What? No way. Is he hooked on craps?
Brother: Nah. Poker. Dude can't stop playing.
Me: Where does he get the money to do that?
Brother: He'll start off with like $100 and work his way up then lose it all.
Me: Damn. That's really too bad.
Brother: You didn't hear what happened to him recently?
Me: No. What happened?
Brother: He's about to do time for a home invasion!

Coach Carter

I cut my nose to spite my face. I've never even seen the movie "Coach Carter", but some of my players have accused me of trying too hard to emulate the Hollywood reenactment of an African American coach who went above and beyond to redirect some troubled teens. I've levied quite a few suspensions over the years to teach lessons, but rarely does it feel like I'm punishing anybody other than myself.

During my second year on the job, I suspended my leading scorer from five different games for various infractions--a couple of which involved not showing up to class for weeks at a time. We finished the regular season that year with a meager 13-13 record despite having the ability to win 17-18 games. Instead of having a first round bye, we were forced to play in the tournament qualifier and lost that game. With two additional wins, we would've easily qualified for a first round bye. The young man who was suspended did well that year academically (2.6 GPA), but dropped out of college a month into school after he transferred.

A couple of seasons ago, I pulled the plug on my leading rebounder (who was also a starter and third leading scorer) for four games because he refused to do his school work even after being warned of a possible suspension. During that span of games, we went 2-2. When he finally came off suspension for the last game of that semester, we beat the tenth ranked team in the country at the buzzer in a very exciting game. Unfortunately, he only played in one more game because he regressed again after that game and failed off the team.

Last season, we had a shot at winning 20 games and it rested mainly on a wild-card, Firecracker, who was a very unique talent. Firecracker wasn't skilled by any means. He could only use his left hand, for example, and he had what many would deem as suspect ball handling skills and a below average jump shot. What separated him from every other player I've ever had here was his ability to get teammates to play like they were all on steroids.

Firecracker was a middle linebacker in high school who was very vocal and played with infectious high energy all the time. He was tough as nails too. It was outright amazing to see how he impacted games without scoring at all. Even the bench would go crazy during games. Our energy was so off the charts that the opposing coach contacted me after a preseason game to ask how I got my players to compete so hard. It wasn't my doing at all. Firecracker was the ring leader.

The only problem was that Firecracker was into extracurricular "stuff" and he refused to go to class or do any work. He felt like he could cut deals with Professors for Cs, but I wasn't having that.

Me: I like you a lot, man. There aren't many guys I like here as individuals, but you're a good dude. Do you realize this team could win twenty or more games this year because of what you bring?
Firecracker: I know. I feel like we could be good too.
Me: So then why don't you get your ass to class and do the work? It's not hard! Just do it.
Firecracker: I can't get here early, though.
Me: Why not?
Firecracker: You're a good guy, coach, so I won't lie to you. I'm up hustlin at night.
Me: Give it up. You're a natural born leader--like a Barack-type. You can't take that for granted. Redirect that energy! You're a CEO, dude!
Firecracker: It ain't that easy. I can't. I got bills to pay.
Me: Where are your parents?
Firecracker: (crying) Pops is locked up. He ain't shit. My mom works some bullshit job at Walmart.
Me: Then make your mom proud. Let her see that her hard work paid off! You have it in you.
Firecracker: I know but if I don't do this shit, we can't pay rent.

I wouldn't let him play unless he did the work, so he dropped out of school and we went 15-13 that season. At last check, Firecracker was still peddling drugs too...

Petty Crimes

Suave is in deep trouble. I feel bad about the way things turned out with him. Right now, Suave should be working towards his Bachelor's degree after playing four good years of college ball. Instead, he's just another example of wasted talent in this area. And to some degree I feel like I'm responsible for that.

I suspect every coach wishes he could hit the reset button on a few decisions. Over the course of a season I make numerous decisions that impact my players on a personal level. Those are the ones that live with me the longest. I know full well that if I decide to dismiss a player, his life may unravel afterwards.

I believe in having rules and enforcing them. For example, I have a zero tolerance policy when it comes to stealing. A few years ago I had an agreement with my players whereby anybody who finished with a GPA of over 2.5 could buy sneakers (valued at $90) for $10, and those who fell under that would pay $35 (as long as the GPA was above a 2.0). Everybody got that note except for Suave whose GPA was a respectable 2.43 when the semester ended.

Once grades came in I told everybody what was owed. Each individual came in and purchased his sneakers except for Suave. He balked at having to pay more than everybody else despite agreeing to the conditions initially. Instead of paying for the sneakers, Suave stole them from the team room where they were stashed. When I texted him to bring back the sneakers, he refused and said he'd pay $10 like everybody else. I gave him an ultimatum to either bring them back immediately, or run the risk of being suspended to start the following season.

He decided to call my bluff. Months after the incident, he paid the $35 but I decided it was much too late, especially since he hadn't offered an apology. I suspended Suave for five games to teach him a lesson. Upon returning I told Suave that he had to earn his way back into the starting line-up because in my mind the suspension wasn't enough. This was a big deal because he had been a starter, and our second leading scorer the year before. Six games after his return he decided to quit the team because he grew tired of waiting for his "rightful place" in the starting five...

I've often wondered if I went too far, and if the whole ordeal could've been avoided had I just allowed him to pay $10 since he fell just .07 points short of a 2.5. When he crossed the line, I decided to play hard ball and make him earn everything back because he violated a cardinal rule of mine. Recently I decided to reach out to see if I could help him get back on track.

Me: When are you coming back to school to earn some credits? You only need 12 more credits to transfer.
Suave: What's goin on, man? I got too much goin on right now to do school and plus I'm workin on playing overseas. You got any connects?
Me: I don't have overseas connects but you need to be more concerned with getting a degree then playing overseas right now.
Suave: I know, but me and my man's is workin out on the regular tryin to make this overseas thing happen. That's where my mind is at right now.
Me: How about you enroll in school again and keep working out? You gotta have a fall back plan. And plus you have two years of eligibility left.
Suave: I can't really do school right now because I got shit goin on. I might be doin time.
Me: For what?
Suave: Credit card fraud. They felony charges.

Book Bandit

I have lost faith in people. My love for the game of basketball has evolved manifold over the past six years, but my perception of people has changed drastically. It's hard to keep believing that people are inherently good when each season I witness teammates stealing from each other, or from other students on campus. I've even had a trusted assistant coach steal from me.

I began coaching at the junior college (JUCO) level as a way of redirecting young men who were considered to be hopeless. Years later I still care about the success of my players off the court, but I care just as much (if not more) about how they execute my offensive and defensive sets. Some would say that's a good thing because coaches are supposed to be obsessive technicians of their craft. However, I looked at my Division 3 JUCO gig initially as just a place where the city's forgotten boys could straighten themselves out academically while playing ball.

One of the darkest periods of my coaching tenure was during my third season at the helm. Damn near every guy on the team had a checkered past, but I ignored their trespasses. I wanted to give those guys a chance. At least once a week something ridiculous happened--whether it was a detective showing up at the gym looking for somebody, or a guy kicking in his teammate's car door because he was upset about something frivolous that happened during practice. Another cat pleaded his way into an apartment with his teammates, only to quit a month into the season which left his roommates with an extra $300 of rent to pay for six months. Virtually every guy I extended an olive branch to on that team squandered the opportunity in egregious fashion.

Years after that tumultuous experience, I ran into one of the guys from that team--Thuglife. He fashioned himself as an ex-street cat who left his hometown to get away from that life, but I quickly learned that he wasn't a tough guy. If I ever needed information about a player that season all I needed to do was mention the guy's name and he'd talk. True street types don't operate that way. He was truly a solid guy, but also a lost soul whose conception of being a young black man was warped.

In Thuglife fashion, he immediately started giving me unrequested information when we reconnected. I sat there as he reminisced about all of the shady things his teammates did during that crazy third season. For the most part I found the stories to be amusing, but one recollection really pissed me off.

Thuglife: Coach, you remember Armslong, right?
Me: Of course. What's he up to?
Thuglife: I don't really talk to him no more but that dude was all about some schemes that year.
Me: Armslong? Really? He was harmless.
Thuglife: Yeh. Okay. Haha.
Me: What schemes are you talking about?
Thuglife: (laughing hard) He was stealin books up there at the school.
Me: From the bookstore? I thought it was hard to steal from there?
Thuglife: Nah! He used to break into lockers downstairs in the gym and steal them.
Me: Why?
Thuglife: What you mean, why? He would just go across the street from campus and sell them at the used book store. Dude made mad money doin that!