FOLLOW THE WILDCATS: Hectic Negotations Part II

The following blog post was taken from its original location, found here

Welcome to “Follow the Wildcats.” This recent basketball season I did my best to keep an accurate journal of the center-city high school basketball team for which I was the first-year head coach. “Follow the Wildcats” is a compilation of many stories, told through the lens of the Wildcats’ lives. Names and identities of people and places have been changed in deference to the people involved. But all of these stories are 100% true. Everything happened. Boy, did it ever.

Four Wildcats sitting in cop cars. Four hours to the Wildcats’ first game. I decided that before the cruisers drove to the station I should check in with all four of my players, at least to let them know I’d meet them at the station.

“We didn’t know they was comin’, Coach,” Nique said.

In the second car, Tyrone was having none of it as I tried to keep things positive. He sat up in the back seat, a scowl on his face, mumbling curse words. Maybe he had a right to. Tyrone was the obvious culprit in the surveillance video, and as far as I knew, he had numerous priors and convictions.

It was the presence of Reggie in the car with Tyrone that really irked me. Reggie was 15, an honors student. He had been arrested once before, but only because of something Julius, his brother, had done when they were on a train together. He shouldn’t have been in the store in the first place, but he was young and impressionable and he had followed the older boys.

Debo, by himself in a third car, was still shouting obscenities at the police. I told him to calm down. I told to him to calm the fuck down. He looked at me and just continued pleading his case. “Fuckin’ dudes come to the school while we’re playing ball out back and just take us out,” he said, shaking his head, “somebody from the school must have snitched.” I told him I’d see him at the station.

I had also told all four of them I’d get them out. Now I needed to see if I could. And I still wanted them to play tonight against Shortbridge Tech. I’d have to convince their guardians to sign them over to me so I could take them to the game. I had no idea if I could even do that.

I knew I didn’t know all the policies, and I knew I didn’t want to pit myself against the staff. I knew I was the rookie here at Charternet.

But I also knew the Wildcats had come together as a team. And I just had to believe that taking that away from them now because they had committed a crime could potentially mean more crime, more similar behavior, a revolt against their loss.

I walked down the sidewalk toward the school entrance, making my way through the students, staff. Inside, Mr. Sampson was calmly speaking with an officer. I had never envied his job, the way he had to balance sincere care for the students with the need to play fair with the law. Too often, it seemed to me, the students called him a cop and refused to trust him.

As the cop cars drove off, the English teacher who had sent me the text came back into the building. A veteran at the school, she was relatively unshaken by these current events.  ”Well,” she said, her arms folded, “tonight’s game might be a bit harder than you thought.”

COME BACK SOON FOR MORE FROM “FOLLOW THE WILDCATS!”

NEXT UP: The System

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