Part 2: Welcome to the 208

     I was super excited about the opportunity to travel up to Idaho to begin my life as a college student-athlete. Yes, student before athlete. A few of the reasons I chose to play at the College of Idaho were: 1) strong academics 2) tradition of success for basketball 3) free laptop and 4) the chance to possibly be a freshman starting point guard. The free laptop with wifi had me hyped because it would be the first time I had my own computer and I could use it anywhere on campus. I know the bar is low for excitement for me but hey. 

    I remember packing up the borrowed Nissan Xterra from my mom's colleague and then hugging my granny before hitting the I-15 heading north towards Salt Lake; all I can see is the happiness yet sadness in leaving my family for the first time. Granny left me with some words of wisdom and of course praying over me (thanks for covering me, Granny). I and mom hopped in the Xterra, next stop: 2112 Cleveland Blvd.!

    As we are driving, I have a million different ideas of what my first days on campus would be like. I'm thinking about who my classmates would be, how will my teammates and coaches respond to me (I wore my hats backward and I had braids), what it will be like to sit in a college class, etc. The one thing that never crossed my mind was, would I be the only one? When I speak of being the only one, would I be the only Black student on campus? Can't be possible, my teammate Eric Hare would be a senior (E. Hare is Blaxican. A year later my Vegas brotha Eric Howard was on campus for one year) but I didn't see any others on the team rosters for the sports teams or webpage. What did I sign up for?

    I don't remember any of the conversations I and mom had along the way but I am sure she didn't say everything she wanted to. I know she was proud of me and excited that her son had made it but I am sure she was scared as hell dropping her son off at school and detaching for the first time. I can say that she raised me right with discipline, love, and provided me the opportunity to find my way. The day I signed my letter of intent, she stood in the room over my shoulder in her coyotes' shirt. As a junior, we had one discussion about college. I mentioned to her that I had a little buzz around me playing volleyball at the time and none from basketball surprisingly. But her words to me were: I don't how we will get to college, just as long as you go. That took any and all pressure off of my shoulders. I had made a promise to her many years ago that I would attend college and that day was coming. 

    Quick flashback. When I was in eighth grade, it was routine for the local magnet schools in the city to go around to the different schools to present themselves and their programs to the rising ninth graders. We would get geeked because it meant there would be assembly when they showed up which means we got to miss class. I was not interested in one particular school so I chose to apply to all of them and see what's up. No harm, no foul. Smokey (who was a childhood friend from elementary and later AAU teammate) had an older brother that graduated from Advanced Technologies Academy (A-Tech) which had been considered the top magnet in Nevada for some years. With reluctance and submitting the application on the last day (it was paper-based of course) I didn't give it a thought that I would be the only black person on campus.  In my two years at A-Tech, I was not the only Black person on campus I was part of a small group, maybe 20, among the other approximate 780 students enrolled. This environment was only preparing me for my future. It's amazing how God places you in situations that will only help prepare you for your purpose. I only spent two years at A-Tech for the lack of sense of belonging and I was not empowered. I do wish I persevered but at that time, I had to move on.

    Back to the story. As we exited  I-84 headed to Caldwell, a scene I had vaguely remembered from recruiting trip that April. As we made our way down the Simplot hill, cross the tracks and at the third light stood Albertson College of Idaho. This would be my home for the next four years. Only keeping it to myself but inwardly I said, 'mama I made it!' Anderson Hall is where I would stay my freshman year (these were single roomed dorms and unbeknowst to me, you had to maintain a certain GPA. I only spent one year there lol).  A few doors down from me was my teammate Andy Harper who would be my favorite teammates because of his fire and competitor nature which drove me. For incoming freshmen, there was an overnight orientation out in McCall. After loading and unloading the bus, it was very obvious I was the only one, at least in my freshman class. Survival skills from A-Tech were activated. 

    I remember returning to campus after orientation as the other students began to make their way back to campus that I was no longer in Kansas. The campus became less diversed than places I had attended in Vegas. As I crossed campus on a walk, someone stopped and asked my name. I told them who I wahich was followed by an invite to a party at the fraternity house that night. But the funny part of the conversation, without me saying anything, I was asked if I were on the basketball team (at this time I didn't know the term microaggression but this definitely was one). Thinking nothing of it, I answered yes. I later realized the reason this question was asked. During my four years at ACI I can count on three fingers at how many Blacks on campus different points, all of us were tied to the basketball program. Go figure. The beautiful part is that we were STUDENT-athletes. 

    At Albertson College, I had the opportunity to grow as a student, athlete, and even more importantly a person. I was embraced by the school community and those with a vested interest in the college. In my time there, I was never the best player on the team or make any all-conference teams but to my peers and season ticket holders, those who matter, I was regarded as one of their favorite people. Dan Lew (god rest his soul) told me, "you will be great, I don't care what your coach says. you will be great". I loved playing in the JA Anderson Activities center on Fridays and Saturdays during my four years but the special moments came for me after. After games, I would go hang out in the gym to talk with any fans who left, family members of teammates or play with coaches kids who were still around. Having these individuals express their gratitude and love for me is indescribable. Here is where I learned that I will carry the daily burden of my ancestors but wear it as a badge of honor. To know that I meant something to people outside my ability to dribble a ball, gave me value. Though at times I missed having a homeboy around that I could talk music or shows with, I did take instride new opportunities to learn from those he didn't look like me. 

    I was just a skinny kid from Vegas with a dream of playing ball and I did that. I am grateful for Coach Olson at Eldorado High School for him making that call to his alma mater for me. Thanks to Coaches Owen, Matlock, and Holly for seeing enough in me to positive contributor to the ACI community. As it has been said that growth that does not happen in comfort. I learned this lesson twice within an eight-year span. I look back with fondness on my days at 2112 Cleveland Boulevard because those four years helped prepare me to step into a world that mimicked the campus I inhabited. My lessons from being one of a few and the only one has allowed me to step before others and lead, it has allowed me to be comfortable in spaces where I may not always be welcomed. But I stand with pride and take honor in being the only one. 

Part 1: West Coast'n Summer 2001

     "D. Brown, who is recruiting you?" "What college you going to attend?" These were some common questions being asked of me during the fall and spring of my senior year. In the summer of 2001, is when I got my first taste of what a recruited athlete feels like. That summer I was able to position myself to be an attendee at the West Coast All-Star Camp being held on the campus of Cal St. Dominguez Hills over in Carson, California. When I say position myself, it was literally that. My two godbrothers were two highly touted football and basketball players in Las Vegas at the time. They had gained the fondness of Coaches Shawn and Merril who would help put them in a position to showcase their talent for college coaches. I ended up getting myself onto the AAU team through my association with them, just trying to see what I could make of the opportunity. By July, we had started to formulate a lot of buzz around the squad which meant we started to attract more talented players in the area. For a brief stint, we had my boy CJ Watson who went on to spend years in the league along with guys like Frank Brown (no relation), Martrell Johnson (Rest in Paradise Big Dawg), Robert 'Smokey' Young, Tae Matthews, Jason Petrimoux and of course my godbrothers, Keith and Kevin Richardson. Based upon that list of talent, I had to be like the 12th man on a ten-man roster. 

    The day came to travel to Cali for the camp. I had no spending money nor did I have the $500 fee associated with the camp. I don't know what I was doing. Who was paying for this kid to get to camp? The question never came up as we drove the I-15 headed to Los Angeles. Every second along the way I am just waiting for the bomb to drop, "do you have your camp money?" We had finally arrived in Carson on the campus of Cal St-Dominguez Hills. Outside of attending a football camp at UNLV or a quick stop at USC, it was the first college campus outside of Vegas that I would stay overnight--or that what I was hoping for. Seeing the college students walk on campus and knowing were would be housed with the summer school students, got me super excited. I thought to myself, 'bruh you can't stay, you don't have the money!' 

    The moment of truth came the next morning. We were lined up at the registration desk. I am looking around at the other campers with hopes of getting that college scholly. Some I recognized on the AAU circuit and others I would learn that such and such was the number X rated player in the country. As each camper gets processed, I become more and more nervous. I would be so embarrassed getting to the front of the line and being denied. I played it cool until they asked for the camp fee. I quickly moved to the side and looked at Coach Shawn, my heart was beating out of my chest. I'm thinking oh shit! But just like my other teammates who went down, the coaching staff took care of the bill.  UNREAL. MOMENT. OF. MY. LIFE. From that point on, I knew it was on and popping at camp.

     In the 8th grade, Coach Williams gave me the green light to be the man. That was followed up in high by the likes of Coach Washington and Thompson (God rest both men's soul, thanks coach!). While at Dominguez Hills, I had the opportunity to continue to showcase my talent. Though I loved being a part of a talented team, my role was strictly that of a reserve and defensive specialist. I had more to offer than just energy and making the opposing team's best player as miserable as possible. I could shoot, handle, pass, and still defend at a high level. I had just come off helping lead my team the state tournament and made some divisional/conference teams my junior years. Coach Zach (pseudo name) allowed me to flourish and put in positions to show what I had to offer. I will be honest, being a 5'9, 140ish pound guard really didn't scream D1 but it did say I could compete. 

    Camp was everything to me that summer. It was five days of being away from home, making new friendships, being able to learn more of the game, and gave me the chance to step out of the shadows of my teammates. There were some rumblings that I was being considered one of the best players at camp that week. That was a major ego boost, but I knew who the top guys were, it was a clear separation, but hey for a day or two, I was being talked about in the same category. My greatest memory from the camp came when we got the center stage game against University of Texas signee Kenton Paulino. My hopes for the game were to not be embarrassed and just to hold my own. I was able to do that and a bit more. Camp coaches were impressed with the D I played which led to some love being shown my way after the game. He did he thing as anticipated but I went out firing. They won the game but I won some hype. 

    My stellar play led me to be in one of the camp's end of week all-star games. What an honor that was. At the beginning of the week, I came with hopes of just getting into camp with no money in my pocket, and by the end of the week, I was standing on the floor with 19 others who performed well enough to get invited into the game. Out of the 8 players or so that traveled to LA, there were maybe two of us that made an all-star team.

    All I wanted was an opportunity. Walking passed the board daily where college coaches would sign to show their presence inspired me each morning we had a session. I took advantage of the early morning camp sessions and evening sessions that were optional. I did everything I could to position myself for an opportunity to play at the next level. The only regret I had about my experience was not believing in myself beforehand as if I didn't belong. I proved that I belonged. 

    In fall 2001, I received my first letter. It was pinned on Coach Thompson's bulletin in his office. When he said, "D, I got a letter for you", it all changed for me. It was from Western Washington University. YES!!!! My first letter. I don't know why the letter had already been opened but the excitement I showed quickly went away when I read who it was addressed to. It was addressed to Frank Brown (my AAU teammate) but he name was crossed off and mine was written just above. I had to call the coach and ask if it were meant for me and excited he said yes! Again, it was on and popping. 

    Though I never laced them up to be a Viking, that moment was everything to me. Receiving a recruitment letter is one thing but then talking with the coaches is another. That year I received some other letters and interest but nothing like WWU. They couldn't offer me a scholly but there was a small school in Caldwell, Idaho that was willing to take the chance on the skinny kid from the Northeast side of Vegas. Much love and respect to Coaches Owen, Matlock, and  Holly for seeing something in me. I believe what set me apart were my grades and character. 

    Never underestimate the power of timing and blessing. I am living proof of both. Ball was the vehicle but who I was the hook. 

When Is It Okay to Be Black?

When Is It Okay to Be Black?

This isn't a post about Black Pride but more so of permission to be who I am, black.  The stereotypes and bias' towards people of color are real and until there is the recognition that this happens, we will continue to perpetuate the sense of not belonging.  This is a daily struggle for myself along with many other people of color who wake up every day trying to figure out how to be themselves.  My appearance and my ancestry give me my 'blackness' but in the manner that I live is not considered being 'black'.  From the way I may talk to things I enjoy in life, there can be a separation of what is determined to be black. So how does someone determine if I'm black or if I'm acting so-called white?

The story of inner-city black male: comes from a fatherless home, mother working to take care of the family (or the addict parents), welfare recipient, either you play sports or sell drugs, graduating high school is a dream, attending college is merely a dream, have a child in your teens, and the infamous incarceration.  You know the same story.  Better yet, it is the one story that has been perpetuated. It makes me think that there is a checklist that we must abide by to get our so-called hood card.  When you decide to wear khaki pants, polo shirts, and boat shoes over the new trend with the Jordan's or Yeezy's plus whatever 'gear' that is in, then you are considered on the outside (better be sure to have your approved uniform). So those who live outside of this circle, are they not black enough?

I have heard the saying, 'do it for the culture' repeatedly stated. Merriam-Webster defines culture as the characteristic features of everyday existence (such as diversions or a way of life) shared by people in a place or time. My idea of doing it for the culture was to put on like everyone else, fall in line and conform to the cool. Doing things for the culture. But after some thought, doing it for the culture took on a different meaning to me. My ancestors lost their lives and advanced their people to one day not be the property of others nor be the illiterate population that we were once conditioned to. Doing it for the culture for me is to expand the boundaries of comfort and giving life to the mere idea of living limitless. The culture is much bigger than conformity. It is about trailblazing and giving others the permission to do what others had always thought was weird, different. So every day I do it for the culture!

In my journeys since leaving the United States in the fall of 2014, there has been one thing consistent. No matter where I go in this world as I am black. I take a sense 0f pride in that fact. I take pride because I get to be an ambassador for my culture. My mindset is that I may be the first black person or American that this person has met; that comes with great expectation. My goal is that they walk away with a different narrative that has been portrayed in the media and entertainment. I have the opportunity to change the minds and maybe even the hearts of those who had preconceived notions of blacks. 

As a people, we must understand that we do not have the right to determine if someone is black enough for the culture to accept them. Through inheritance, I have culture and that can't be denied. You nor I get to determine what the guidelines of blackness but we do have a responsibility in caring it forward. It is our job to understand that within the culture, there is a variety that allows for individuals to be unique without the fear of not being like everyone else.  Those who step out to show who they are can unlock the chains on others that give them permission to do them. 

So when is it okay to be Black? Every DAMN  day of my life. I love being black, that will never change. 

*Post was originally started April 2019