offered information to Davis to prove that he was
not the snitch that ruined the gang. One of the cops on Bobby G.’s
payroll told him which members ratted out the gang by turning
state’s star witnesses. At first, Davis shook his head in denial.
He could not fathom the betrayal by the people Bobby named. He
finally believed Bobby as he disclosed the particulars of the
witness protection arrangements. By telling Davis these details,
Bobby probably signed their death sentence. Davis and the remaining
gang members were unforgiving.
The two cousins caught up on lost time in a calm,
quiet conversation about gang members alive and dead. By now, Davis
had switched flags into a new gang. He was working the same drug
territory as always but with new colors. Bobby G. told Davis about
his high school sports book and street agent business.
After things settled down and the cousins finished
catching-up, Bobby turned to Marcus and thanked him for
intervening. He listened to Marcus’ arrest situation and
sympathetically stated that Marcus should not have been arrested
for a misunderstanding like that. He befriended him and in the next
few hours, they talked about the parts of the city where each grew
up. Marcus talked with great pride about Jamal, his 7 th grade son.
Bobby G. asked if his son was a baller and without
disclosing his line of business, he told Marcus that he was loosely
associated with high school basketball.
“Jamal is an ok player, but certainly not
spectacular.”
“How big is he?” the street agent asked.
“6 foot 2.”
“Shit. I wish I had that size in 7 th grade. Hell, I wish I were that tall in high school. Why can’t he
play?”
“Well, I’m thinking that he isn’t getting proper
coaching on his middle school team,” answered Marcus.
“Is he playing on an NAU or travelling team?”
“No, we recently moved out to the suburban town of
East End, and when I asked about travelling basketball, the ass
wipes told me the team was formed in 5 th grade and there
were no current openings.”
“Look, I know lots of NAU coaches in the city who
owe me something for one reason or another. If you want I could
have one of them check out your boy’s game.”
“Really? That would be huge. He needs the
experience. I would be grateful for that.”
“No, Holmes, we’d be square. You took care of me
when cuz Davis was melting down. Remember this phone number and
call me on Monday. I will get him his shot; the rest is up to
Jamal.”
Marcus stayed up all night despite making friends
with Bobby G. and Davis. The other people were scary, and he did
not dare fall asleep in the holding tank. Some of the men in the
cage acted like animals and slapped or punched a fellow detainee if
they snored or made any kind noise while sleeping. Around six in
the morning, the guards told all the arrestees to move to the back
of the cage. One guard stepped back and the other opened the cage
door.
Bobby G. had called his mouthpiece to spring Davis
Fryer and himself. He was hoping that the Heeb got him bail in the
night court. No luck; someone else pulled the strings a little
faster.
“Marcus Imari, step forward. You have made bail.
Money came in all the way from Las Vegas. You’re out of here.”
Chapter Five. Amateur Beginnings
Somewhere along the way, the National Athletic Union
(NAU) ceded the Olympic Team responsibilities to the US Olympic
Committee and had to makeover its mission. The organization made a
decision to focus on high-level youth sports. The NAU was looking
for partners to help accelerate its foray into expanding its
support of elite young athletics.
For many years, most high school and college players
were wearing “Chuck Taylors”, a relatively low-cost high top
sneaker with virtually no ankle support. Wealthy kids in the
neighborhood wore the more stylish, low top “Jack Purcels”,
originally sold as a tennis shoe for clay courts and certainly not
well suited for the rigors of basketball. Adidas