Early troubles
A memo announcing Tryouts for the baseball teams was posted well in advance of Saturday February 26. Fifty plus convicts came to tryout and the coaches were all present armed with clip boards and pens. After warm-ups, throwing, some running, we started the basic rotation drill to watch the guys field grounders, throw, and catch. Then we gathered names for those who wanted to tryout, noting their housing, release date, and desired position.
Right away it became clear we had a problem: a little more than half of the guys who were trying out said they would be playing for the A’s. That meant they were not intending to play for the Giants, the team of which I was head coach.
The idea for a second team, the B team, the A’s, emerged late last season. Originally there was supposed to be an intramural prison league developed, but it morphed, due to my weakness and desire to please, into something more. Basically the intramural team started bragging they were better than the Giants. For some reason I allowed the two teams to play each other and even brought in two outside teams for the second team to play. Now I am paying for it.
After a series of meetings with convicts and prison staff, I agreed to run two teams for 2011. There was not enough of the old Pirates uniforms to make it work, so I wrote a letter to the major league Oakland A’s and they were gracious enough to provide a full set of really nice uniforms. This is how the second team became the A’s.
The volunteer “beige”[1] card holder who was to oversee the second group allowed the inmates to run the entirety of the operation. He did that well enough, but he had no real say in the process, including making out the lineup and other duties always assumed by the team manager.
In time I woke up to the problem and as a result brought in two old friends, Ed and Ollie, to manage the A’s team with the other coach yet working with the players. It seemed like a solution.
The first day of tryouts then my solution fizzled. The inmates were in charge.[2] Even Steve, Ed, and Ollie, the guys who were to run the B team, were left out though I tried to intervene. One particular inmate, a youngish white guy named Bobby, a good ball player, had taken control of the team. I mean solid control. He had it all mapped out, planned out, and that would be it. He had already determined who would be playing for the A’s, so the tryouts were a farce.
One of my concerns was that the team is mostly white, one black but a necessity since he is the only actual starting pitcher. Looks a little like the Aryan Brotherhood with a token black thrown in for appearances sake. That may not be entirely accurate, but the thought went through my mind.
The de-facto manager, Bobby, also had plans to start an intramural league on top of it all, which he announced to me though he knew I am supposed to be in charge of the baseball program. Actually this man is now in charge of the second team and I will have to do something to alter what he already has in place. The B team coaches, and due to no fault of their own, will either not survive the situation, but more likely, will refuse to be a part of it. These men are real baseball guys who have years of experience running baseball clubs.
With Ed and Ollie out, or marginalized at best, Steve will merely watch the proceedings and allow the inmates to run the A’s. Already there is pressure on me to allow them to have the same status as the Giants in terms of practice time and schedule. I have a decision to make. My gut tells me to withdraw now. It is nothing but a collision about to happen. If I give in, the program could easily end. The A’s, lacking strong leadership, will deteriorate into an arguing bunch of cons.
Sure someone else could run the program and I would hate to give it up much less have it taken from me. I enjoy the whole thing; it is real baseball and like others, I am fascinated with developing the system. But I resent being pushed around, maybe out, by the convicts.
Bobby, the de facto manager of the A’s informed me that those state employees in charge of education/recreation are behind him. Indeed, I found that the usual convict manipulation had been under way. This sort of thing is a constant in prison. It is often called making a “duck” out of someone. It usually begins with flattery, working hard to help a staffer, favorably comparing the person with others, then slowly, and ever so carefully asking for a favor. Granting the favor is going to be a violation of the state’s operating manual, and could also be a crime, and once committed, things are headed down a very slippery and dangerous slope. It is easy to adopt the inmate’s world view and begin to both sympathize and empathize with them. Once that is done, the inmates have a duck.
Every year it is strife and anxiety for me. Why do I subject myself to it? Is it the adrenaline rush I get from being at the prison–which I do think I experience. Maybe it is the little bit of media attention that comes my way? Do I pride myself on my longevity as baseball coach at San Quentin? Maybe I just like being called “coach,” which is what one player told me was why I came in year after year. Could be some of all of these. Who cares, I do it and that is about it. So another year looms full of the usual potential for constant conflict and unnecessary stress–which go together to produce an unsafe environment for me physically and emotionally.
[1] Prior to 2011 the ID card for volunteers who had earned the right to enter and move about the prison without an escort to conduct whatever it was they were doing was called a “brown card.” That was due to the card’s brown border. For some reason brown went to beige so we are stuck with beige card.
[2] Volunteers have only so much authority and we depend on the cooperation of the inmates. Without that, nothing much happens.