Over familiarity
Anyone who has read this far might conclude that I have been overly familiar with some of the convicts at San Quentin. If such an observation, or accusation, were made, I would have to agree with it; according to all I have heard in the volunteer meetings, I have at least approached being too personally involved with inmates.
The count I just took in my head runs to over a dozen convicts. There has been nothing sexual, no contraband substances or items brought in,[1] nothing of a personal nature, but bonds of various types, even friendships, will be established–it cannot be helped or avoided.
Team sports are this way. I have played on and managed baseball teams for fifty-two years now and it never fails that there will be an inner core, maybe not extending to all, but a core of people with whom bonds of friendship will develop. It is part of the game. A team sport–you cannot do it alone; you are dependent on others. Winning as well as losing contribute to the bonding process. Sports are emotional to the extreme, the ups and downs can be dramatic, and especially has this been true in San Quentin.
Every game is an event, an experience. In North Block and in H Unit, the players will talk endlessly about the games and all that was a part of it. Nothing is too insignificant not to be examined minutely. There are few secrets among team members especially in a prison environment. There is no place to hide; it will come out, and in that place of vulnerability, bonds of friendship will form.
What will I remember ten years from now? I know, it will be the players, the coaches, the opposing players, too, it will not be scores of games or batting averages, no, it will be the people, it will be the winning and losing, the pain and frustration, the loves and the hates. Here was life and a touch of freedom. Here was a chance to be a kid again, innocent, and happy having fun.
When I think about my days at the prison I will remember the people–Pete, Bilal, Marcus, Red, Johnny, Curtis, Doug, Frankie, Terry, Stafont, Mike, Chuck, and a host of others. I will think of Kevin, Elliot, Mike, Stan–my dear friends. And I will think of Chaplain Earl Smith, who along with Leonard, Jimbo, Jason, and Tim got the whole program going. Then there is Don DeNevi who stuck with me through it all, the state employee who was my immediate supervisor. Wow, did we have a time of it, boys of summer, we did it together.
[1] Coaches will bring in certain items like cups for catchers, a pair of cleats for someone with either really small or large feet, maybe a glove even (2 players on the Giants are currently using my gloves and will likely have to keep them since I won’t be able to pick them up), and other items related strictly to baseball equipment needs.