Rage, anger, and hate
Three friends these, bosom buddies, without which some would go insane.
Not friends really but three emotions that reside in many who are living out their lives in prison. Two of these play on the A’s and I have become the focus of the evil that is within them. Bobby was present when someone was killed so received a long sentence due to the felony-murder rule. It was a drug deal gone wrong, a not unfamiliar circumstance. He heard the judge sentence him to twenty-five to life when he was eighteen. Now thirty-two and with another eleven years before he can be considered for parole, he will spend at least his twenties and thirties with Bubba and the boys. No girlfriend, no wife, no kids, no job, no friends, no nothing, and not much chance this will ever change. Rage, anger, and hate–this is all he’s got.
Joe is in the same hell hole except he is a three striker and with a longer sentence. Not sure what the strikes were as he never talks about the crime, but at age forty-five he could easily do another twenty years. Again, no wife, no kids, maybe a boyfriend, but nothing anyone would want to lay claim to; he lives with rage, anger, and hate.
Frankly, I do not feel bad for either of them; few would want them back on the streets.
You can get written up, a 115, and have more years added to your sentence or even be moved to another prison. It is this last possibility that keeps a lot of cons from losing control completely. San Quentin is a desired home, close to lawyers and courts, and outside visitors come into the prison seven days a week. Plus there are a myriad of programs, educational, and religious chapels, and there is baseball.
Neither Bobby or Joe are big tough guys; and few other cons, including A’s players, identify with them. When I ask for a reason for the power Bobby and Joe seem to have, I am told they are in tight with the “white boys.” I am not convinced of the truth of that. Based on what I have experienced over the years, I think I have become a convenient target to vent anger and frustration.
Why me? There are reasons among which are the fact that I have a loud mouth; sometimes I am too belligerent and unyielding, and sometimes my efforts to bring correction and discipline to those I think need it is not appreciated. Apparently, I have developed a bad reputation amongst some convicts. I have been dumped into the category of a bad cop. This has gone on for years, but Bobby and Joe have played the con with precision this year. One thing for sure, I am not perfect, and I can be a real ass hole–I admit it. Nothing new.
I saw it last year. There was a rumor I was a racist. It did not get very far because of the fairly even numbers of the races on the Giants. This year the rumor got more traction as I was accused of reverse racism. As it happened there were only two whites on the Giants, no Hispanics or Pacific Islanders, so it was racism but different. This was dangerous and maybe was why a kite was dropped saying that I was going to be killed. A “kite” may be written or whispered, but it gets to a correctional officer who is then bound to report it and so I get a call from the investigative unit saying I can no longer come into the prison. The season is nearly over, and I still cannot come back in.
The cops in charge of investigations started interviewing inmates and the accusations mushroomed to the point my beige, or volunteer, card was pulled. I am effectively barred from returning for the rest of the year.
Just before the kite was dropped, I made an appointment with a higher-up type in the warden’s office who assured me that the rumors I was hearing would be dealt with and speedily. He told me, “You have nothing to worry about.”
I am still not sure what happened, but two days after the talk I had with the higher-up the kite was communicated and here I sit, writing this which is as close as I will get to the team and the game I love, at least this year. I may never get back.
Rage, anger, and hate must go somewhere, mainly either in or out. Now I have to deal with these myself. They are not friends; I don’t want them, that is clear. Knowing this is not helping right now though, in fact, it is plain that I am not fairing so well.