The Sophomore year...

A trophy I received for helping the
Varsity Track team win a meet.

Summer of 1982 was starting out pretty bad around the house because I was really missing my friends from school.  I found myself sitting alone at home for several days just wishing and praying that a neighborhood friend would come by to visit.  The streets were rather quiet because we were already having some of the hottest days of summer that I have felt in my young life.  It was too hot to be outside after 11:00 am, and too boring to stay inside stuck in my room.  But in my room was where I was safe from harm and hot tempers.  Yes I am speaking of my uncle Ted, that same mean bastard that has been around the house for a llittle over a year since he retired.

That hot summer was also the year he decided to turn the covered patio area into a den.  The good thing about this was the fact that it would give him something to do to take his mind off of whatever it was at the time.  Each morning he would wake my aunt and I up early to start working on the construction.  In his head, he thought that hard work in the early morning would turn me into the man he wanted me to be.  Someone that works hard each morning and strives toward making accomplishments each day of his life.  That sounds great when you read it, but those are my words, not his.  His words would read more like this:  "Time to get your lazy @$$ out of bed and do something for a change.  All you do is sit in front of that stupid machine and punch in these retarded numbers".  In 1982, what he was referring to as the "stupid machine" was my Commodore VIC-20 computer.  I would sit there for hours going through computer articles looking for machine code to input.  For you young ones, back then we didn't have programs and games that came in a box, you had to load the code language and then have the computer compile the data into a usable program.  There would be pages and pages of code that I would sit and enter by hand.  There was no RAM or Hard Drives at the time, we used 5 1/4 inch floppy drives...and that was amazing at the time!

Now, during the construction phases of my days, I would be the "gopher" for my uncle.  I was always having to go get this, go get that...and of course I didn't know what he was talking about most of the time.  I was only 14 and never liked manual labor because I preferred to work on a computer.  So of course, as the hot sun rose higher and higher, I would make sure to screw up more and more in the hopes that he would get tired of me being his "gopher" and just tell me to go to my room.  It worked for a while, but then he caught on and just made me stay even longer.  But that all came to a quick end when he was so mad at me for bringing him the wrong tool, that he smack me across the face. I fell off the roof of the patio but landed on the patio furniture that was luckily on that side of the yard.  I wasn't physically hurt by the fall, but I was mentally and emotionally hurt.  To my surprise, I was wishing that someone else would have seen him do that and call the police, but the neighbor that saw it, lost his kids because of physical abuse.  Needless to say, I just picked myself up, tried my best to stop the tears from streaming down my face...but that was like holding back the Nile river with a dam made of tissue paper.

Again, I sit in my room, licking my wounds and going to make up another story of why my face shows yet another hand mark that was not the same size as my own hand.  I was getting pretty good and making up stories to go along with bruises.  In a sense, I can thank my uncle for my well developed imagination, because I had to use it often when I was younger.  The rest of the summer went basically the same for several weeks, but at least I know what a post-digger, crow-bar, chisel, mallet, vise-grip, crescent wrench, monkey wrench and sockets were.  (Those were the items that I was told to bring to him, but would pick the wrong item...then BAM...you know the rest).

Ahh, summer is at an end and school will be starting in two days.  I couldn't wait to get back to school and all of my dear friends that I made.  Of course, when we all get together and talk about "what did you do over the summer" I will try to just fade into the background and listen to all the great things my friends did over the summer.  There was no way I could tell them about anything I did during the summer.  But now that I look back...I should have told someone of the things that were going on at home.

School is in full swing and I decide to go out for the soccer team during the winter sports.  I played soccer before in grammar school and junior high, but this was different...it was high school.  I doubted my chances to play on the team because I knew many of the players were in the AYSO league and they were really good.  I was just a kid from the hood that liked soccer, and was never good at basketball.  I know..."a black guy not playing basketball"...well that was me!  But there was a great benefit that I would get from soccer...long practices afterschool which meant that I didn't have to go home for a few more hours each day.  SIGN ME UP!

Since I had no ball control, I was on defense, because I did have one thing on my side...speed!  I was a very fast runner and was able to chase down any one on the soccer field.  That speed and the help of a few friends giving me pointers on ball control, got me on the JV soccer team.  Practicing each day was a blast, even though it was winter, after running for about 5 minutes, I was thankful for the cold weather!  Playing soccer that winter would turn out to be the greatest thing I did for myself at the time.  I built up a lot of endurance and took that endurance right into the Track and Field season.

Oh man, it's track season baby...that one time of the year that you are on a team, but your individual performance is what wins meets and championships!!! I was in-shape, great endurance, healthy and fit!  I was not in pain like those that did not play a winter sport.  I was ready to take on the league and anyone else that presented themself on my field of battle...THE TRIPLE JUMP PIT.  It's just a hop, step and a jump baby!

That track season became my strength to overcome everything in my life up to that point.  Meet after meet, team after team, the Tulare Union Redskins where taking names and kicking butt.  Next to the Valley Track Meet at the end of the season, there was one major central valley meet and that was the Tulare Elks Relay meet.  Schools from all over the valley from Fresno to Bakersfield would come to that meet.  That would be the one time in the season that our stadium had more people in it then when there is a football game.  This was the prize meet for everyone because if you placed in this meet, that meant you were one of the best in Central California.

Two days prior to the Elks Relay, I read an article in the Tulare Advance-Register (newspaper) that was written by the sports reporter talking about the Elks Relay.  As I read along, I see that one of our head coaches has spoken with the reporter about a few of us on the team.  I loved to read about anyone on our team in the paper, because I felt proud to be with them on this incredible team.  As I am reading along, I lose my breathe because my coach mentioned my name in the story.  I am only a sophmore and I am mentioned in the city newspaper as one of the best in the valley!!!!  I couldn't believe what I was reading, I pinched myself to ensure that I was not dreaming. After jumping up and down on my bed from excitement, I ran into the kitchen and asked my aunt to read what it said.  She looked at me with such delight in her eyes and said, "Michael, I know your name is in there, because I read the paper earlier, and I just want to say how proud of you I am at this moment". If I was a balloon at that moment I would have floated away.

The day of the meet came and I was more nervous than a "long tail squirrel in a room full of rocking chairs".  I woke up early, did a little bit of a stretch and ate breakfast.  Jumped in the shower, got dressed and sat on the front steps for a while.  Just sitting there with my thoughts and my nerves.  My aunt woke up and noticed me sitting outside in my uniform.  She came to the door and told me, "good luck Mike, I know you will do fine today, just believe in yourself".  Those words rang through my ears all day, because that is what I needed to hear from her.

A few hours later and we are well into the meet and there are hundreds of people there, schools from all over the valley.  I hear over the loud speaker, "Triple Jump will begin in 15 minutes, all jumpers please report".  My heart skipped a beat...the annoucer says it again...my heart begins to race.  It is time for me to do what I came here to do.  I gather my things and get myself in the right frame of mind quickly.  As I get ready, my teammates are around me and cheer me on.  I feel a certain amount of pride develop in my body as I walk the path to the pit.  As I approach the pit I realize..."This is my house, this is my pit, nobody comes into my house and beats me".  It is true, because that stadium is the Tulare stadium where our team practices everyday.  This is MY HOUSE!

I take my first 3 jumps of the day and they are really good, but I am in second place at the moment.  Some guy from Bakersfield is just a few inches ahead of me.  But that all changed on my final jump.  I was standing at the south end of the stadium and to me, there was nobody else there.  I focused my attention on the runway and envisioned the jump I was about to perform.  A lite summer breeze began to blow as I prepared to begin my approach.  With my hands at my sides, and my right foot in the lead position, I began to rock back and forth, on the seventh forward motion...I began my run.  Each step felt like it was taking a lifetime to put down and pick up. My eyes spotted the board and I quickly made a mental adjustment to my stride.  I refocused my eyes to the end of the sand pit and began my jump...right, right, left...land in the pit and allow my forward motion to carry me through the pit.  I had to wait 2 seconds to see if the line judge said that it was a good jump, and he did.  As I walked back to find out my measurement of the jump, my teammates and my coach are going nuts in the stands.  I assumed that they were watching a race on the track, but to my surprise they were cheering for me.  As I approach the judge, I hear the measurement, 45' 4-1/4"...I took over first place by 3 feet.  I couldn't believe it...that was the longest jump of my life at the time and I went 3 feet further than anyone else.  My teammates came around and congratulated me and for the first time in my life, I felt totally alive and full of pride.

At the end of the meet, our Freshman/Sophomore team did not win the meet, however I was the only Freshman/Sophmore from Tulare Union that won a gold medal that year.  I still have that metal and it is sitting in my living room on a bookcase.  From time to time, I will dust it off and wear it around my neck again, just to re-live that moment. 

It was an absolutely incredible day...but all good things must come to an end......my uncle was parked just outside the fence watching me.  Not once did he cheer me on, not once did he say "good job"...but he did say one thing..."stop with all of this stupid jumping crap and do running events like a real man".  A few of my teammates and friends were with me at that moment, and they were totally shocked and embarassed for me.

That was it...that was really it...I was finally at the end of my rope with him.  He took from me the most happiest day of my young life. What he did was unforgiveable to me and he was going to pay the price for that insult.  What he didn't realize after making that statement is that he just created a monster....and that monster was coming for some serious payback............................