...and I feel like I should set the stage just a bit.
We're in Frankfort, KY. My son's 9th-grade team played their first two games and they went fine. We were beaten in one game by a 25-foot bank at the buzzer, but it was all fine. We played relatively well.
Earlier in the day we'd seen an 8th grade team from Richmond play. They had one kid who was the embodiment of Jon Hood. Walked like him, stood like him, had the same hair--it was uncanny. Kid could really play. Otherwise they were just decent for an 8th grade team.
But there was something odd about this team. One, they didn't have a coach so much as just a random guy sitting on the bench. In the second game we saw, the guy said nothing; he just sat there. Two, the players were constantly fighting amongst themselves; at one point their two best players got into it. Three, there were no parents with this group that I could see.
Anyway, we watch them play a team from Lexington. They win easily, and afterward there's a near-scuffle in the handshake line. Kids are separated. I made the comment to somebody I was sitting by that this crap always happens in AAU ball: near-fights, kids mouthing off, no real adults in the vicinity.
Okay, so flash forward to 5:30 that evening. This team from Richmond is in the championship of the 8th grade division. They're playing a team from Louisville called Louisville 300 and the game is close. It goes to overtime--nobody scores. Double overtime--nobody scores. They are forced to go to sudden death because my son's team was waiting on the sideline and at this point they'd run over about 45 minutes. Both teams get fouled multiple times and nobody can hit a free throw. Finally the Jon Hood kid gets fouled and he misses both. Crowd is aghast. The 300 team rebounds, is immediately fouled, and a kid hits one free throw. Game over.
The players go to the handshake line. The tournament director--a poor young man who figures into this story in much more tragic ways shortly--was giving out medals. Team 300 starts posing for photographs and such and hoisting their trophy. And at this point total chaos breaks loose. A player from the Richmond team attacks the ref. Then there's a dogpile. Multiple players get into it. A couple go after the tournament director.
There was another, older team who may have been from Richmond sitting off to the side; the boys on the 8th grade team seemed to know them. These older boys started to instigate things. People were trying to break up fights all over the gym. And all the while, the team from Richmond would not leave. They refused to leave the premises even though every adult in the crowd was screaming at them to go. Their useless coach did nothing except stand there. The grandmother (I heard it was a grandmother; may have been a mother) of one of the boys came out and tried to fight multiple people. My son swears she was reaching into her purse for her gun at one point.
This was a 30-minute ordeal. They finally, FINALLY got the players to leave the gym and the police were called. The poor official had a very bad black eye. All the officials and the director were rattled afterward, for good reason. And again, remember there were no adults that I could see with this group, only Useless Coach and Wild Grannie. So more than ninety minutes later my son's game started.
It was an absolutely sickening thing to watch, and it was all over a meaningless game played by 14-year-olds.
We're in Frankfort, KY. My son's 9th-grade team played their first two games and they went fine. We were beaten in one game by a 25-foot bank at the buzzer, but it was all fine. We played relatively well.
Earlier in the day we'd seen an 8th grade team from Richmond play. They had one kid who was the embodiment of Jon Hood. Walked like him, stood like him, had the same hair--it was uncanny. Kid could really play. Otherwise they were just decent for an 8th grade team.
But there was something odd about this team. One, they didn't have a coach so much as just a random guy sitting on the bench. In the second game we saw, the guy said nothing; he just sat there. Two, the players were constantly fighting amongst themselves; at one point their two best players got into it. Three, there were no parents with this group that I could see.
Anyway, we watch them play a team from Lexington. They win easily, and afterward there's a near-scuffle in the handshake line. Kids are separated. I made the comment to somebody I was sitting by that this crap always happens in AAU ball: near-fights, kids mouthing off, no real adults in the vicinity.
Okay, so flash forward to 5:30 that evening. This team from Richmond is in the championship of the 8th grade division. They're playing a team from Louisville called Louisville 300 and the game is close. It goes to overtime--nobody scores. Double overtime--nobody scores. They are forced to go to sudden death because my son's team was waiting on the sideline and at this point they'd run over about 45 minutes. Both teams get fouled multiple times and nobody can hit a free throw. Finally the Jon Hood kid gets fouled and he misses both. Crowd is aghast. The 300 team rebounds, is immediately fouled, and a kid hits one free throw. Game over.
The players go to the handshake line. The tournament director--a poor young man who figures into this story in much more tragic ways shortly--was giving out medals. Team 300 starts posing for photographs and such and hoisting their trophy. And at this point total chaos breaks loose. A player from the Richmond team attacks the ref. Then there's a dogpile. Multiple players get into it. A couple go after the tournament director.
There was another, older team who may have been from Richmond sitting off to the side; the boys on the 8th grade team seemed to know them. These older boys started to instigate things. People were trying to break up fights all over the gym. And all the while, the team from Richmond would not leave. They refused to leave the premises even though every adult in the crowd was screaming at them to go. Their useless coach did nothing except stand there. The grandmother (I heard it was a grandmother; may have been a mother) of one of the boys came out and tried to fight multiple people. My son swears she was reaching into her purse for her gun at one point.
This was a 30-minute ordeal. They finally, FINALLY got the players to leave the gym and the police were called. The poor official had a very bad black eye. All the officials and the director were rattled afterward, for good reason. And again, remember there were no adults that I could see with this group, only Useless Coach and Wild Grannie. So more than ninety minutes later my son's game started.
It was an absolutely sickening thing to watch, and it was all over a meaningless game played by 14-year-olds.
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