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Homeboyz
by Seth "Soul Man" Ferranti / June 29, 2004
Homeboyz. Roaddawgs.
Partners-in-crime. Co-defendants. Your man that got your back in the feds.
Holding you down, looking out, and showing love. Prison ain't a nice ride,
but if you're down with some homies you gonna be alright. A homeboy is
who you go to when you got drama. If the shit's gonna jump off it's necessary
to have some of your boys watching your back because a lot of dudes will
put some dirt in the game. It ain't always one-on-one or mano a mano,
and in prison you gotta be prepared for the worst.
A homeboy is a geographical
thing – same city, same state, same hood even. It's a recognition
of identity, like, "Yo, we from the same place." It's a bond,
an affiliation, a family or crew. Somebody who knows what you are about
and your history. Who knows the same areas, the same people, and grew
up in the same way. Homeboyz are for life. It's a territorial badge of
honor that can't be taken away. Pride in your state, your hood, your people.
When dudes are bidding, they search out their homeboyz on every compound
they touch down at. Because if your homies ain't gonna look out, who is?
Here at FCI Gilmer,
a medium-to-high security level federal Bureau of Prisons institution
in West Virginia, dudes are trying to represent for
their hood. On the pound and on the court. They try to go hard and hold
it down with their homeboyz. Ain't no faking it. They are bidding and
it don't matter if you're from New York, Charlotte, DC, or Baltimore.
You're still trying to represent.
They got two homeboyz
here from B-More who represent. They going hard and putting work in on
the basketball court. Displaying that Rolex quality talent. I'm talking
straight showtime. Big ballers, you heard. It can't be denied, copied,
or replicated. They are the real deal. Let me introduce you to DJ and T-Y, two of B-More's finest.
These two dudes hail
from the mean streets of Baltimore. A city famous for its culture of drugs
and murder. Hollywood has even recognized this with the HBO hit "The
Wire," which depicts the violent world of B-More's inner city drug
gangs. But for real, art imitates life and this ain't no TV show. Dudes
are doing hard time. The War on Drugs is a failure because the drug game
is still popping. The code of the streets is in full effect and the four
corner hustlers of both East and West Baltimore are doing their thing.
Whether it's nine to the dome or standing up to authority, B-More is representing.
Death before dishonor.
"B-More is a
hustler's paradise but you've got to be able to hold your own or you'll
get took off," says DJ, born Darryl Hairston, and hailing
from Lafayette projects in East Baltimore. T-Y, government name Anthony
Whitaker, backs up his homeboy. "The whole of Baltimore goes
hard," he says.
These neighborhoods
beset by poverty, rampant drug abuse, and violence spawned the infamous
and notorious drug lord Anthony Jones of Don Diva fame, who received
triple life in the feds for running a $30,000 a day East Baltimore drug
ring. He was branded as "a killing machine" by Baltimore area
U.S. Attorneys. But clearly, AJ, as he is known in the streets, has the
honor and respect of his homies.
"AJ was a good
dude, man," says DJ. "They made him out to be a monster, but
he's not." And Baltimore, made famous by Shannon Holmes's
"B-More Careful" street novel and the Anthony Jones case, is
also the same town that produced NBA players Sam
Cassell, Carmelo
Anthony, Juan
Dixon, Muggsy Bogues, Reggie "Ice"
Williams and Reggie Lewis. It is also home to the famous and
nationally ranked Dunbar high school basketball program. So like anywhere,
the good goes with the bad. Like DJ says, "the whole city is off
the hook."
Neither T-Y nor DJ
ever thought they would end up in West V balling with their homeboyz in
the feds. "Fuck no," DJ says. "Not here, never in my wildest
dreams." T-Y concurs but says, "I love playing ball with my
homeboyz down here though." And these two B-More cats can ball too.
Both youngsters – T-Y is 26 and DJ, 24 – have vicious games.
DJ is arguably the best player on the pound and T-Y is in the top five.
"My homeboy DJ,
he can do anything – when he's not crying," T-Y jokes.
When I ask DJ which
players he admires on the pound he says, "my man T-Y, of course."
So there is a mutual respect between the two and they are tight also.
Whenever you see T-Y, DJ is usually somewhere around. And both of them
love basketball. Free rec, A-league, blacktop, one-on-one, or whatever.
"B-ball is half
of my life," DJ says. "It keeps my mind off the struggle I'm
in, you know." And T-Y says, "I got 10 years for drugs and the
only thing I like about jail is basketball."
Both dudes take their
games serious. "I'm a very nice person off the court," T-Y says.
"But basketball is my life." DJ shares the same sentiments.
"I feel my passion
for the game is always stronger than the next man's. I hate to lose free
rec or games. It's about the bragging rights but you're only as good as
your last performance."
And with that phrase
DJ sums up prison basketball in a nutshell. With all the studio gangstas,
haters, and bammas that populate the feds, dudes be lunching. Like they
say, "if it ain't rough, it ain't right."
T-Y says prison ball
is about "going hard and making your man look bad." T-Y, down
a minute, has several seasons and championships under his belt. "This
is my first federal institution and my second season here at Gilmer,"
DJ says. "I know a lot of dudes don't like me but I'm respected and
that’s all that matters."
When talking about
their games T-Y says, "I'm a triple threat and every time I play
it's a championship."
"I just like
to have fun but you have to make your man look bad," DJ says. "You
know you'll always have haters and doubters but that’s what makes
me play harder. I feel like no one can check me because my first step
is so quick. I'm a spur-of-the-moment type of guy, but also a point guard
that can score or dish. Pick your poison."
Both these dudes are
a pleasure to see in action. T-Y is the bigger of the two at 6 foot even
and about 225 lbs. He is solid for real. Strong but quick and fast. A
big guard in the Vinnie "Microwave" Jones Bad Boy mold.
Dudes don't know how to check T-Y because he's too big for the guards
and to quick for the big men. He's a rough-it-off type of player, but
also has sick handle and a vicious crossover. He probably has the best
handle on the pound.
He doesn't look like
he can move like he does, but he breaks dudes ankles on the regular and
can create his shot at will. Barreling into the paint, and one. The man
is too strong. Head bobbing, ball rocking, he dribbles the ball low to
the ground, between his legs, back the other way, a reverse crossover.
Left his man on the floor. Who are these jokers trying to check him? The
crowd's screaming. Going wild for the move.
T-Y probes the defense,
getting ready to exploit any space provided and go to the rack. He pounds
the ball into the court as he dribbles-harder, harder – the ball
slams into the court then boom – he makes his move, feints left,
back right, and moves toward the hoop like a battering ram. 225 lbs. of
muscle in control. Every move defined, no wildness, pure constructed chaos.
The fall away from the baseline, the rainbow three, the no-look pass through
traffic, the runner in the lane, a pure scorer. And his defense is beast
also. He regularly leads the league in steals.
"I would like
the ball in my hands so I can make something happen," T-Y says. "And
I always think team first."
DJ's game is different
but the same. Must be something in the water down in Baltimore that teaches
the players to share the ball. DJ is slim – 5-foot-10 and 165 lbs.
"The same height and weight as TJ
Ford and Speedy
Claxton," he tells me.
DJ is a consummate
point guard. He takes charge of the game and directs his teammates to
where he wants them. Demanding the ball and running the point. He makes
it look easy. He has a sublime quality to his game like Kobe.
He is graceful and athletic. His game is based on quickness and finesse.
But he goes hard. Using his quick first step though he penetrates at will
taking over and scoring when needed.
He'll dribble right,
go between his legs, to the left, and rocket to the rack before a defender
can even shuffle his feet. He can change direction of his dribble in mid-air,
throwing the ball between his legs, as he lands and keeps going. The kid
is money at the line and describes his game as TJ Ford with a jumpshot.
"I always want
the ball when the game is on the line," DJ says. "Winning is
the most important thing. That’s why I play the game."
Like DJ, T-Y is a
winner too, but his MO is perpetrating And1 moves and clowning dudes with
raggedy-ass games. "Yes, I have that flair," T-Y says.
"Yes, I rec all
the time and everyone goes hard." But that’s prison ball and
life in the pen. T-Y and DJ love playing here but nothing compares to
East B-More, according to DJ.
While T-Y says he
hooped it up "just around the streets with other guys" in B-More,
DJ's hoop history is different.
"I'm a baller on the streets
of B-More known East and West by the city's finest ballers," DJ boasts.
And he backs up that boast with facts.
"I've played
organized ball since I was 9. My AAU team, Cecil-Kirk rec center has produced
many NBA players and Division I ballers. I played with Juan Dixon (Wizards), Kevin Braswell (Georgetown), Mike King (GW), Bootsy Thorton (St. John's) and Mark Karcher (Temple)," DJ says.
He tells me about
playing in the Slam-n-Jam tournament in L.A. in 1996 against the likes
of Kareem
Rush, Ron
Artest, Elton
Brand, Baron
Davis, Lamar
Odom and Tayshaun
Prince. This kid wasn't faking. He also played in the Sonny
Hill tournament in Philly and beat Al
Harrington’s New Jersey Road Runners team and says
he played against a young Carmelo
Anthony at the Dome in B-More – that’s like the
Rucker league. "I don't know if many guys in jail have been in those
environments," DJ says. "But all the experience was great."
DJ played for coach Pete Pompay of Dunbar fame at Edmondson high school and had legitimate
college scholarships from Virginia Commonwealth, Old Dominion and Tennessee.
When I ask him what happened, he just shrugs.
"The streets
happened, man. My hood, Lafayette projects is dog eat dog, you know. But
the NBA was always my dream growing up," he says.
His homeboy T-Y shared
that dream. "Yes, it was my dream too, but the streets took me in."
And the feds picked
up their cases, DJ says. "The feds be fucking dudes in my town,"
T-Y agrees. "We're all in here on some bull."
When we talk about
the league, both of them say their favorite player is fellow B-More native
Carmelo Anthony, their homie. These two dudes are B-More to the core.
When I ask them about streetballers or legends from B-More they mention Skipwise – "probably the best ever," according to
DJ – Mike Lloyd – "who balled at Dunbar and Syracuse
and is probably the best now" – Kevin Norris – "who
balled at Lake Clifton and Miami and got the best handle in the world"
– and Tony Brown – "who was an All-American and
got killed his senior year in high school."
They also give props
to Wink, who was on the Anthony Jones case. "He's in Allenwood
low balling," DJ says. "He got game for real."
"He can play
anywhere," T-Y says of his homie Wink. DJ also shouts out Y-Li,
who is in USP Atlanta. "He's doing life. He's the best guard on the
pound down there. He was on Anthony Jones case too."
These two cats keep
it real. On the pound and on the court. Representing B-More to its finest.
DJ and T-Y called home the stomping grounds of the infamous drug lord
Anthony Jones, who is on 24-hour lockdown at ADX Florence.
When I ask them if
they have any messages for the kids streetballing in B-More, T-Y nods
and says: "Stay in school and chase your dreams."
DJ adds: "Be
patient, prepare for the future and stay in school because that’s
what counts. And always work as hard in school as you do on the court."
That advice is spot
on from two hustlers who took their knocks in the game (of thuglife) and
are now paying the ultimate price. And in here they play the game (of
basketball) that they grew up loving and practicing in the inner city
courts of B-More. But still they realize that this life is no substitute
for being in the real world.
Hopefully the next
generation of B-More kids, their homeboyz, can learn from DJ and T-Y's
mistakes so they don't end up in the feds like them. Because if you are
in the game, the feds got a place for you. You can ball all day, but spending
decades of your life behind these fences is a sad remnant of a life that
could of, should of, and would have been.
Seth "Soul Man" Ferranti, federal prison number 18205-083, is housed at FCI Loretto. Previously he resided at FCI Fairton, FCI Fort Dix, FCI Beckley and FCI Manchester. He has been a regular contributor to HoopsHype.com since 2003
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Soul Man is the world's leading prison basketball journalist. He also writes for Don Diva, Elemental, Vice and Slam.
