I had a chance to speak with former Huskies Forward Bobby Jones who recently released a documentary made about his life playing basketball overseas. The very first recruit signed by Lorenzo Romar when he took the job at Washington, Jones was picked in the NBA Draft and carved out a career playing in Italy. Although his career in Europe may not be over, the documentary is a revealing look at life outside of the NBA.
Bobby Jones Rumors
The movie which Jones released on July 24th entitled, “Basketball Jones: The Overseas Journey,” chronicles the paths of American players in Europe. Jones came up with the concept for the documentary while playing in Italy. “There’s a big void on what people know about overseas basketball in America,” Jones explained. He did a bulk of the work including coordinating interviews, editing, producing, and coming up with the music for the documentary among other things. “It wasn’t easy but definitely worth it,” Jones said of his passion project. The documentary was Jones’ second attempt at chronicling his journey as a first try was scrapped as he was unhappy with what was made. “I wanted to make sure that the message was the right message.”
23 Mar 14
Bobby Jones: I’d just returned to the States for no more than a week prior, and to Seattle just the day before; I’d driven my car from LA to Seattle. I was going to pick up my daughter for the day when my daughter’s mother decided to start an argument about the type of water guns I gave my daughter the day before to play with in her mini pool. After about 5-7 minutes, she decided to change her mind. She said that I wasn’t going to see my daughter now and to come back with court papers saying otherwise. Once I heard this, I walked back to my car (which was a few steps away) and called 911 to report an incident about a parent going back on an arranged pick up date of a child. As a father, I learned a while ago that in America, we have no leverage/power in child disputes. All I could do in this situation was call the police so they could document the incident and to also put her in contempt possibly. Side note: No parent should just be able to change his or her mind at the last second after agreeing to a pick up visitation. I would understand if the welfare of the child were in danger, but to do it because they know they will not have to face immediate punishment or simply in spite, is just morally wrong. Once she caught onto what I was doing, she went back inside the house and also called 911 as well.
When you factor in a false verbal threat along with false pushing and probably a good acting job on her part, I suppose everything else goes out the window thereafter. The police decided they were going to arrest me and take me to jail just to be on the “safe” side (their words not mine). Sitting in the back seat of that cop car is when it finally dawned on me that all of the good deeds and taking the high road meant absolutely nothing. All of the stereotypes I constantly had to prove people wrong about me, none of that helped me when it mattered the most. My future was left in the hands of three strangers, whom I had never seen in my life but were judging me like they knew me my whole life. It made me feel sick to my stomach. As I sat in the back seat handcuffed, I finally broke down and started crying like a little bitch. I was experiencing the lowest point in my life; I couldn’t help but get emotional.
There are no words to fully explain the feeling when your human rights are being taken away from you for the first time. When the only thing you have in control of your day-to-day life is to breathe and go to the restroom. During my incarceration, they took all my belongings and I had to wear an overly washed, faded, orange jumpsuit and some recycled underwear. The fact that I didn’t know how many people wore them before me left me feeling disgusted. Six of my new cellmates and me had to walk together in a straight line through many clearances. It seems like every 5 minutes we had to stop and wait until somebody on the other side of the wall unlocked a door so we could continue our stroll to an elevator.
So many scenarios ran across my mind, good and bad, but mainly bad. The first thing was hoping that this horrible news didn’t get into media. I don’t consider myself super famous, but making the papers in Seattle or back in LA and eventually in Europe online wouldn’t be so unrealistic at all. We all know that bad news travels faster than any other news. With the way my brain works, it naturally approaches an unfortunate lesson that I’ve been through and tries to puts a positive spin to sooth my nerves. How so? For example, I imagined the same exact thing happening but instead I was living in the South during the early 1930’s or anytime during slavery for that matter. I wouldn’t be in a county jail waiting for my release. I would for sure have a noose around my neck by now, swinging from a tree like some strange fruit (Billie Holiday reference). Another scenario I came up with was that if this happened on July 2nd (Tuesday) instead of on the 1st (Monday) then I would’ve had to spend not 1, not 2, but 3 nights in jail because it was 4th of July weekend. What better way than to be treated as a low life to ring in our great country’s independence. Another bullet narrowly dodged again. Having to tell my parents what happened and how this injustice resulted in me going to jail was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. There was no way that I could spin this into a positive outlook no matter how hard I tried. This was something I wanted to avoid all together.