Racism. Whatcha Talking about Willis?

The 1960's:

My Dad attended Mississippi State University back in the 1950"s and he did the ROTC thing and graduated as a second lieutenant, and off to military duty he went.  The Army only knew one color, even back then, GREEN.  He was a Captain in the Army when they decided that he needed to spend his next tour of duty in Korea.  He made the decision to put family before career and retired, rather than deal with the separation. 

We moved back to Mississippi and settled in Belzoni.  My Dad went into the farming business with his Dad.  My first year of schooling there was in the fourth grade.  Upon entering the fifth grade, the world, as we knew it, was about to change forever.

The first couple of days fifth grade went by uneventful.  There were two classes for my age group, and we were settling in and getting accustomed to our surroundings, and new classmates.  There was a lot of commotion in the halls, and our curiosity was getting the best of us.  Turns out, this was the day that Belzoni High School and Elementary was being integrated!  As best I can recollect, only a handful of black students were being "relocated" to the white school.  One of these students was named Cornelius Thomas, a fifth grader, and he was coming to my classroom, and he was assigned the desk in front of me.

Cornelius took his seat and class time got to normal.  Wasn't long before the recess bell rang.  Playtime!  Out the door and to the empty lot we went, with Cornelius in tow.  Yard ball football was our game and Cornelius fit right in.  The end of recess came way too quickly, and back to class we went.  Like me, I think all of us went home that afternoon and told our parents about our new fifth grade classmate, Cornelius.

School the next day, was like any other day, until the recess bell rang.  Off to the empty lot we all went for some more yard ball!  This time, things were different.  Cornelius was no longer the center of attention.  It was as if he had leprosy.  He wasn't invited to play yard ball.  No one was within 15 feet of him.  I approached him to see what's up?  Then I heard a phrase that has been burned into my soul ever since.  Somebody yelled out "Nigger lover"!  Me being an "army brat", had no clue what that meant.  Recess ended, back to class we went, then home.  At the dinner table, I asked my parents what that phrase meant.  Oh boy, welcome to racism.

Fast Forward to 2006-2007:

I was an official sports parent.  Spent my time in the rec league baseball and soccer, doing my time as a  Dad, assistant coach and eventual head coach.  Learned more about parents, people, and human nature during this time than any other in my life time.

My youngest son, Morgan, tagged along as a tot to all the games, and he too enjoyed rec sports, as did my oldest.  Morgan developed a deep fondness for soccer.  He was fortunate enough to be couched by some guys that knew the game of soccer.

Morgan "tried out" for the club soccer team, Mississippi United, later to become Chicago Fire Juniors.   The Club decided to field four teams, two from Rankin County and two from Madison County. He made the cut, but was put on the "B" team.  Not enough players, for a full team, but hey, "no problem".  Yours truly, got railroaded into being the team manager. My first responsibility was to go and recruit three more players so we would have a full team and two subs.  Mission accomplished. The coach was a black man from Trinadad, Carlos McGregor, all the players are white.

 Carlos had played on the Belhaven College team that was ranked nationally.  He had a full time job, but soccer was his passion.  Carlos was assigned to coach both Rankin County teams.  That man knew soccer, but more importantly, he knew how to get the best out of those boys. 

Season one ended, and Morgan loved the game so much, that he and a friend went to the summer soccer camp at UAB.  Soccer tryouts for season two were here before we knew it.  This year, the Club decided to go with three teams, one Rankin County, one Madison County, and one "B" team consisting of a collection of kids from both counties.  Morgan made the "B" team.    End of season, and off to the UAB soccer camp.

As you can guess by now, as the kids get older, the pool of players continually shrinks.  Kids don't like the hard work it takes, or just lose interest.  Season three arrives, and the Club decides to field one team.  Morgan did not make the cut.  The Club made a decision to field a "B" team consisting of kids of two age groups.  Morgan was picked and he would be playing playing in the older age group.

One of Morgan's friends was in the same boat, each without a paddle. The friend, Matthew, and his Dad went looking for other options.  The Matthew tried out, and made the cut with the CJSO team.  Central Jackson Soccer Organization.  CJSO was an inner city "all black" league.  The team was still a player short on sub's.  Morgan was invited to come "kick around".  They liked him, and he liked them, having played against them the previous two years.

The fall season was full of disappointments.  The team was playing like individuals instead of as a team, and Morgan and Matthew got little playing time, and they were the only two subs.  I reminded him that he had to pay his dues and earn the time on the field.  The team made a trip to Dallas after Thanksgiving, and were given some soccer lessons by some very good teams.  I don't think the team even scored a goal. During the holiday break, the coach was assigned to a younger age group.  Enter the new coach, also the Director of Coaching, Carlos McGregor.  It did not take long for Carlos to get to work.

Practices under Carlos were brutal.  Some days he would tell the boys to not even bring a ball to practice.  With so few boys, it was all about conditioning. Under Carlos' leadership, the boys began playing as a team.  Each tournament they entered, they got better and better. 

The team entered a tournament in Louisiana.  The tournament started out like any other, first day, play two games on Saturday, then finish up on Sunday.  The second game was like no other game that they had ever played.  By the end, CJSO had defeated a team from Louisiana by a score of 10-0.  This was most unusual, as Carlos never allows the score it be run up like that.  After the game, I asked Morgan what was going on?  He said that the Louisiana team, had called both he and Matthew ugly names.  One word that was used was "wigger".  The team approached Carlos and asked for permission to teach the other team a lesson.  A bunch of black kids wanted to take up for their white brothers.  Matthew and Morgan had become the crème filling in this team of Oreos.  I have never been so proud!

End of the season,  at the President's cup, team had made it to the finals, up against the Mississippi United team.  It was a hard fought game, coming down to the last minute all tied.  There was a scramble in front of the other goal, and bam! Matthew had just scored the winning goal against their former team.  That victory was sweet!

The next season, because of the prior year victory and being the number one and two teams, the CJSO team and the Mississippi United teams reached elite status, and would play other teams from surrounding states that had also reached "elite" status.  Because of their success, CJSO was able to pick up several more players that decided that Mississippi United was not for them.  With Carlos as head coach, they boys were ready.  As best as I can recall, this CJSO team won every tournament they entered.  During the President's Cup, CJSO was again in the finals.  Game was not even close, and Morgan scored the last goal, as time expired.  CJSO was once again victorious!  Off to Regionals!

Morgan, retired from club soccer after Regionals concluded.  We were ready for another year.  He looked at us and said, "Last year, I played for you, I'm ready for me."  He worked his butt off at every practice and played his heart out at every game for us!  Broke my heart.  Still brings me to tears.

During his freshman year at Mississippi State, while majoring in electrical engineering, Morgan had a black roommate.  No biggie.  This year, Morgan, because he will be a co-op student, he will be living in a condo we purchased.  We told him that he would have to have a roommate to help cover the cost.
Morgan picked a fellow electrical engineering student, a black kid named Manterio.  He helped us move Morgan's things in back in May.  The spousal unit fell in love with Manterio and his acqua blue eyes.  I asked Morgan about his eyes, not knowing if he was from a mixed marriage or what.  His answer, "contacts"!  I have never laughed so hard!

Since the 1960's, life (mine, anyway) has kinda come full circle, from one generation to the next.
So,   Racism.  Whatcha Talking about Willis?