by Marc Skelton
EPILOGUE
Endings are likely to be abrupt, untidy, and, every once in a while, dreamlike, and so it was with the ending of the 2016–17 basketball season. When we returned to school on Monday after the championship game, we received a hero’s welcome. The mood in school was upbeat, almost giddy. Everyone, students and staff, wanted to give us their championship game analysis, their favorite play, accompanied by a hug or a smile. Nobody could agree if it was Shamar’s pass or Charles’s dunk or Walfri’s fourth-quarter performance or Ty’s floater or Cris’s decision making or Frankie’s poise that altered the game. It was clear to me it was a culmination of all their plays, augmented by all their resilience all season long. We couldn’t have dreamed of a better basketball season.
Inevitably, there was talk of next season. We heard comments like “You have a dynasty in the making,” or “Next year you guys are going to be even better.” I couldn’t entertain such thoughts. It seemed inappropriate. People were already preoccupied about the sequel when the movie, in fact, wasn’t yet finished. We had to get ready to play La Salle Academy on Friday morning.
Sometimes endings are really not endings. Some guys on the team knew there was something after the city championship. Others had no idea why we had practice after school on Monday. I had to explain, not just to the team and Gaby but to all the staff and students who congratulated us with hugs and smiles, that we still had a chance to win something else: a New York State Federation championship.
After winning the PSAL championship, the winners of each classification—AA (large school), A (medium school), and B (small school)—have a chance to compete in the New York State Federation Tournament of Champions in their respective classifications. The aim of the tournament is to bring together the other three high school organizations—the state public schools (NYSPHSAA), the Catholic schools (CHSAA), and the New York State Association of Independent Schools (NYSAIS)—to crown one state champion.
We drew La Salle, the CHSAA champs, located in the East Village of New York City. If we won, we would play the winner of the other semifinal game, either Westhill, the NYSPHSAA champion from Syracuse, or the Dwight School, the NYSAIS champion from Manhattan. In 2017, the tournament returned to Glens Falls, New York, after a six-year stint in Albany. Glens Falls is about two hundred miles north of New York City. It’s a charming town of a little more than fourteen thousand people. Nobody on the team, including me, had ever been this far upstate. Our championship quest had earned us an all-expense-paid weekend trip to the Adirondacks to extend our victory lap.
We had lost some intensity and focus in practice in the days leading up to the Federation game. I think our appetite for winning was sated after beating South Bronx Prep. It was our greatest game of the season and my coaching career. Practicing for another opponent seemed to sully the moment, like disturbing the hypnotized. The team was more excited about the road trip and the hotel than gearing up to play another game.
The tip-off against La Salle was scheduled for 10:45 a.m. Before the game I felt La Salle had a few advantages: size, experience, and depth. During warm-ups I felt those gaps widen. They were intense. The Cardinals looked like a team on their third cup of espresso. When I looked at our warm-ups, it was as if the Panthers needed to hit the snooze button one more time. Once the game started La Salle never looked back. We cut the lead to five at one point in the first half, but La Salle walked away with a 61–47 victory. And for the first time all season, we seemed beguiled. It was like dancing with the lights on way after prom had ended. The loss to La Salle didn’t disharmonize the season. The music had stopped a week ago. It was just time to go home. The party was over.
* * *
—
On the bus trip back to the Bronx, I thought about how lucky I was, not in the sense of wins or shooting percentage, but for the devoted team I had and the people who work at and attend Fannie Lou. Jeff Palladino, Fannie Lou’s principal, had organized a bus for the 10:45 a.m. game. It was full of early-bird students and staff cheering us on so the dribbles didn’t resound alone through the almost empty and frigid Glens Falls Civic Center. (The arena is home to a minor league hockey team.) We had a small cheering section in the arena that warmed my heart. I already knew that we have an incredible school community. I can’t overstate the tremendous pleasure it gave the team to see school safety agents, family, custodians, teachers, staff, alumni, and students in the stands. I am unequivocally grateful for their attendance at games, high fives in the hallways, and retweets and likes on social media.
As the bus glided down the New York State Thruway, the team slept. I remember seeing Josh’s head resting on JB’s shoulder and thinking we had spent so much time together and still they didn’t mind the personal proximity. The sun was setting and I was reminded of Hegel, who wrote that “The owl of Minerva [the Roman goddess of wisdom] spreads its wings only at the falling of dusk.” That is to say, it’s possible to understand what these young men had accomplished only once the season was over. They taught me how to love the game with all its flaws.
I love basketball because it can transport you somewhere, anywhere, anytime. The Boston Celtics versus the Detroit Pistons in 1987 or the Pinkerton Astros versus the West Blue Devils in 1993 (my last varsity game) or the Fannie Lou Panthers versus the South Bronx Prep Cougars in 2017. Basketball allows you to travel through time. Any game. Any season. Any play. It stays with you.
I now realize how much the team enjoyed the season, how they loved the competition, how they appreciated the small details of a scouting report, how the season helped them get their schoolwork done, and how they never gave up.
At the same time, I wonder how they will adjust now that the season is over. Tyree, Charles, and Kenneth will transition to the volleyball team. Mack will undergo surgery to repair his torn meniscus. Frankie was selected to become an Opportunities Network Fellow, a nonprofit organization that introduces students to the world of finance and business. Bryant, Kaleb, Cris, Josh, and JB tell me they are going to find jobs. Walfri and Shamar will attend Buffalo State in the fall. This was the last few moments we had together. We will never be as close as we were on that bus.
Now that a sense of an ending has settled in, I will finally lose the sense of precariousness I have right before a game. I’m grateful that basketball won’t interrupt my thoughts so much. I can also finally recognize that the 2017 Fannie Lou Panthers were dominant all season, especially in the playoffs. We won our first four playoff games by an average of twenty-eight points. However, a championship wasn’t inevitable. The championship game easily could have gone in another direction. The effort to find ordinary words for what we accomplished over this extraordinary season is impossible at this moment.
The bus is quiet. There are silent assurances that next season will be successful, but nobody speaks of it. At least not in front of the two seniors, Walfri and Shamar. The returning players have the sense of another phenomenal high school basketball season around the corner. Indeed, the whole team is dreaming about the magic of new beginnings.
* * *
—
Postscript: In the 2017–18 season the Panthers won not just the PSAL championship but the New York State Federation Tournament of Champions, their first state championship.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The process of writing a book about a championship season while at the same time chasing, planning, and dreaming about another championship is what Stefan Zweig in Chess Story referred to as “artificial schizophrenia”—this strange process of playing chess against yourself. We won a championship and I finished the book, but at times I wasn’t sure if we were winning, losing, or in the middle of a stalemate. What I do know is that I am grateful to those without whose cooperation it would have been impossible.
This book took twelve years to write, if one goes back to my first season coaching; three years in its present form. Over this time, I amassed infinite emotional debt
to my wife, Jessica, and our two daughters, Nina and Salome. I amassed, reluctantly, albeit necessarily, piles of drafts, notebooks, books, and articles, which added more clutter to our apartment and hours away from them.
I am eternally grateful for my best buddy, Jack Lafleur, for always talking me off the edge of the cliff after a tough loss or a dispiriting practice. Thanks to my guys, Chris Dietrich, Brent Kendall, and Kevin Scott, for intellectually supporting me during this process.
At Fannie Lou Hamer Freedom High School: thank you to the dedicated staff and to Principal Jeff Palladino.
As the years go by I appreciate Coach Carnovale more and more. I miss him very much.
A special thank-you to Nancy Mann, who read the manuscript and offered meaningful suggestions.
Debts of influence and inspiration and a whole lot of respect to the 2016–17 Fannie Lou Panthers: Gaby Acuria, Kyheem Taylor, Walfri Restitullo, Shamar Carpenter, Charles Davis, Kenneth Castro, Jaquan Mack, Bryant Gillard, Dalen Ward, Frankie Williams, Tyree Morris, Cris Reyes, Joshua Emanuel, Mohammed Fofana, Alams Beato, Kaleb Stobbs, and Jaelen Bennett.
Thanks to the PSAL and my coaching comrades-in-arms: Paul Campbell, Ben Newman, Chris Ballerini, Lawanda Greene, Matt Calabro, Nigel Thompson, Alain Latortue, Mike King, Anastasia Bitis, and Devon Irving.
I am deeply grateful to the intrepid David McCormick, who never wavered in his support and helped reshape and rethink the manuscript many times over.
This book couldn’t have found a more perfect editor and proponent than Gerry Howard. Gerry helped turn the manuscript into Pounding the Rock. Thank you to Nora Grubb, his assistant, as well. Unfortunately, I am more talented at drawing plays on a clipboard than typesetting and formatting.
A wicked awesome thank-you to my family: the Skeltons, the Currans, the Kendalls, the Escabis, and the Weinfelds.
Finally, the Bronx has been utterly transformed and renewed in the last thirty years. The efforts of a new generation with steel resilience and brilliant ideas determined to reshape the borough have borne fruit. My greatest debt is to the young men and women who allowed me to teach and coach them. I know they always gave me their best effort. This book is for them.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
MARC SKELTON is a former all-state basketball guard from Derry, New Hampshire. He graduated from Northeastern University and served two years in the Peace Corps in Moldova, and holds a master’s degree in education and political science and received a graduate certificate in Russian studies from Columbia University. He teaches history at Fannie Lou Hamer Freedom High School in the Bronx and has coached the boys’ basketball team there since 2006, winning three citywide championships and one state championship.
What’s next on
your reading list?
Discover your next
great read!
Get personalized book picks and up-to-date news about this author.
Sign up now.
