Sports in Prison
In my street life, I’ve always loved watching when my kids played volleyball, soccer, Little League baseball, lacrosse, or football, but I’m not otherwise much of a college or professional sports fan and never go to games or watch them on TV. But here in the prison, I do enjoy sharing in the excitement that these seasonal sports competitions bring to the inmates. On almost a daily basis, I get my ESPN prison sports update report. “Ah, Teach, you should’ve saw Marcus shooting hoops yesterday. He’s a real gangsta on the court!” Like my son, who regularly loves to give me a blow-by-blow of his game strategies and accomplishments, the students want to keep me informed about who’s playing on what teams and how the different sports seasons are progressing. I learn who wins the 5K and 10K track races, who’s playing on what baseball teams, who lifts what poundage on the weight pile, who’s the champion chess player, and how many baskets the winning team scored in the basketball league championship game.
It’s a delight for me to see that, like on the outside, these sporting events in prison bring a lot of joy into men’s lives.
Latin Americans are wild for soccer, so most of the Spanish-speaking inmates play on one of the prison soccer teams. Teams have names like Los Canarios, Los Pumas, and Los Americanos. I try not to pick favorites because really I want them all to be winners, but it is fun to hear how this very competitive league play unfolds throughout the season. This year during the soccer season, I’ve heard a lot about Los Pumas, which many of the Mexican students in my classes are playing on. “Los Pumas are unbeatable, Teach. You should see ’em. They are the champions for sure!” That’s why today’s game has generated so much interest around the prison, and why I, too, want to watch this season finale. I’m not allowed to go to the yard to watch the game, but have found that from one of the back classrooms up here on the Education Floor I have a clear view into the yard, so with popcorn in hand, I wait for the big game to begin.
As the first half kicks into gear, I become aware of just how much it is gladdening my own heart to be able to watch the guys play soccer from my fourth-floor spectator's perch. I know most of Los Pumas’ players from class, and I’m afraid my team loyalty to them might be a little biased, similar to what I feel when watching my own kids and their friends play sports.
From the chatter in class, I’ve learned that both Miguel and Humberto played professional soccer in Mexico before moving to the United States. From what I can see, that story must be true. Their nimble ball handling skills and the speed with which they race down the field are truly exciting to witness. With quick toe-tip kicks and neck-stretching headers, the soccer ball moves back and forth across the field between the players. Miguel is a short man, but he is very fleet footed and twists like a sidewinder around and through the oncoming players. Running alongside him is Cesar, with his long corkscrew ponytail swinging from side to side as he runs. Close behind Cesar is Armando, who told me in class earlier this afternoon that he’d be the player wearing the #1 jersey and a white headband. I watch the men as they repeatedly maneuver their way forward and back from one end of the green field to the other. It’s an exhibition of physical competency I’m watching, and I am tickled to see the sheer delight the men feel in running and kicking and passing the ball back and forth. It’s a poignant scene, too, and I can’t help but think about the true value of sports competition. I smile and slowly shake my head from how much this soccer game is touching me. It’s a beautiful tableau of joy and cooperation—a brief moment when the pleasures of play and team spirit overshadow the high cement wall that screams out its minute by minute reminders: “You’re a criminal!” “You’re trapped!” “You’re separated!” “You’re confined!” “You’re incarcerated!” For the time being, the soccer players on the prison yard are simply athletes, and I am their excited fan.
When inmates play sports, they’re like any other group of intramural competitors. They choose up teams, have inmate coaches and referees, plan strategies, practice as often as they can, and shake hands at the thrill of winning or shuffle back to their cells with slumped shoulders and drooping heads in disappointment when they lose. Many inmates participate in more than one sport in the year, and the best athletes—like Humberto and Miguel—both coach and play on teams. From what I hear and observe, participating in these athletic competitions makes the students I know happy and healthy. It promotes that much-needed physical relief for the many stresses of incarceration and helps to build a sense of community within this bully-ridden, often isolating and threatening environment.
