More Than Just A Game part 2

by Ryan Vaillancourt
Published: Friday, October 16, 2009 4:30 PM PDT
DOWNTOWN LOS ANGELES - Second of a Three-Part Series. Read Part I here.

They stand hand-in-hand, heads bowed, eyes closed, in a circle at the center of the mint-green basketball court in Gladys Park. They are here to play ball. But first, a prayer.

“Dear Lord, thank you for this day, for this game,” says Sunshine, a 24-year-old cherry blonde and a recovering crack addict. She wears jeans, and a thin purple dress drapes over her swollen belly. She’s seven months pregnant.

“Thank you, Lord, for bringing us together,” she continues, her voice quieting to a whisper. “We need you.”

As Sunshine speaks, life in this normally busy park in the heart of Skid Row is suspended. The old men and women playing dominoes pause to respect the ritual. A stereo pounding rap music dies. Even a few children ambling around seem to recognize something serious is happening, and they stop too.

The prayer circle is made up of about 35 people, mostly men. Among them is Sunshine’s man, who goes by the name of Quik. Their almost 2-year-old son, Boogie, unaware of the little brother on the way, waddles around the court. He stops at Quik’s feet and tugs impatiently at his sagging mesh shorts. Boogie doesn’t know that Quik is not his biological father. Nor do many of Quik’s friends on the court. It doesn’t matter. Quik has raised him as a son. When Boogie looks up at Quik, he smiles and says “Papa.”

Read the full article here.