I hate to mention family under the topic "Villains", but Nannie Jo is gone now and my stepdad, Darrell, at least deserves this story told. I did not learn it from Darrell. Nannie Jo used to tell it when she was bragging on Darrell. Darrell never added anything to the story.
Nannie Jo had six or seven children. I was never sure because she did not talk about her other children. Darrell was her baby and the others were either grown and gone or in foster care by the time Darrell came along. Nannie Jo raised Darrell like a pit bull and, like most pit bulls, maybe he would have been sweet if he was not raised to go on attack for sometimes no reason at all.
Nannie Jo got her act somewhat together after Darrell was born. Darrell's dad was in prison for a long time which was good for two reasons. One, another bad influence spent little time with Darrell, and two, the courts forced him to send child support to Nannie Jo. Not much, but it was a little to supplement the income of a single mom who decided to go to work for the first time in her life. Nannie Jo worked at the Citgo during the day while Darrell was at school. Nannie Jo started thinking she was respectable.
Nannie Jo, who always loved a man around, discovered they were not as easy to attract as they once were. She found a new guy to distract her, and it was Darrell.
When Darrell was six years old, he wanted to play basketball like his friends. Nannie Jo signed him up at the local Y. Nannie Jo was an all-state basketball player in her day before she discovered boys in cars and dropped out of school. Darrell inherited all her skills and then some. Nannie Jo loved going to his games and yelling, "That's my boy."
Darrell loved this testosterone-filled world where coaches became his father figure. What started on a rec basketball court, soon became year round sports - baseball and basketball and soccer. Travel teams were calling from two counties over because Darrell was just that good.
Only parents who have ever been caught up in basketball or travel baseball or travel youth sports of any kind know how obsessive, compulsive, and expensive the whole travel ball experience can become. Same goes for kids who dance, or go to sports clinics or camps, or take violin lessons. It can be fun doing these activities with your child, but what it turns into is living vicariously through your child. It becomes more important to the parent than the child. Parents fight battles left over from their own childhood. Battles they didn't win.
Nannie Jo was one of those moms who, if not for the fact your child sat out if you were thrown out of the gym, would have been thrown out of every game. In fact, she was thrown out several times, including once when Darrell was not even playing in the game. It was during a game where six year old girls were playing. Jo was so loud and rude, she was asked to leave the gym. When the ref asked which player was hers so he could set them out, she told him that she not only didn't have a kid on the team she was screaming about, she didn't even know them.
Nannie Jo yelled at refs, she yelled at parents of the opposing side, and she yelled at players on both sides. She was an embarrassment to her own team's parents, but she thought they loved her. She just could not control her temper or her mouth, especially if she thought something was unfair to her boy. If you have ever been to a youth basketball tournament, you know most things are not fair in the eyes of a mom.
After several years of traveling ball, Nannie Jo learned just how far she could take it, and most of the other parents knew when to get her out of the gym. Unfortunately, the last game Darrell would ever play was so tight and so thrilling and fast-paced that the parent dads, who could usually calm Jo down, were acting like fools themselves. Both parent sections were out of control.
At this particular tournament, a young mom volunteer who was trying to watch her two small children and take up gate money found out she was also in charge of security when an agitated referee came over to her table and said, "You are supposed to make sure I am safe. I will need an escort after this game to my car in the parking lot."
The five foot tall mother looked up at the six-four giant of a man and replied, "Ok". She called her husband working at another gym. He was running the clock and could not come. She was not big enough to escort a grown man out of the gym, especially with two small children in tow. She didn't know if it was the right thing to do or not, but she called the police. One minute later, all hell broke loose, and thank goodness the mom volunteer had already called the police.
"Say one more word, lady and you out are out of here," said the tall ref to Nannie Jo.
"Word," said Nannie Jo.
He shook his head. The other dads realized it was time to take Jo out for a smoke before the star player had to leave with her. As she worked her way slowly down the bleachers, Nannie Jo yelled, "Well if someone gets hurt, it is on you, you sorry sack of dog crap." She added, "And, it better not be my boy who gets hurt."
As she turned to walk out the door, the other team's center threw an elbow and hit Darrell square in the eye, and he collapsed to the floor screaming in agony.
Nannie Jo let out a hyena scream and ran onto the court with all the ferociousness of a mama hyena. By now, she was screaming all the obscenities she had held back the entire game.
Before she could ascertain if her boy was going to live, Jo poked the tall ref for good measure and lit into him. "You stupid, blind, cock sucking, mother-fucker, I am gonna own your ref license. I am suing you, Asshole."
To which the referee responded, "Don't call me a cock sucker, you loud mouth bitch."
"Are you gonna let this piece of dog shit talk to a lady like this?" Nannie Jo asked the dads.
They were.
"What kind of men are you?" asked Jo to the dads now standing on the court with her. The dads stood scratching their heads and looking at their shoes.
"Darrell?" she asked.
Darrell knew he had been called up. This was his mom, and he did have to go home with her after the game. His manhood was questioned before in the home he shared with his mother. One choice, even when you are only 13, can change your life forever and set you on the wrong path. Darrell answered the call.
"You are no lady," said the ref, which actually came out , "You are no la-", because where the second half of lady came next was where Darrell, with his left hand holding an ice bag over his eye, punched the ref in the mouth with a right hook.
The ref did not fall down and break his nose then. That came when Darrell dropped the ice bag and followed the right hook with a left to the snout.
"That's my boy, " yelled Jo.
The police on call arrived and intervened and carried Nannie Jo and Darrell off the court kicking and screaming.
Darrell and his mom were banned for life from the league. Darrell got the reputation of being a player who was not worth the trouble, no matter how good he was. Darrell never played another day of organized ball.
For the rest of his life, the only coach in Darrell's life was Nannie Jo. She did not coach Darrell to play nice.
Author's Insights: If you've ever been involved with travel ball, then you know, you just know, how the complete spirit of this part of the story is based on fact.
And for the record, at least twice, once as a school administrator and once as a mom volunteer with two small girls in tow, I was told by two different grown men referees that they needed my protection. And while I'm sure they were told in ref school to seek help if needed, they were also probably told to call a fair game and make sure no kid gets hurt. (Sorry refs, but I was at both games, and I call it like I see it).