When Angels Play the Warriors at San Quentin Prison

The pandemic has taken its toll on everyone, but for the men inside San Quentin prison, it has had a truly debilitating effect. Lockdowns are one thing, but for the incarcerated men already living under the worst conditions, being denied more is exceptionally cruel.

For the past couple of years, men who share a 6 x 10 cage already are familiar with lockdowns, but during the pandemic, they suffered an outbreak of COVID that could have been prevented after infected men were transferred to San Quentin from other prisons. And while many of us have pretty much discarded our masks and now travel and socialize without giving it a second thought, as I write this, the west block is still on lockdown. During the lockdown, there is no visitation and the educational and rehabilitation programs were put on hold. The prisoners were being held well, prisoner.

Those of us who volunteer could hardly complain, except that we did. We would start getting back in the swing of things going back in for a day or two and then abruptly be stopped by another lockdown. It was two steps forward, one step back, and continues to be this way. Since I sponsor the San Quentin Warriors and Kings basketball teams, I knew they were anxiously awaiting the new season of playing ball with a program where teams from the outside come inside to play the SQ Warrriors and Kings.

Every year (except during lockdown) the Golden State Warriors bring in a team comprised of coaches and people in management. Even some players from the team show up (Jonathan Kuminga among others) and employees in management.

Today, when I enter the prison parking lot it's almost half full., something I haven't seen in months. I anticipate the excitement as I go through the iron gates and see men gathered in the yard. It also happens to be mental wellness day so there is a stage with some speakers and musicians. The mood is happy as fall flirts with us on this pitch-perfect day. Brian, manager, past coach, player an event planner inside readies us, and the games begin.

At the announcement table sits Aaron “Showtime” Taylor who was let out 23 months ago after 26 years inside where he was their play-by-play announcer and has gone on to announce professionally. He’s a bit of a celebrity and wears it well with his fiancée who has gained certain stardom on his Facebook and TikTok videos. He gives me a big hug and I’m startled because hugging someone in the yard feels so strange juxtaposed to the hands-off prison policy.

Then I spot Rafael who was recently paroled. He looks great and I know it’s difficult for him to be surrounded by his old teammates. Raf was in the movie Q-Ball which profiled the San Quentin Warriors and highlighted his journey. We talk briefly about how busy he is working three jobs and the bittersweetness of being outside and coming back to prison.

The game starts and cheering begins. I notice after several plays, that the crowd seems to be applauding the Golden State Warriors more than their own team. The Dubs definitely have the height advantage with a player named Hilton towering over everyone as a much shorter “JB” scoots around him with amazing speed. And you could hardly miss big Jerry making the points. I wonder if the Golden State Warriors coaches are taking notice.

Then I hear the music from the stage adjacent to the court. Most of the activity is at the game, but there’s a small audience gathered to listen to different musicians play. The men play on a paved court, and I watch them tumble over each other and react with sneers at certain calls by the referees (who are also incarcerated men).

Then mixed with the whoops and awwww's, I hear, “just give me some reason, that I can hang on to…” and my mind snaps to a different reality. It feels conflicting, the sweating men playing hard and fast, sweating and grunting while the song “Angels from Montgomery” pierces through the airwaves.

The incarcerated man sitting on the bench next to me asks to borrow a pen so he can get Za Za Pachulia’s autograph. I have no idea who this is or how to spell his name, but his height assures me he’s with the Warriors. I say I don’t think I can loan out a pen because of yard rules and now feel stupid about denying him. But I learned my lesson at another event that one must follow the letter of the law inside the walls.

If dreams were thunder and lightning was desire this old house would have burnt down a long time ago.

I watch the men play and the men watching them and note how during this time they can escape into another world; and I also get caught in the moment. I wonder about all the basketball games I’ve attended, as well as all the musical events. In some ways, they are very similar. Cheering crowds adulating people that have been turned into heroes; playing together for a common goal; entertaining but more so, to lose themselves in their passions.

Just give me one thing that I can hold on to believe in this living is just a hard way to go.

The day is warming up. I strike up a conversation with an incarcerated man who just transferred to San Quentin and is finding it hard to believe that he’s able to sit so close to me. That he’s watching a game with so many others. I tell him I have come to understand that San Quentin is unique, and we talk about how rehabilitating prisoners is much more effective than severe punishment. He agrees, “When we get out, would you rather have me be a man who understands his crime and wants to make good or an angry bitter person who wants to get even.” He said he didn’t have any role models or people that cared about him growing up. His experience today shows him what it’s like. "There are good people who really do care," he says wistfully.

The San Quentin Warriors lose to the Golden State, and I say goodbye and head out. On the stage, the last singer of the day is bellowing out one of my all-time favorite songs, “Stand by Me.”

Indeed.