Until Saturday, could have cared less about professional athletes.
Until Saturday, had a jaded perspective and outlook regarding pompous, self-indulged jocks.
Until Saturday, felt that today’s black athletes could not measure up to the historic pioneers and ambassadors who previously “broke the color barrier” in their respective sport such as Jackie Robinson, Henry “Hank” Aaron, Muhammad Ali, Jesse Owens, Willie Mays, Joe Louis, Sugar Ray Robinson, Ed Hayes, and Curt Flood,
Until Saturday, retained unflattering sentiments regarding our modern-day sports figures who incessantly flaunted their material possessions or tragically ended up bankrupted, an addict, a criminal, or infamously sired innumerable illegitimates.
Until Saturday, considered myself a “towering oak” and, metaphorically speaking, no athlete could sway or affect my emotions.
That was until Saturday!
My daughter, Mantha, was among the thongs of giddy and starry-eyed girls from the ages of 9 to 16 who descended upon EverBank Field as invited guests of Donovin Darius.
For edification purposes, Mr. Darius was a former football player who was drafted by the Jacksonville Jaguars in 1998. He played in the position as “Safety” until his ceremonial retirement in 2013. His jersey, as a Jaguar, was the number “20.”
Post retirement, Donovin sponsors a Donovin Darius’ DREAM Life Skills Camp for Girls. CAMP “stands for the character, action, motivation, and purpose—-a model which Donovin created in order to educate, equip, and empower people to maximize their lives and achieve their utmost potential by nurturing the mind, body, and spirit.”
Commendable!
As mentioned, until Saturday, Darius or any other athlete did not have a “snow ball chance in hell” converting me into their fan base. Initially, was resenting the fact that this program was taking up so much of my precious and invaluable time. Hated that I was going to be compelled to listen to his babble for the next four excruciating hours. Imagined him endlessly strutting, parading, and aggrandizing his “celebrity” status.
Was ready to regurgitate!
Expected to over dose from the drudgery of a “holier than thou” rally. Expected to be propagandized with paraphernalia touting Donovan’s “glory days” as a football pro. Expected to see his “flunkies” (aka) entourage encasing him from the nearly 500 adoring girls, screaming teens, and their autograph-seeking chaperones.
Expected, at check-in, to be greeted by inhospitable floozies. Expected the camp’s activities to resemble an off-shoot of a three-ring circus—a disorganized, mismanaged, and an unprofessional mess.
Expected this high-profile “athlete” to descend from his suite and obligatorily mingle with the peons, cast-offs, and wanna bees. Expected a mega-watt smile flashing gold teeth and his abs laded with a thousand indistinguishable tattoos. Expected, somewhere nearby, would be his phony “trophy.”
Yep, was ready to cuss.
Mercy!
What I “expected” versus what I actually received brought this stalwart cynic to tears!
Donovin captured my heart and that’s not so easy to do! Noticed that this “eager beaver” was the epitome of the forces that shaped him as a man—courage, warmth, spirituality, humility, sportsmanship, discipline, competitiveness, charisma, and a “titanic” by compassionately serving as a male surrogate and role model to so many deserving young ladies who have dads in absentia.
Like most kids, Darius also encountered all of the tragic ingredients that usually snuff the budding potential and aspirations from black youth such as abject poverty or by associating with others who possess reckless or dead-beat attitudes. However, Donovin saw the consequences of being surrounded in a world consisting of non-achievers and disbelievers and instinctively desired so much more.
Despite his abysmal disadvantages and impoverished familial situation, Donovin “dared to dream.” Confident in his abilities, he “tackled” both his academic and athletic goals with gusto and emerged “fired up” about overcoming his obstacles by visualizing heraldic success.
Extracted from this influential hero’s inspirational message, as well as, from a slew of other heart-felt motivational speeches, informative educational seminars, and from a host of team activities was the central theme that life will bring both blessings and challenges and that achievement really does matter!
Most impressive was being a recipient of Darius’ “spiritual vitamin.” Astonished that a “Jaguar” risked tarnishing his “macho” image and reputation by openly praying in front of an audience without shame, fear, or trepidation.
Lordy!
Darius could have easily used his staggering windfall to pursue much more prestigious projects but instead he chose to invest in a populous that is rarely exposed to a positive big-league ballplayer. In addition, these kids probably were also not accustomed to being showered with a day filled with violence-free activities, fellowship, wholesome fun, camaraderie, and most importantly, agape love!
Way to go, Donovin!
Until Saturday, did not know any intimate details, gossip, sports trivia, or statistical data as it pertained to Donovin Darius because I had typecast all athletes as obnoxious jerks. However, as a result of meeting and observing this stellar young man, this writer will need to recalibrate her thought processes.
Here’s why!
Witnessed hundreds of teary-eyed parents, caregivers, sponsors, guests, and empowered girls committing to a healthier development.
Witnessed these girls finally grasping the incalculable value of achievement and learning.
Witnessed defeatism dissipating.
Witnessed children pledging to “soar like eagles” in their academics.
Witnessed passive community stakeholders and parents vowing to become active participants in these kids’ lives.
Witnessed “goodbyes” to my preconceived cynicism regarding athletes—if only momentarily!
Amazing!
Thank you, Donovin, for your immense contributions and interest in saving our daughters. Until Saturday, did not have a clue that you were soooooo incredibly awesome, generous, and kind.
Would you indulge me one more favor?
Can you do something with the whacks called “boys?”
