We live by codes and goals. We live by our desired achievements and our moral compasses.
And in our moments of conflict and uncertainty, there are men and women who provide us with wisdom couched in a simple statement.
I give you three examples.
My first example was from John Strickland, the basketball player and star in the Harlem Rucker League, and who later played for the Albany Patroons and Halifax Rainmen. He was a basketball savant who played the game with all the fun he could muster.
And one of his most enduring mantras was, “Finish Your Breakfast.” What did that mean? Simple. To “Finish Your Breakfast” is to work on your fundamentals – your breakfast – before going for the big dunks and thunder jams. You can’t score 40 points in a game if you don’t practice your free throws and your conditioning. It was a phrase that was both simple and complex.
Another phrase came from my high school math teacher, Ahmed Naqi. Amid all the wisdom and education he drilled into our young, impressionable minds, he also mentioned what may have been an Islamic phrase, “Gingo La Tresh.” We really never knew what it meant at the time – just thought it was something he said as a joke – but in time, I learned that it wasn’t so much the phrase “Gingo La Tresh” as it was the effort to learn, to search, to study, to never be satisfied that the answer you’ve found is the only answer. It’s almost a Zen koan, similar to the sound of one hand clapping.
And that brings me to this weekend.
Ed Dyson played for the Albany Patroons for two seasons, and he and I are Facebook friends. On Saturday morning, he posted a message about how he couldn’t believe that someone had passed away, and he was heartbroken. I messaged him, and that’s when he told me about Moe.
Moe Woods was one of the building workers at the Washington Avenue Armory. He was at every Patroons game; he was the first to arrive and the last to leave. He was a father figure to every player and staff member on the team, and his voice could be heard through every game, now matter how many people were in the Armory stands.
And among all his encouragements during the game, there was this simple command.
“Get your numbers.”
Get your numbers. Earn your minutes. Pull down those rebounds. Dish those dimes. Play like a team of champions, and not like ten guys who showed up at the building for a couple of hours.
And he was there in 2019 when the Patroons claimed their TBL championship, defeating the hated Yakima Sun Kings at the Armory. And he was there when the Patroons returned to the TBL playoffs in 2022 … and in 2023 … and in 2024 …
And now he can watch the team from the best seat in the arena. A skybox, if you will.
Rest in glory, Moe Woods. You are missed by all of us.
And we will always strive to get our numbers.
Chuck The Writer 