Very moving story. D willed us to win yesterday. Who knows going forward - destiny???
PHILADELPHIA — There was a time when Demetrius Jackson, Notre Dame’s star point guard, played basketball just to forget his sadness.
He was barely a teenager back then, a son in a family that had many challenges and lived on the west side of South Bend, Ind., across town but worlds away from Notre Dame and its golden dome and Touchdown Jesus, and the standards it set for big-time college sports.
He would take his worn basketball and head to a park and shoot and dribble, and dribble and shoot, and play pickup games, where he sometimes ran his mouth too much because he just wanted to win, he admits now, maybe too much.
But it wasn’t that Jackson was bound to play for the Irish just because he was in their backyard and, thus, simple to find. No, he needed help to get there. Just as he needed help to get to the point in the round-of-16 matchup against Wisconsin on Friday, when he sparked the Irish and won it for them in the final moments.
In the first half, Jackson shot 1-for-9 and scored 2 points. In the game’s final 19 seconds, he had two layups, two steals and two free throws that swooshed through the net to put Notre Dame, a No. 6 seed, into a regional final for the second year in a row.
In the 61-56 come-from-behind victory, Jackson finished with 16 points. The Irish will play No. 1 seed North Carolina here on Sunday night for a chance to advance to the Final Four.
“Didn’t you see him, screaming and yelling and veins popping out of his arms?” Notre Dame forward Bonzie Colson asked. “He pushed us to win.”
After the buzzer, Jackson locked eyes with a group of people in the stands who made a decision long ago that changed his path in life. He smiled and gave them a joyous fist pump. They waved and beamed.
Without them, Jackson, a junior, might not be at Notre Dame. Or might never have reached this level of basketball to begin with.
When you think about it, aren’t there people like that in the lives of every player in this N.C.A.A. tournament? The ones who you might not know, but who helped make all of this madness possible?
You should at least know the ones who helped Jackson.
They are a family called the Whitfields, who live in Mishawaka, next to South Bend. It was hard to miss them on Friday. All seven of them — two parents and five children, clad in Notre Dame gear — sat in a row near the court and whooped and hollered for Jackson with such passion that you’d have thought he was a member of their family.
Because, as it turns out, he is a member of their family. Just not a conventional one.
When Jackson was 12, he couldn’t live with his mother anymore. He doesn’t want to talk about the details. To simplify: His father had a rap sheet that included jail time. His mother was having trouble coping. It all led to Jackson’s heading to a foster home for what he thought would be a brief time.
It wasn’t.
He was in his second foster home when, in seventh grade, he met Michael Whitfield, one of the Whitfield clan, who was his age.
The two played on the same A.A.U. team and became best friends. Michael called him D, a nickname the rest of the Whitfields eventually used.
Hey D, come over to my house, Michael would say. Hey D, come with us to practice, David Whitfield, the father, would say. Hey D, stay for dinner, then sleep over, all the Whitfields would chime, again and again.
“He would miss a lot of basketball because he had no way to get places, nobody to drive him places,” Michael Whitfield said. “He lived in a very, very different universe. So we stepped in to give him a hand.”
For Jackson, the Whitfields were his oasis. He was quiet and reserved — always that kid who used basketball to express his emotions — and was living in nearby Elkhart, Ind., with a family that hosted several foster children. But that foster family was nothing like the Whitfields, he said.
The Whitfields? They were exactly what he imagined an ideal family to be.
David, a financial adviser, and Beth, a kindergarten teacher at a Catholic school, were high school sweethearts and were kind and upbeat. With so many little Whitfields — three boys and two girls — their house was organized chaos. Everyone had to work together. Despite the inevitable sibling spats, everyone had everyone else’s back.
Jackson dove in and loved it. Deep down, he also wanted to be a part of it. Not just for a weekend, though. For good.
So one day, just a few months after Jackson met the Whitfields, Michael did what Demetrius had hoped for: He asked his parents if Demetrius could live with them.
“What do you say if your kid asks you to help out someone else?” Beth Whitfield said. “Of course, you had to say yes. And we wanted to say yes. What was another kid anyway? We already had five.”
The Whitfields went through more than 30 hours of training to qualify as foster parents before Jackson was allowed to move in, officially.
He joined the three boys in their bedroom above the garage, taking the open spot in one of the bunk beds. He was worked into the schedule of when the children showered because there were only two bathrooms. Later, he would join the rotation to share the family cars with his new brothers and sisters.
Looking back, the Whitfields said the transition was painless. Jackson already was a good student and was what Michael called “a neat freak.”
“He suddenly had all of this structure and stability, and I have no doubt that’s what helped him gain confidence in himself,” David Whitfield said. “And look where that confidence has brought him. He’s his team’s leader.”
Jackson attended Marian High School, a Catholic school, with the Whitfield children, and said he blossomed as a player only in his sophomore year. When choosing a college, he selected Notre Dame so his family — his foster one and his biological one — could watch him play.
He often texts David Whitfield after victories, leaving emotional messages that prompt Whitfield to choke up.
“There are so many thank yous and I love yous that it’s overwhelming,” David Whitfield said. “One thing about D that’s never changed is that he appreciates everything he has. Every little thing.”
Making it to the round of 8 is just one of those things. Having a loving support system is another.
“What the Whitfields did for me, I can’t even describe it,” Jackson said. “I’m just so blessed.”
http://www.nytimes.com/2016/03/27/s...column-region®ion=top-news&WT.nav=top-news
PHILADELPHIA — There was a time when Demetrius Jackson, Notre Dame’s star point guard, played basketball just to forget his sadness.
He was barely a teenager back then, a son in a family that had many challenges and lived on the west side of South Bend, Ind., across town but worlds away from Notre Dame and its golden dome and Touchdown Jesus, and the standards it set for big-time college sports.
He would take his worn basketball and head to a park and shoot and dribble, and dribble and shoot, and play pickup games, where he sometimes ran his mouth too much because he just wanted to win, he admits now, maybe too much.
But it wasn’t that Jackson was bound to play for the Irish just because he was in their backyard and, thus, simple to find. No, he needed help to get there. Just as he needed help to get to the point in the round-of-16 matchup against Wisconsin on Friday, when he sparked the Irish and won it for them in the final moments.
In the first half, Jackson shot 1-for-9 and scored 2 points. In the game’s final 19 seconds, he had two layups, two steals and two free throws that swooshed through the net to put Notre Dame, a No. 6 seed, into a regional final for the second year in a row.
In the 61-56 come-from-behind victory, Jackson finished with 16 points. The Irish will play No. 1 seed North Carolina here on Sunday night for a chance to advance to the Final Four.
“Didn’t you see him, screaming and yelling and veins popping out of his arms?” Notre Dame forward Bonzie Colson asked. “He pushed us to win.”
After the buzzer, Jackson locked eyes with a group of people in the stands who made a decision long ago that changed his path in life. He smiled and gave them a joyous fist pump. They waved and beamed.
Without them, Jackson, a junior, might not be at Notre Dame. Or might never have reached this level of basketball to begin with.
When you think about it, aren’t there people like that in the lives of every player in this N.C.A.A. tournament? The ones who you might not know, but who helped make all of this madness possible?
You should at least know the ones who helped Jackson.
They are a family called the Whitfields, who live in Mishawaka, next to South Bend. It was hard to miss them on Friday. All seven of them — two parents and five children, clad in Notre Dame gear — sat in a row near the court and whooped and hollered for Jackson with such passion that you’d have thought he was a member of their family.
Because, as it turns out, he is a member of their family. Just not a conventional one.
When Jackson was 12, he couldn’t live with his mother anymore. He doesn’t want to talk about the details. To simplify: His father had a rap sheet that included jail time. His mother was having trouble coping. It all led to Jackson’s heading to a foster home for what he thought would be a brief time.
It wasn’t.
He was in his second foster home when, in seventh grade, he met Michael Whitfield, one of the Whitfield clan, who was his age.
The two played on the same A.A.U. team and became best friends. Michael called him D, a nickname the rest of the Whitfields eventually used.
Hey D, come over to my house, Michael would say. Hey D, come with us to practice, David Whitfield, the father, would say. Hey D, stay for dinner, then sleep over, all the Whitfields would chime, again and again.
“He would miss a lot of basketball because he had no way to get places, nobody to drive him places,” Michael Whitfield said. “He lived in a very, very different universe. So we stepped in to give him a hand.”
For Jackson, the Whitfields were his oasis. He was quiet and reserved — always that kid who used basketball to express his emotions — and was living in nearby Elkhart, Ind., with a family that hosted several foster children. But that foster family was nothing like the Whitfields, he said.
The Whitfields? They were exactly what he imagined an ideal family to be.
David, a financial adviser, and Beth, a kindergarten teacher at a Catholic school, were high school sweethearts and were kind and upbeat. With so many little Whitfields — three boys and two girls — their house was organized chaos. Everyone had to work together. Despite the inevitable sibling spats, everyone had everyone else’s back.
Jackson dove in and loved it. Deep down, he also wanted to be a part of it. Not just for a weekend, though. For good.
So one day, just a few months after Jackson met the Whitfields, Michael did what Demetrius had hoped for: He asked his parents if Demetrius could live with them.
“What do you say if your kid asks you to help out someone else?” Beth Whitfield said. “Of course, you had to say yes. And we wanted to say yes. What was another kid anyway? We already had five.”
The Whitfields went through more than 30 hours of training to qualify as foster parents before Jackson was allowed to move in, officially.
He joined the three boys in their bedroom above the garage, taking the open spot in one of the bunk beds. He was worked into the schedule of when the children showered because there were only two bathrooms. Later, he would join the rotation to share the family cars with his new brothers and sisters.
Looking back, the Whitfields said the transition was painless. Jackson already was a good student and was what Michael called “a neat freak.”
“He suddenly had all of this structure and stability, and I have no doubt that’s what helped him gain confidence in himself,” David Whitfield said. “And look where that confidence has brought him. He’s his team’s leader.”
Jackson attended Marian High School, a Catholic school, with the Whitfield children, and said he blossomed as a player only in his sophomore year. When choosing a college, he selected Notre Dame so his family — his foster one and his biological one — could watch him play.
He often texts David Whitfield after victories, leaving emotional messages that prompt Whitfield to choke up.
“There are so many thank yous and I love yous that it’s overwhelming,” David Whitfield said. “One thing about D that’s never changed is that he appreciates everything he has. Every little thing.”
Making it to the round of 8 is just one of those things. Having a loving support system is another.
“What the Whitfields did for me, I can’t even describe it,” Jackson said. “I’m just so blessed.”
http://www.nytimes.com/2016/03/27/s...column-region®ion=top-news&WT.nav=top-news
