The summer ended quicker than we expected. One minute we were in the middle of another exciting baseball season, and the next—it was time to get back to school. But this wasn’t just another school year. We were now 8th graders. Almost 14. That awkward, in-between space where you feel like you’re still a kid, but the world around you expects more.

Some of the guys, like Terreke Grover and Richard Martin, were already enrolled at East St. John High School. But since their birthdays fell in that same range, they were still a part of our age group. It didn’t really matter where we were physically—we were all still connected through our love for the game and the bond we’d built through baseball.

But this year, things were shifting.

A few of us had picked up new interests. I had started playing football with Alonzo Steele and the St. John Panthers, and eventually moved over to the St. John Rough Riders, a new team created by Coach Vernon Bailey. I’ll save my football story for another episode, but just know—I was a different kind of animal on that field.

At school, the band was a whole movement. If you grew up in St. John Parish, especially in LaPlace, the band scene at Leon Godchaux Jr. High and East St. John was legendary. I had watched my older cousins, neighbors, and friends hit those streets during parades and halftime shows. So when 7th grade gave me the chance to finally join, I jumped at it.

I played snare drum. Lendell Smith (Dusty) was on tenor drum. Romell Anthony was killing the tuba, along with Kenneth Jackson and Mandry Smith (Manny). Romell and I even talked about becoming drum majors during our 8th grade year. We had plans. We were ready to leave our mark.

And then… it all changed.

We were walking to class down that little cracked street by LGJH—just like we always did—when Romell dropped a bombshell that shifted the direction of my life.

“D, I’m leaving.”

At first, I didn’t even understand what he meant.
“Leaving? Leaving where?”
“I’m going to John Curtis,” he said.
“For what?”
“They gave me a scholarship. Baseball. They saw me at that World Series game in Kenner—when I hit that home run.”

It hit me like a ton of bricks. I was shocked, speechless… and honestly, a little bit hurt.

He followed up with:
“Do me a favor and keep an eye on my little sister. She’s in 7th grade—it’s her first year in public school.”

Just like that—he was gone. My best friend was gone. Off to a new school, a new environment, and a new chapter… all because of his talent in baseball.

That moment shook something loose in me. It wasn’t just about losing a friend—it was about realizing that opportunities existed. Real ones. Scholarships. Private schools. Coaches watching games. People noticing talent. And for the first time in my life, I started asking myself a question I never considered before:

“What if I went to a different school?”

I remembered sitting at my sister Radiena’s graduation and hearing about athletic scholarships. At the time, it didn’t mean much. But now, here was Romell—my best friend—actually living that dream. And me? I was still trying to prove myself. Still trying to make the FORD All-Stars one last time before heading to high school. Still figuring out where I fit.

I knew what would happen if I went to East St. John. A bunch of guys were already there—guys who had been with FORD. Older guys with reputations and connections. Guys people knew.

“That’s Flip Flop.”
“That’s Armond.”
“That’s Tricky Dick.”

But me?
“Oh, that’s Damon Mason. Talented. Works hard. But he got a quick temper… always crying about something.”

That reputation followed me. And I hated it. I had the heart. I had the work ethic. But somehow, I couldn’t shake how people labeled me.

So I started wondering:
Do I really want to go to East St. John and deal with that all over again?
Or do I want to go somewhere where nobody knows me—where I can earn my spot and show what I can really do, with no labels, no favoritism, no politics?

That fall, everything I had experienced on baseball fields in St. John Parish came flooding back. The wins. The losses. The long talks. The hard lessons. The pain of being overlooked. The drive to prove people wrong.

I didn’t have all the answers. But I did know this:
This was my final year at LGJH. My last season with the LaPlace A’s. And one final shot at making the FORD All-Stars.

And if I wanted it… I had to win the league championship.

Because that’s the only thing I knew that could speak louder than anyone’s opinion.

Episode 13 coming soon…
“Romell is gone. The season starts. I’m still here—and I’m all in.”