Can't make sense of violence

I can't wrap my head around what happened today. As Randy Edsall sometimes says, life isn't fair.

What happened to Jazz is cruel.

I can't accept this.

Jazz is set to be a father soon. I can appreciate that. I have a 3 year old and in the next two weeks will have a son come into this world. I can't think of my son not having a father. It's perhaps the saddest part of the story we have heard.

Howard has tried his entire life to get out of Miami and Little Hati. If you ever talked to Jazz, the only time he would become shy and reserved is when you would mention his home. You never saw a story about it, because Jazz didn't like talking about it. It's a part of his life he wanted to put behind him. That's why he came to Storrs. This was the farthest place from Miami in geography, spirit and culture that you could get. Here, Jazz experienced a part of the world he never knew. That's what college is for. He was expanding his horizons. He knew his future wasn't destined to be lying in some gutter in Miami. He was making the most of life. 

It's amazing the things you remember. There are a couple of things about Jazz that stick out to me.  I never shared this and I hope I am not talking out of school here.

During the International Bowl in Toronto, Jesse Jackson had a speech about urban crime and opportunity and of course half the audience started to tune him out. The speech was about drugs and crime in the inner city. Jackson was trying to implore these young football players to go back into their communities and make a difference.

I happened to look at Jazz as I was sitting only a table away. Jazz's eyes were transfixed on Jackson. He was paying attention to every word Jackson said. The Reverend wasn't in church but he was preaching, and Jazz was listening.

Jackson asked if anyone knew someone who was using drugs. Jazz's hand went up. Then Jackson asked if they knew if anyone was in jail because of drugs, Jazz's hand went up. Then Jackson asked if he knew anyone killed over drugs. Jazz's hand goes up.

I remarked to Coach Randy Edsall about it after and we had a brief conversation about the lives of some of these players. Their life conditions are so extreme it's hard to comprehend. Edsall asked if I was surprised by the hands. I must say I was. I am by no means some suburban preppy. Heck I grew up in New Britain which isn't necessarily a dangerous place but it isn't some sheltered utopia  either.   I have a grasp of the real world realities.What shocked me was putting faces with that reality.

What people don't understand is for a player like Jasper Howard, Storrs isn't only a school for them. It's a paradise. Up here at UConn they can be themselves. They can learn in a relaxed environment, meet new people, and still be kids. Jasper didn't have a care here.  Places like Storrs allow you to be who you want to be. It's all about hope, opportunity, freedom and expression.

An athlete in Storrs? The possibilities are limitless. Jazz was going to be a success doing whatever he wanted.

The fact it's this place is where Japser Howard was murdered that makes this even more tragic. How could this place of refuge and opportunity spawn this kind of violence?

This was Jasper Howard's time place to come live, not die.

I can't express my sadness in words.