another inspirational chapter of hoosier hysteria
If you live in Indiana, basketball is in your DNA. I think that state law requires all children to be able to hit a jump shot by the age of 12. Bobby Plump (inspiration for the movie Hoosiers), Hallie Bryant, Oscar Robertson, Billy Keller, Rick Mount (made the cover of Sports Illustrated in high school), George McGinnis, Scott Skiles, Damon Bailey, Mike Conley and Greg Oden are just a few of the hoops legends that have been produced here. In 49 states it's called basketball, but here in Indiana, it's Hoosier Hysteria and it's pretty special. Anyone in Indiana who follows high school hoops knows the twisted saga of Kojak Fuller. He's only 5 ft. 7, but he's one of the 3 best players under 6 ft. I have ever seen (along with Billy Keller and Ray McCallum). Had he been 5 inches taller he would have gone straight to the NBA from high school. What follows is a great article from The Indianapolis Star about Kojak. The story has sadness and tragedy and, ultimately, a happy ending. It's pretty inspirational. Enjoy--even if you aren't a Hoosier!
ANDERSON, Ind. -- Kojak Fuller's local fame was extreme in the glory days of his high school basketball career.
Not coincidentally, so were his temptations.
And his mistakes.
He fathered the first of his six biological children at 15, dabbled in drugs as a user and seller, was arrested and jailed on multiple occasions on charges including weapons, battery and drugs.
What started as a cautionary tale, however, about the young local hero unable to handle his fame, has become an inspiration.
Fuller, 31, is playing basketball again, for the Anderson Champions of the American Basketball Association, his first organized competition in 11 years. More than that, he's a dedicated father, husband and community leader. Once revered for his basketball abilities, he is now respected on a much grander scale.
"He is not the same man who went to prison, I promise you," said Madison County prosecutor Rodney Cummings, who sent Fuller to prison in 1999 but later endorsed his early release.
"I would be absolutely shocked if Kojak offends again. He has a totally different attitude. His attitude before was that he thought he was something special."
That's no wonder. People in Anderson always viewed him that way.
A dynamic 5-7 guard at Anderson High School, he was an explosive athlete with a picture-perfect jump shot. He scored 47 points in a semistate tournament game against Ben Davis in his prep farewell and still ranks as Madison County's all-time scoring leader (2,060).
Fuller's athletic success and natural charisma, however, turned out to be obstacles in his insulated world. In high school, so many girls gathered to watch him practice that his coach, Norm Held, hung canvas to block their view. Around town, adults fawned over him as well.
"He was victimized by what we do to basketball stars in our communities," Cummings said. "You see it in places like Marion, Kokomo, Anderson . . . these guys are absolutely celebrities in their communities.
"He thought he could do anything and get away with it."
Inevitably, Fuller's mistakes caught up with him. He failed to land a major college scholarship because, as he puts it, "my GPA wasn't an eye-catcher on the positive side." His academic and legal issues led to his dismissal from two colleges and, as his basketball career slipped away, his personal troubles mounted.
He was sentenced to one year in county prison in April 1997 for pointing a sawed-off shotgun at two men, then was jailed again in September 1998 for violating probation after he was charged with battery against his girlfriend. Finally, in 1999, he was arrested for delivering crack cocaine to an undercover officer.
He received a 20-year sentence but was released after 7 1/2 years in the Wabash Valley, Miami County and Plainfield prisons for good behavior. He left the Plainfield Correctional Facility on March 27 this year, and completed its work release program Sept. 6.
Fuller doesn't blame anyone for his mistakes.
"I was lost," he said. "I thought basketball was who I was. I was addicted to the fame, the applause, the pats on the back, all the attention . . . so when basketball was over, I was still searching for the same pats on the back, the same applause.
"I just didn't have a work ethic. Remember, I'm a young father and I'm still wrapped up in basketball. All I see are these individuals who are distributing cocaine, and they've got the money; they've got the cars. It was not knowing how to deal with struggle, especially being a father at a young age. I didn't have someone to teach me that."
For Fuller, the motivation to change occurred as soon as he was sentenced to prison. He had often visited his oldest daughter's school to have lunch with her, attracting a flock of kids each time. Once they learned of his sentencing, however, those same kids teased her.
"They'd say, 'My momma said your daddy's going to prison!' " he said. "That crushed my daughter. Right then and there I said, 'No way. I'll never take my kids through that again. So I have to change.' "
Fuller turned to religion, attending church services and studying the Bible in prison. For him, incarceration became a means toward salvation, and the beginning of his role as a community activist.
He was a counselor and peacemaker for other inmates, breaking up fights and defusing trouble by helping inmates see the impact of their actions on their families.
Fuller's conduct was so exemplary that Cummings -- for the only time in his career as prosecutor -- wrote a letter to the parole board to endorse an early release. It wasn't a soft-hearted bit of sentiment. Cummings, an Anderson native who served 15 years on the police force before becoming prosecutor, has been hardened by the realities of criminal justice.
Fuller, though, seemed different.
"Everyone said he was a positive influence, was involved in ministries, stayed out of trouble and encouraged everyone else to stay out of trouble," Cummings said. "That feedback was coming for several years."
Fuller's release merged nicely with the formation of the Champions. Jesse Wilkerson, an architect who graduated from Anderson High School two years before Fuller, formed the franchise as a means to help unite the community. He co-owns it with his uncle Bobby, a starter on Indiana University's undefeated 1976 national championship team. They hired Ray Tolbert, a starter on IU's 1981 championship team, as coach. Fuller, while not the star player, is the centerpiece.
"I didn't think it would work without him," Jesse Wilkerson said. "Everybody wants to see Kojak back on the court. We felt something got snuffed out of all of us."
Fuller, who rarely played in prison, is still rounding into shape and has come off the bench in the Champions' first six games. Fans, however, are still drawn to him. He receives the loudest ovations and draws the most autograph seekers. After the opener, a young boy threw an arm across Fuller's back as he bent over to sign his name.
The Champions claim a purpose beyond basketball, however, and Fuller is a willing missionary.
"He's good with kids, he's a family man and he's really good with these players," said Tolbert, the associate pastor at Miracle Faith Temple in Anderson and the Outreach Minister at East 91st Christian Church in Indianapolis.
"He's really establishing himself as a leader -- a spiritual leader and a basketball leader. We're real proud of him. He's handling his situation with grace, humility and dignity."
Fuller isn't employed outside his job with the Champions, which pays a part-time salary, but hopes to land a church-related job. He lives with his wife, Tamara, and her two children from a previous relationship, and is in frequent communication with his six children, who live in Indianapolis, Westfield and Anderson.
He has kept busy reconnecting with people outside of the gymnasiums. He and Tamara organized a free basketball camp at an outdoor park last summer. He meets regularly with local groups that reach out to troubled kids, and he recently completed paperwork that will allow him to meet with inmates at the Pendleton Correctional Facility.
Madison County's all-time scoring leader still has points to make.
"I'm like a visual aid," he said. "People can see me, where I was and where I am. I'm a lot of people's hope.
"I want to make myself available. I've come to find out it's not all about Kojak."
Mark Montieth
Copyright 2006 IndyStar.com. All rights reserved
ANDERSON, Ind. -- Kojak Fuller's local fame was extreme in the glory days of his high school basketball career.
Not coincidentally, so were his temptations.
And his mistakes.
He fathered the first of his six biological children at 15, dabbled in drugs as a user and seller, was arrested and jailed on multiple occasions on charges including weapons, battery and drugs.
What started as a cautionary tale, however, about the young local hero unable to handle his fame, has become an inspiration.
Fuller, 31, is playing basketball again, for the Anderson Champions of the American Basketball Association, his first organized competition in 11 years. More than that, he's a dedicated father, husband and community leader. Once revered for his basketball abilities, he is now respected on a much grander scale.
"He is not the same man who went to prison, I promise you," said Madison County prosecutor Rodney Cummings, who sent Fuller to prison in 1999 but later endorsed his early release.
"I would be absolutely shocked if Kojak offends again. He has a totally different attitude. His attitude before was that he thought he was something special."
That's no wonder. People in Anderson always viewed him that way.
A dynamic 5-7 guard at Anderson High School, he was an explosive athlete with a picture-perfect jump shot. He scored 47 points in a semistate tournament game against Ben Davis in his prep farewell and still ranks as Madison County's all-time scoring leader (2,060).
Fuller's athletic success and natural charisma, however, turned out to be obstacles in his insulated world. In high school, so many girls gathered to watch him practice that his coach, Norm Held, hung canvas to block their view. Around town, adults fawned over him as well.
"He was victimized by what we do to basketball stars in our communities," Cummings said. "You see it in places like Marion, Kokomo, Anderson . . . these guys are absolutely celebrities in their communities.
"He thought he could do anything and get away with it."
Inevitably, Fuller's mistakes caught up with him. He failed to land a major college scholarship because, as he puts it, "my GPA wasn't an eye-catcher on the positive side." His academic and legal issues led to his dismissal from two colleges and, as his basketball career slipped away, his personal troubles mounted.
He was sentenced to one year in county prison in April 1997 for pointing a sawed-off shotgun at two men, then was jailed again in September 1998 for violating probation after he was charged with battery against his girlfriend. Finally, in 1999, he was arrested for delivering crack cocaine to an undercover officer.
He received a 20-year sentence but was released after 7 1/2 years in the Wabash Valley, Miami County and Plainfield prisons for good behavior. He left the Plainfield Correctional Facility on March 27 this year, and completed its work release program Sept. 6.
Fuller doesn't blame anyone for his mistakes.
"I was lost," he said. "I thought basketball was who I was. I was addicted to the fame, the applause, the pats on the back, all the attention . . . so when basketball was over, I was still searching for the same pats on the back, the same applause.
"I just didn't have a work ethic. Remember, I'm a young father and I'm still wrapped up in basketball. All I see are these individuals who are distributing cocaine, and they've got the money; they've got the cars. It was not knowing how to deal with struggle, especially being a father at a young age. I didn't have someone to teach me that."
For Fuller, the motivation to change occurred as soon as he was sentenced to prison. He had often visited his oldest daughter's school to have lunch with her, attracting a flock of kids each time. Once they learned of his sentencing, however, those same kids teased her.
"They'd say, 'My momma said your daddy's going to prison!' " he said. "That crushed my daughter. Right then and there I said, 'No way. I'll never take my kids through that again. So I have to change.' "
Fuller turned to religion, attending church services and studying the Bible in prison. For him, incarceration became a means toward salvation, and the beginning of his role as a community activist.
He was a counselor and peacemaker for other inmates, breaking up fights and defusing trouble by helping inmates see the impact of their actions on their families.
Fuller's conduct was so exemplary that Cummings -- for the only time in his career as prosecutor -- wrote a letter to the parole board to endorse an early release. It wasn't a soft-hearted bit of sentiment. Cummings, an Anderson native who served 15 years on the police force before becoming prosecutor, has been hardened by the realities of criminal justice.
Fuller, though, seemed different.
"Everyone said he was a positive influence, was involved in ministries, stayed out of trouble and encouraged everyone else to stay out of trouble," Cummings said. "That feedback was coming for several years."
Fuller's release merged nicely with the formation of the Champions. Jesse Wilkerson, an architect who graduated from Anderson High School two years before Fuller, formed the franchise as a means to help unite the community. He co-owns it with his uncle Bobby, a starter on Indiana University's undefeated 1976 national championship team. They hired Ray Tolbert, a starter on IU's 1981 championship team, as coach. Fuller, while not the star player, is the centerpiece.
"I didn't think it would work without him," Jesse Wilkerson said. "Everybody wants to see Kojak back on the court. We felt something got snuffed out of all of us."
Fuller, who rarely played in prison, is still rounding into shape and has come off the bench in the Champions' first six games. Fans, however, are still drawn to him. He receives the loudest ovations and draws the most autograph seekers. After the opener, a young boy threw an arm across Fuller's back as he bent over to sign his name.
The Champions claim a purpose beyond basketball, however, and Fuller is a willing missionary.
"He's good with kids, he's a family man and he's really good with these players," said Tolbert, the associate pastor at Miracle Faith Temple in Anderson and the Outreach Minister at East 91st Christian Church in Indianapolis.
"He's really establishing himself as a leader -- a spiritual leader and a basketball leader. We're real proud of him. He's handling his situation with grace, humility and dignity."
Fuller isn't employed outside his job with the Champions, which pays a part-time salary, but hopes to land a church-related job. He lives with his wife, Tamara, and her two children from a previous relationship, and is in frequent communication with his six children, who live in Indianapolis, Westfield and Anderson.
He has kept busy reconnecting with people outside of the gymnasiums. He and Tamara organized a free basketball camp at an outdoor park last summer. He meets regularly with local groups that reach out to troubled kids, and he recently completed paperwork that will allow him to meet with inmates at the Pendleton Correctional Facility.
Madison County's all-time scoring leader still has points to make.
"I'm like a visual aid," he said. "People can see me, where I was and where I am. I'm a lot of people's hope.
"I want to make myself available. I've come to find out it's not all about Kojak."
Mark Montieth
Copyright 2006 IndyStar.com. All rights reserved
posted by hondo at 9:05 PM
2 Comments:
Hey Brother, thanks for the blog! It's great. Where are you located in Indiana? Keep up the great work!
CO-LU-MB-US; C-O-L-U-M-B-U-S; COLUMBUS (BULL DOGS!), COLUMBUS (BULL DOGS!) COLUMBUS!!!! If you're not from Columbus, that makes absolutely no sense to you. If you are from Columbus, you will laugh when I say that, although Mike Pence accomplished a lot while at Columbus North (and beyond) he never was C-Man! Dan Hittle was the prototype for C-Man! Travis, if you know Mike (oops, I mean Congressman Pence), show him this post. He is a good man, and he will get a good laugh from this post! He would absolutely be a great president!
Post a Comment
<< Home