you tube interview Cuba by manny suarez part 2

you tube interview Cuba by manny suarez

Chapter 5: Jacksonville University: the First Two Years

JU wrote me and said they wanted me to spend the summer in Jacksonville getting ready for the new season. All four freshman would be there. I was able to get the month of June off and reported after the 4th of July. Dad rented a U-haul mainly to take my motorcycle in the back. I didn't have much to take. When we got to JU, all my stuff smelled of gasoline (I should have drained the gas before the trip). In the summer heat, we were glad the whole U-haul did not blow up. After Dad drove away, I felt very alone. Like a rookie, I did not have soap or towels. I spent my first and last bit of money on toiletries. That night a girl came by my room and invited me to a party. I was too scared, I said no thanks.

The next day I met with the coach and he asked me how were things going. I said I was hungry. He took care of me after that. He also sent me to the shipyards for a summer job. When I got there the man said I was hired as a welder and wanted to know how many years of experience did I have. I said none. He sent me back to JU. The coach got mad at me because I wasn't really suppose to weld just earn welder's wages. Next I got sent to a Winn Dixie warehouse. There I was told to find George Scholt (JU ballplayer who is now the head coach at JU). The next two months were truly a learning experience for me. First I found out I was getting paid as much as some guys who had been working there for 20 years. The south had no unions and therefore no overtime pay. The other JU players working there did not work very much. They mostly watched TV or walked around like they were doing something. I worked and earned the respect of the workers there. Sometimes they even slept in the car or the manager's office. One senior player Henry Williams got his paycheck and he was in Phili the entire summer. I learned quickly not to ask questions. Every night we played ball and on the weekends there were boosters who took us out. We went to World Football games or sailing. I mostly bowled a lot, for free of course.

The coach told me I needed to write a check for the dorm room and food since I wasn't officially enrolled in any classes. But right after I wrote the check, he gave me cash to fly home for a week before school started.

Freshman Year

When school started all the freshman were running around crazy trying to register. I just went to the basketball office and they walked me into the registration room and took care of it. I got to meet the rest of the team. There were 3 other freshman and two junior college transfer. There were two Puerto Ricans on the team, Charlie Bermudez and Bobby Alvarez. My roommate was Marty Gross, a white point guard from South Dakota. He was very neat and organized. I was not. We had pre-season conditioning. One day we all road bikes to the beach. Most of the team made it to the McDonalds down the street. We lost the rest of the team halfway to the beach at TGIF (Fridays). The four freshman (Ronnie Williams, Ricky Head, Anthony "Cricket" Williams, and myself) and the senior captain Henry Williams made it all the way.

The school snack bar was suppose to give us an allowance for late night snacks but the coach had forgotten to give them the list. So a couple of guys said they were going shopping for food. I chipped in $5 to the cause. I was surprised when they returned with 3 or 4 grocery bags full with food and they returned $4 back to me. They had only paid for the bread. Damn Shame!

The ex-coach, Joe Williams, had been let go because the NCAA was investigating JU. Two years before I arrived, Coach Williams had recruited the best four freshman in the northeast. They were all living off campus. They all had their own cars. Some were married and had children. The NCAA agreed not to punish JU if Coach Williams left and all the players moved back on campus. JU hired Coach Gottlieb to clean up the program. I could tell the six new recruits were all clean players.

But a couple of the starters started taking money from professional agents and some NBA scouts told them they could play European ball and then get drafted by the NBA. So Henry Williams and another player cashed their agents checks at the school's bank. They were gone! Henry was eventually drafted by Utah and Shawn by Phili. But neither of them made it. That opened up two starting positions on the team.

Then two weeks before our opener another starter Marvin Lloyd broke his wrist. All of a sudden I found myself starting. I could not believe it. It was a miracle. We started Carlos 6'7" and myself 6'6" inside. Bobby Alvarez also started and we were called the "EZ" brothers. The rednecks in town were not too pleased. They did not like the blacks either but at least they were American.

Well I took my first college shot from the corner. At the coliseum it is hard to see the rim. All you see is a sea of faces. Sure enough it was an air ball. Marvin Lloyd came back and I did not start anymore but I got good playing time subbing for Carlos and Marvin.

I received another learning lesson when we travelled through the airport on route to our Christmas tournaments, the players would walk into the gift shops and come out with jewlery and sun glasses. Of course none of it paid for. They would explain to me that that was the only way they could get Christmas presents for their Moms and families.

I've always been a big proponent that college players should be given loans just like any college student. If the banks are stupid enough to loan it to them, then that's their problem. Of course the NCAA would have to put a cap on it like $2,000 a year. A $8,000 loan is nothing for a college graduate. I say it is unfair to throw a poor boy into a private university and expect him to take girls out or entertain himself.

Another time one of the players was arrested in his dorm room. They found three TV's, four stereo systems and a drawer full of watches and jewelry. He just told me before he flew home that he was always brought up that if someone has something you want, you take it.

That spring I dated a girl who liked to swim. I had already decided to take some spring classes so that I could graduate in four years. Since we practiced and traveled all the time, we could not take a full load. Well I swam miles that spring. It was the best thing for my knees. I finally ended up swimming an entire mile ( 50 ft. a lap times 105 laps). It took forever.

That summer I went back to DC and worked at a gas station (graveyard shift). This was great because I could play ball all day at different gyms and playgrounds. I came back my sophomore year in the best shape of my life. I was no longer a fluke recruit riding the bench. I was the 6th or 7th man as a freshman and now fighting for a starting position.

Sophomore Year

Again luck came my way. Bobby Alverez's knee got worse and he did not return. Carlos Bermudez graduated, as did Ricky Coleman and Jimmy Clark. Coach Gottlieb brought in some new recruits but they were not too solid. Not making a post season tournament and all the players having to live on campus rather than apartments did not help recruiting.

[ One thing I always remember when talking to young players who were thinking about Berkeley is that we could not promise post season state championships, but something more important, the best education in Tampa and maybe Florida.

As I looked down the bench, I could see that our seniors were going to Dartmouth, Princeton, Washington U. in St. Louis and Notre Dame. Every year when the players returned to play ball, they would remind me of how successful Berkeley was in preparing these students for success not only in college but more importantly in life.

It was great teaching bright players. You only had to go over plays once or twice. They understood why we ran plays when we did. They knew this was only a game and play because it was fun. We liked to win but were not destroyed if we lost. We did not try to win at all cost and school work always had first priority.

It was easy to convince parents that Berkeley was the right school for their children. And the parents or players who did not see the value of a great education, we did not want on our team. These players would only worry about their own statistics and looking good for the college coaches. These players would not do their homework and not do well in their courses causing the team unnecessary distractions.

Yes, this was a bright group of young men and this last play would definitely work. They knew the play and why it would work. All I had to do was to refresh their memories.]

We started pre-season conditioning the second week back. Kent Glover and Marvin Lloyd took over the team. I made sure that I was always in the front two or three of every activity we did. We ran stairs, we ran golf courses, we ran everywhere and played ball all the other times. I ran in the school's Turkey Trutt the morning before our two-a-day practices. I came in sixth place. One day in practice, coach stopped the practice and asked the assistant coach who had the most rebounds. He said Manny has 24 rebounds and the next person has 6. I knew then that this was my year. Yes, I started. I ended up with the second most minutes played behind Kent Glover. I was second in rebounds behind Marvin Lloyd. And I was first in taking charges. We got paid $2 for each charge we took. I took so many that I had to have my tailbone operated on during the off season. I later found out that the other players were using the coach's credit card to shop. The most I got was my freshman year when the assistant coach asked my roommate if I had more than one outfit to wear to functions. My roommate said no. The coach who was 6'5" let me choose some outfits from his closet.

We ended the year 18-11 and waiting for an NIT bid that we never got. Coach Gotlieb was let go. JU was used to post season tournaments.

Against U. of Wisconsin when I was taken out of the game, the radio announcer said I just got a standing ovation. What really happened was that Marty Gross, a point guard, got so excited about going into the game that when he pulled down his warm-ups, he pulled down his shorts and mooned the entire crowd. He made Sports Illustrated for the moon-shine award.

At this time an NBA team in Buffalo was thinking of relocation to Hollywood, Florida (just north of Miami). They sent me a letter saying they were interested in me because they wanted a Cuban on the team. They had seen me play in Buffalo against Niagara U. and liked my hustle. As it turned out they moved to Atlanta and no I never heard from them again.

This was the first year of the Sun Belt Conference. We played against UNC at Charlotte. I covered Cedric Cornbread Maxwell, who would later play for the Boston Celtics. I held him to 2 for 10 shooting in the 1st half. He was very mad. My strategy was to pick him up at half court and not let him catch the ball. He hated this and told me so with an elbow at the foul line during a free throw. I told him he was an All-American and would be drafted, so getting into a fight with me would not help his career. I don't think he ever had anyone explain all this to him in a logical manner during the game.

[ I have always taught my players that there is no need to throw punches. You could always logically talk your way out of any situation. No matter how mad the other coach would get during the game I would calmly explain to them the situation and try to resolve their anger. I always started out by saying, "You are probably right and you are obviously a good coach, but..."

I was especially proud of this group because they had been awarded the best sportsmanship team by the referee association. I had hoped they had learned this valuable lesson for life.]

In the second half, they setup plays where I would get picked two or three times to get Cornbread open. Once he got the ball, I could not stop him. He was the Sun Belt player of the year.

I used this same technique on the nation's leading scorer, McCurry, from Richmond U. and kept him down to under 10 touches for 8 pts. in the 1st half. He got into a shoving match with me in the 2nd half and the ref threw both of us out. Their coach said you can't do that he is our whole team. So the ref let him back into the game but not me. Damn shame! I didn't care because by that time we were ahead by 20 and I was exhausted.

I also used it against 7 foot Fesser Leonard of Furman. He ran over me at half court. The first time the ref didn't see it, no call. The second time the ref saw it and smiled at me. So I gave Fesser a good elbow in the back. He looked DOWN at me and I said I'm sorry (ready to run for my life). That game we had on a full court press and I was at the point. We stole the ball and went into overtime but I could not play in the overtime because I was completely exhausted. The trainer said I looked as white as a ghost and made me breath into a bag. The last game of the season I scored 18 pts..

Fate struck again. JU hired an assistant coach from Stetson, Coach Don Beasley. He had tried to get me to transfer to Stetson when we played them in Deland, Florida my sophomore year. He told me I would be a starter at Stetson and that if I was ever unhappy at JU to give him a call. When he arrived at JU, he told me he was going to make me into an All-American defensive player or at least All-America Scholastic Athlete (I had a 4.0 my freshman year and a 3.5 my sophomore year majoring in Accounting).

Chapter 4: St. Anslem's Abby School

Our family was split into two generations. The top consisted of 7 girls and 1 boy. The boy, George, being the second oldest over-all. The second generation was made up of 5 boys and 1 girl. Xavier was the oldest and Maria was the only girl. When the militia men took over our house in Cuba, they put my Dad and older sisters in jail. They let Xavier with the bottom six stay at home. Xavier became our leader. (Today he is Mayor of Miami.) When we came to this country, we had no money and the monks at St. Anselm's Abbey allowed Xavier and Charlie to attend for free.

Basketball was in Xavier's blood. My father had played ball at Belen High School in Havana and he and his brother Patrick were the stars on the team. They even traveled to the U.S. to play tournaments in Florida. Well Xavier and Charlie played all the time. I started playing at the playgrounds when I was in the 5th grade. My sister Maria also played a lot. She was the best player on her 7 & 8th grade team at St. Lukes. Back then girls' basketball had six players (2 defenders, 2 forwards, and 2 rovers). The two rovers were the only players who could go full court. Girls were only allowed to dribble the ball three times and then had to pass. This was the first time I got mad because I felt the girls should play the same rules as the boys. It took the country another ten years to come to the same conclusion. At this time my sister beat me all the time playing one-on-one. But she taught me too well.

I didn't see many of my older brother's games because St. Anselm's was 30 miles away from home and they played mostly at night. But the game I'll never forget was the finals of the St. Anselm's tournament against Georgetown Prep. Xavier controlled the game with his dribble and hustle and Charlie scored with his beautiful jump shot. I remember the score was tied with seconds to go. Xavier stole the ball and went the length of the court to win the game on a layup. The crowd went wild and stormed the players. I knew then that I would love this game.

I was later told by several people that this was a big upset because Georgetown Prep was a big school with many great athletes including Coach Dwyer's son Bobby who would later play ball for Wake Forest University. St. Anselm's was a very small school with only 20 boys graduating each year. I was told that the coach was the best in the D.C. area. His name was coach Robert Dwyer. He had coached at Bishop Carroll and had a 55 game winning streak and a national ranking with players like John Thompson (6'11") and Tom Hoover (6'9"). But coach had suffered a heart attack and the doctors said he could not handle big time stress anymore. The Headmaster, Father Hughes at St. Anselm's convinced him that St. Anselm's was definitely small time ball.

After Charlie graduated, I was accepted into the 7th grade at St. Anselm's. My brother Mel was also accepted into the 11th grade. You might say we took over Xavier's and Charlie's free rides.

Xavier had gone onto Villanova University in Pennsylvania where he tried out for the team three years. But the Villanova team went to the NCAA finals with players named Howard Porter and Chris Ford (Chris is now the coach of the Boston Celtics). Villanova also had all-americans Mike Siane in football and Marty Laquori in track.

Charlie went to UVA (Virginia) and made the freshman team. The dean of architecture school told him he had to decide between his career or basketball. Charlie chose his career.

Mel started on the varsity. I started on the 8th grade team. This was the time I started playing real ball. My older brothers would take me along to different playgrounds all over DC. Some of our favorites were Chevy Chase and Candy Cane park.

In the 8th grade, I played on the 8th grade team and the freshman team. Sometimes I had two games on Saturdays and then we would head to the playgrounds for some nighttime ball. I grew two inches each year 5'8", 5'10" and then six feet. My pants were always too short. I even played in a couple of J.V. games. I have my first newspaper clipping where I scored 18 pts. for the J.V. when I was in 8th grade. I used to love those special occasions when Coach Dwyer would invite me to practice with the varsity. These were the only times I got to play with one of my older brothers, Mel. Usually it was during the Christmas vacation and they were short of players.

I remember it would snow and Mel would call up the school and say we could not go to school because the roads were too icy. But we would be there for practice. The monks would walk into the gym and see us and just shake their heads. We would explain that by noon the ice had melted.

I used to love playing during lunch time. Our gym was a little walk away from the school. We would eat while walking and play everyday. Then run back to class all sweaty.

At St.Anselm's they paddled the boys who didn't follow the rules, usually four wacks. In the 8th grade I broke the school record with 100 wacks. My friends all bought me ice cream for that accomplishment. Most of them came from Fr. Michael, the assistant principal, who we called "Mickey Mouse". My freshman year when I got in trouble I looked DOWN at Fr. Michael and said, "We're not going to paddle any more are we?" Our class started out with 40 kids but we only graduated 22. My freshman year many of my friends did not return. Some for behavioral problems, others went to high schools in their neighborhoods, and some could not afford the tuition. This was my first taste of the weeding out process in America. Now I know that I only survived because of my older brothers reputation and Coach Dwyer's influence. The monks just prayed I would grow up soon.

[ I thought I had a good system of discipline for the team. Whenever a player misbehaved I would assign laps unless the player could hit two free throws. All of a sudden some of the more active kids on the team would be practicing their free throws so as not to have to run laps. This helped because it was usually these same aggressive players that I had to play at the end of the games to steal the ball and put on a full court press. In turn they would get fouled and like all my players know close games are won and lost on the free throw line. In this game we had just made a couple of one-and-ones to keep the score so close.]

Since we lived in McLean, Virginia and St.Anselm's was in N.E., D.C., I had about a 45 to 60 minute drive each way to school and home. My first two years (7th & 8th) my brother Mel was a junior and then a senior. We would weave our way to school stopping at different houses picking up students usually filling up the car to its capacity of six passengers. It was an American Motors Rambler. It had a General Motors engine and a Chrysler transmission. Where it got it's other parts no one knew. By this time the autometer was reaching 150,000 miles, it was a challenge for the auto parts guy to try to get us the right parts when they needed replacing.

Our daily adventures included seeing how little gas the tank could have and us still make it to school. Mel was not very good at this and we would run out at least once a week. Mel would put in about $2.00 at a time. Back then that would buy six gallons. But the Rambler only got about 10 mpg and the round-trip to school was about 60 miles. So when we ran out gas on the Beltway (interstate highway circling D.C.) being the youngest, I would have to climb over the highway fence and start asking people in the nearby houses for gas. Since it was still early in the morning, I would encounter all sorts of different ladies in different stages of undress. Now these ladies living near the highway and being home by themselves had been warned by their husbands to never talk to strangers especially if they claim to be out of gas. GREAT. Even though I was only 13 or 14 at 5'10" I guess I was scary enough. These ladies would scream and say they were calling the cops. After a while I got good at starting my conversation by saying, "Please don't scream and please don't call the cops, I just want a little gas so that I can get my sick mother to the doctor's office." I also learned to put on my school coat and straighten my school tie. Sometimes Mel would be arguing with the various car poolers about politics or sports and we would run through a red light. I always had a map handy for all the times we got lost.

[ I had a great play for the end of the game. I knew it and the players knew it. I thought back on my experiences as a child because they had taught me the valuable lesson on being prepared and problem solving.

I had talked to the refs and they had called a good game. In fact they had given our team a couple of calls because they knew I loved defense and taught my players to take charges. Many refs would just blow the whistle and make the call against the defense player only because they saw bodies falling and didn't understand the beauty of a charge.

The refs also knew I loved boxing out and had allow us to get away with excess boxing out. Some refs who didn't understand this would think the defensive player was using their butt to push off the offensive player. They had actually called a couple of over the back calls on the other team, when it could have gone either way. This would help my final play and maybe win the game for us.

The refs also knew that we were the underdogs in the game, and that we had played hard against a more talented team to keep it this close. I had worked before the game, during the game, and at half-time on the refs so that THEY would be prepared for these last seconds.]

Mel got into an accident (the ones that were reported) each of his first three years of driving. One of them was on a triple date where he ran out of gas (what else?). He left the station wagon in the middle of the road and another car came over the hill and sent it flying. Thank God no one was in the car at the time.

Towards the end of its life, the Rambler was popping head gaskets as fast as we could replace them. Once I had just pushed the car to get it going again, Mel did not want to stop to let me in so he kept on going down the highway. I did not want to be left behind so I ran and jumped on the back of the car and held on for my life. Mel was going about 35 mph to the nearest gas station with me on the back banging the back window begging to be let me in the car.

Another day on the way to school, we were stopped at a red light in front of one of these huge public schools. And the students were not allowed in, so there would be a huge crowd waiting at the locked front doors. It had snowed that night and the guys in the car pool were grabbing snow off the roof of our car and throwing it at people along our route. When we got to the stop light in front of this school, one of the dumber kids in the car threw a snow ball at the crowd. All of a sudden, we saw about 100 angry students running at us pounding the car with "ice balls." Mel floored the car as we took another red light.

One summer, Coach Dwyer had Mel and I deliver insurance forms to public schools all over Washington DC. This is the place where McDonalds have bullet proof glass and revolving doors to deliver the food to its customers. Sometimes we would park the station wagon half way between two schools. Mel would walk to one school and I to the other. Sure enough I had some black kids come after me. I threw the boxes into the air and ran as fast I could. I hid down some stairs next to some stores. The boys came around the corner and were looking for me. I was all crunched down trebling and full of sweat. I wanted to breath but I couldn't (they might hear me). I never forget as one of the boys looked down the stairs and we made eye-to-eye contact. He saw me but told the other boys lets go check over there. He saved my life. That is when I realized that many bad boys had good hearts but were afraid to show it.

As you can see Mel was very special to me. He was able to walk on his hands and ride bicycles backwards. It was sad to see him go off to college.

Now that Mel was gone, it was up to Mary to drive the carpool. In 9th & 10th grade, she would drop me off at Peter Hamm's house. Peter was a junior and then a senior and he had his own carpool. Things were not as exciting with this carpool. The car discussions on the way to school were much more serious in nature and I can't remember ever running out of gas. Maybe it was because Peter's brother owned a gas station and we never had to pay for gas.

My junior year, I hitchhiked to school. My Dad would drop me off on the way to work at the River Road and Beltway exit. I actually enjoyed this and got to meet a lot of interesting people. With my school uniform, I would get picked up frequently. The only thing I hated was the cold winters weather, Winters would get very cold in D.C. while hitchhiking.

My senior year, I got a motorcycle and that was something my Dad was proud of me because I was the only son who ever asked permission to buy a motorcycle. Yes, I laid it down several times. But I only got a few scratches and bruises. I drove it to Villanova in Penn to visit Mel and I drove it to Five Starts basketball camp also in Penn. One time I stopped at a coffeeshop on I-95 and it was so cold I had two pairs of long underwear and two pairs of blue jeans. I had drank all this coffee so I had to go really bad. I was trying to get through all the zippers. The man next to me at the urinals said, "Did you lose something?"

I took my prize possession to college. Unfortunately I parked it on the beach in Jacksonville, Florida. I returned later that night and the waves were up against the bike. As I jumped down from the boardwalk and tried to walk my bike back to the exit ramp, the waves kept crashing down on me. Boy what a rookie I was! The bike did start eventually but it was never the same. The saltwater slowly killed it. I eventually traded it to another college student for his portable T.V..

(put in stories about my trips with the sisters around the country.)

My freshman year at St. Anselm's, I started on the varsity. I had grown 4 inches in the past year and was now 6'2". Coach Dwyer had sent me to Coach Bill Foster's (Duke U.) basketball camp in the Pocono Mountains in Penn. We would get skill instruction all day from the college coaches and play games all night. I was a waiter in order to earn my way through the camp. That first year was hard. I was a skinny little kid and I got pushed around by the high school kids. I even got 10 stitches above my eye from an elbow. But I remember Hall of Famer Adolf Rupp coaching my team because our coach was sick. Rupp was suppose to play every kid on the team during the game. Going into the 4th quarter, he addressed the bench, "Do you want to win the game or do you want to play?". We all yelled, "Win the game!" He said, "Ok then, let's put our five best players out there. I was one of those he chose (very much to the surprise of the older players). Someone had finally seen me box out, set picks, and rebound. I knew I would love this game.

[ I had 24 players come out for the team this year. I knew that I could not have successful practices with so many faces staring at me all the time for attention. Our school has a no-cut policy which I believe was not a good policy for varsity teams. By the time you are a junior or senior in high school if you want to play on a varsity team, you better be one of the top twelve players. If you are not, you need to look into another sport or another hobby.

I hate this part of coaching the most. But I was being paid to do the best I could with this team and some of these seniors needed to wake up before going off to college. So I would let them all practice during the first week. Two or three would drop out because of the running at the end of every practice. A few would realize that they were not going to see much playing time during the game. That would leave me with about 18 players. Most teams carry only 12 players. I would try to carry 15. So I would gather the bottom 8 players and explain to them that basketball required only 5 players. I usually played seven to eight players on a regular rotation. The next five players would play only if we were ahead by 20 points or down by 20 points. I would explain to them that they could still learn a lot in practice and that it was a good experience to be part of a team. But I wanted a commitment that they would stick out for the entire season and come to all the games. Eventually one or two would approach me and explain that they had to concentrate on their studies. I always encouraged them to try another sport. In soccer there are 11 players on the field and you need 22 for practice.

There were 15 players on the bench tonight. The five best were in the game and the other 10 were huddled around giving words of encouragement and happy to be part of a great group.]

At the beginning of my freshman year, Coach Dwyer started me in the first game. I was so excited but after the game the senior who had started the year before cornered me in the locker room and told me he was going to beat me up. He said the only reason I started was because I was the coach's pet, and the coach felt sorry for our family. That was one of the first times I felt I was different from the rest of the boys at St. Anselms. All the other players just stood there and said nothing. This is also when I learned I was going to have to do it on my own.

We had a pretty good year. Won more games then we lost. I mainly helped on defense and rebounding. Pete Hamm (future husband of Maria, my sister) and Jeff Crowne did most of the scoring.

The story goes that the tournament committee wanted to give me the Best Defensive player award for the tournament. But Coach Dwyer told them he did not want a freshman getting one of the major awards. I knew then that I did indeed deserve to be starting and later I would understand how Coach was looking out for my best interest.

[ Players never understood why I didn't tell them how great they play. I learned this early from the best. I would tell my players, "It is up to your parents to tell you how great you are. I am here to coach and teach you how to improve. If you want compliments, go to your teammates or the J.V. coach or the opposing players. They will all tell you how great you played. But who is going to show you where you can improve. Who is going to mold you into a team player so that the team can win." I've never seen one player beat a team of five (not even Michael Jordon the greatest player of all time). All the great coaches like John Wooden (UCLA), Dean Smith (North Carolina), and Coach K. (Duke) immediately told their superstars when they sat down all their mistakes. I don't believe practice makes perfect, but it does make better.

This team had learned that lesson well and we had made very few mistakes tonight.]

My sophomore year was the beginning of my hell on earth. I was now 6'2" and had put on about 20 lbs. All the playing during the summer camps and at playgrounds had toughened me up. Peter and Jeff were returning for their senior year and we were talking undefeated. Unfortunately in a preseason game I twisted my right knee. In those days you put ice on it, took some aspirin, rested a few days, and played again. A week later I tore it up again and worse. Coach Dwyer tried hard to tape it and I went to Catholic U. training room for rehab. A month later I tried to play and down I went again. This time I went to see a doctor. He said it was in real bad shape. He took pints of blood and fluids out of the knee. He said I tore up the cartilage and my ligaments. Everything else was stretched out. He said it needed to be operated on. I asked him to wait until after the season to operate.

So I got a chance to play in our annual St. Anselm's Tournament. I came off the bench the first night, but I started the next two nights. We won the whole thing. Jeff Crowne won MVP, Peter Hamm won Best Offensive Player, and I won Best Defensive Player. I had averaged 15 rebounds and 5 block shots a game. This would be one of the proudest moments of my life. The next day's Washington Post read, "Beware of Greeks bearing gift and St. Anselm's giving out invitations to its tournament."

That spring Dr. Levine cut open my knee. Two railroad tracks down the sides. Took the knee cap out and scraped all the residue off the backside. Cut out the cartilage and tried to repair the ligament. In 1972 this was a nasty operation. The doctor said I would not be able to play ball again. It took me 2 weeks before I could even walk. By then the rest of the muscles had gotten soft. I went to rehab three times a week. It hurt like hell. Everyone told me I was too soft.

My junior year we were without Jeff and Peter who had graduated. It was now time for others to pick up the scoring slack. Terry McCartin was the senior and a pure shooter. He would lead the way. David Pickering and Charlie Peters, our point guard, also did their share. We had a couple of guys Steve Kearney and Sam Blick that split time in the 5th spot. We won a lot of games this year but you could always sense that we were really getting ready for next year. My knee held up which was a big surprise. I had grown to 6'3" and put on some weight especially since I could not run as much while I re-habed the knee. We made it to the St. Anselm's finals against Georgetown Prep. Coach Dwyer had invited his ex-player friend who was doing college games to ref. I think his name was Jimmy Hal. Well the ref called walking on Terry 3 or 4 times during the game just as Terry released the ball on his shot. Taking Terry's scoring out of the game killed us. We were tied with 20 seconds on the clock and coach had told us to run the pass and pick away until either someone had a layup or time was running out. Anyway I thought time was running out and I took a jump shot from the top of the key and missed. Georgetown got the rebound with 3 seconds to go. They called a timeout and scored on the buzzer.

Many years later while sharing memories with the coach, he still brought up the missed shot and how important it was to have waited several more seconds. Of course, now I know how much better it would have been for me to be under the basket to collect the rebound.

That summer would be one of the most important summers of my career. I had to get into college shape. I was in a D.C. all-star league where I played against some of the best players in the U.S.. My older brother Xavier said he realized then that I had a chance to play big time college ball.

I also visited Georgetown U. where John Thompson was building a program. Every once in a while I played against the Washingotn Redskins football team including: Larry Brown, Roy Jefferson and Charlie Taylor. They played very rough and I learned to play rough. I also played at the U. of Maryland and some of their players, including John Lucus now NBA coach.

Then Dwyer sent me to Five Star Camp outside of New York. There would be 250 college coaches there. I drove my motorcycle a day early ands selected the biggest bed in my cabin. Each time I returned to the cabin, my stuff would be taken off and replaced with someone else's stuff. I would have to take their stuff off and put mine back on. All of a sudden a big man came through the door. It was Moses Malone. He said the other beds were too small for him. I said tough I was there first. I helped him set up a little table at the end of his bed so his legs would not hang over the edge. Our cabin housed the waiters. The best players in the camp who were attending for free but waited on tables to pay their way. Moses had a point guard from his high school St. Petersberg, Virginia. His name was Noah (no kidding). Noah and I became good friends. He was married, had two kids, and worked at a luggage factory.

What a camp ! This was much different then Bill Foster's Pocono Mts. camp. Here we played games all day and hundreds of coaches watched us. Unfortunately my knee could not take the pounding of the asphalt courts. By the second day I was through. Ice wouldn't help. I did get a chance to see the top 100 players from the northeast play. Many I would see later in college box scores.

This summer I also went to the Pocono Camp. The competition wasn't as great except for the counselors' games at night. Jim Valvano showed up with a stuffed rat on a skate board. He gave me a "gym rat" t-shirt because he caught a bunch of us playing ball at midnight when we were supposed to be sleeping.

[ One of the reason that Berkeley could never compete with Jesuit or Tampa Catholic is because they were all gym rats. You could walk into the gym anytime, anyday and there would be a game going on. Most of the players played in one or two leagues during the summer. Even after graduating they had an alumni league. Games between Jesuit and TC were so intense that the game had to be moved to HCC the local community college.

I tried to instill the gym rat mentality in our players and the top six had played at Berkeley in the summer league for the past four years. Even though we had still lost to Jesuit and TC during the season, we had at least played them tough and it had helped for tonight's game. We were not yet gym rats but at least we knew where the gym was. I must admit I felt a certain pride when some of our boys had gotten into trouble with the Dean when they were caught shooting free throws during their study hall the day of an important game. Of course I told them never to do that again.]

Senior year I was on cloud nine. I was now the team captain. Basketball finally got serious. I felt we could and should win every game on our schedule. Our first disappointment came early when we lost to St. Stephen's in their Christmas tournament. I spent most of the game on the bench in foul trouble. I also got a technical for telling the ref that he was trying to win the game for the home team. Dwyer was not pleased with me and did not start me for the 2nd half.

[ The proudest accomplishment for this team was that we had not been hit with a technical foul all year. Several refs had conveyed to me that the association was very impressed and that many were requesting to call Berkeley games. This had worked to our advantage all year because whenever I would question a call they would respect it and keep an eye open to make up for it.

I especially taught my players to help opposing players off the floor when they fell. I actually saw some fouls that should have been a charge called a defensive foul because we had help the opposing player on the foul before.]

The next big test came against Towson Catholic of Baltimore. They were an all black team with a couple of 6' 7" players. By now I was getting letters from many colleges. This was before the NCAA in the 1980's started putting in all the rules on recruiting. For this game no less than 4 or 5 college coaches were going to be there. Duke had called and talked to Dwyer.

I had the game of my life. By half time, I had 15 pts. and 12 rebounds, and we were ahead by 8 or 10 pts. The other team looked in shock. The next day's Washington Post read, "Towson Catholic was zoned, zapped, and Manually Suarezed." My brother Xavier called from Boston to tell me that I was on the front page of the sports section of the Washington Post. He could not believe it. I remember getting letters from Holly Cross, Harvard, Assumption and Bentley (all Boston area schools) right after that game.

We won the game and after the game the Duke assistant coach told Dwyer that I wasn't aggressive enough. Coach could not believe what he heard. He told the recruiter, "Manny had a great game over 20 pts. and almost as many rebounds." The guy from Duke said, "Oh, I must have of been watching the wrong guy." Indeed he was watching (#55) 6' 8" junior Steve Castellon who was quiet and timid. Steve would later set all the scoring records for St. Anselm's his senior year and play basketball for U. of Virginia.

Meanwhile the coach from Jacksonville University was in town for a game. He had some time to kill and reading the Washington Post saw that there was a big game at St. Anthony's. This was the high school that John Thompson coached at and regularly ranked in the top ten in the nation. Well St. Anthony's is a couple of blocks away from St. Anselm's, the JU coach ended up at the wrong gym. He had heard that St. Anthony's was a small Catholic school and he saw some friends from other colleges in our gym, so he felt he was in the right place. He only strayed for the first half and reported back to his school that he had seen a nice ball player named Manny Suarez.

I started visiting schools. I had already told Georgetown that I wanted to leave D.C. area. I had visited Villanova several times but my two brothers and father had gone there and I also wanted to study accounting not engineering which is what I thought Villanova was all about. I wanted to be different, so I drove up to Bucknell in Penn with Sam Blick. Jim Valvano was coach and he treated us very nice. I got shoes and a complete warm-up outfit. He put us up at his own house and we ate like kings. The place was beautiful with snow on the grounds.

I came back telling Coach Dwyer that that was where I wanted to go. It was the perfect school and the coach really wanted me. I would have my own apartment and I could use the coach's car any time I wanted to go back home for a visit. Coach Dwyer said do not sign yet, visit a few more schools.

Next I visited St. Bonniventure in upstate New York. NBA Hall of Famer Bob Lanier had just graduated from there. Unfortunately I got snowed in for 3 days. The closest airport was at Buffalo, N.Y.. I knew I would not be coming to St. Bonnie. When I got back to St. Anselm's, I had a Calculus test waiting for me. It had a bunch of problems with "e" in them and I didn't even know what "e" was. I got a "2" out of 100 pts. Father Maurice (Bromo) was not too pleased. I had missed too many days of school. He let me take the test again which I passed.

I visited Assumption and Bentley in Boston. Every time I would come home saying I am ready to sign. Bentley was beautiful and had me interviewed after their game on T.V.. It was a strong business school and I would have a good chance to start as a freshman.

Then I got a letter from J.U.. I visited and fell in love with Florida. It was warm in March while there was snow in the north. People were already swimming in outside pools. They put me up at a beautiful hotel on the beach. I got first class treatment. I was even offered a date. I turned that down and went bowling instead (10 straight games). They gave me clothes, shoes and money for meals and entertainment but everything was already paid for. The players were all living in apartments and driving nice cars. I was in paradise. J.U. had just gotten to the NCAA finals with NBA Hall of Famer Artis Gilmore, and traveled first class all over the country. There was no J.U. football and no professional team in Jacksonville, so every where we went all you heard about was J.U.'s basketball. The school was small (2,000 students) and classrooms opened up to the outside with beautiful grass and trees.

The first time J.U. called to sign me, I was visiting my brother at Villanova, so they thought I was still looking for a school. The second time they called was during spring break, I was playing ball at Georgetown, and I hadn't had a chance to talk to Coach Dwyer who was out of town. My brother Xavier wanted me to consider Harvard. And I talked to their coach but they wanted me to study hard, work part time, and play ball. I would also have to get student loans. Not very appealing after my visits to other schools. My Dad helped during this time. He said it was my decision. I could be the Head of a mouse (Division II or III school) or the Tail of a lion (JU). I did sign with JU in my living room with my Dad watching. Later on I found out that that morning the coach was in New York offering this last scholarship to another player but the player turned JU down. Again fate determined my future.

[ What would I tell my senior players? Two of them had received some letters and had attended All-Star Camp just like me. They had to decide either to go to a Division III school and play ball (traveling by bus) or go to Division I (Ivy League) and get a high power education but never play for the team. I always told them the truth and that it was their decision. Playing college ball was the ultimate but they would never play pro ball. Education would be there for a lifetime (and there was always intramuals).

One alumni Yram Groff had gone to Amherst and became their second leading scorer of all time. He would never had traded his four years of Division III ball for anything. And now he is a doctor. Another alumni Rick Dreyer played freshman ball for Dartmouth but did not go any further although he was the captain of their golf team and won the northeast regional of the NCAA. He too is now a doctor. Our third best player at Berkeley since I started coaching there, Kris Kaliebe played freshman football for Columbia but never basketball. He is now a doctor. Another top scorer Russ Lowrey went to SMU in Texas and is a doctor now too.

As I looked behind the bench, I could see a couple of recruiters. They weren't coaches but they had no children playing in this game. Their notebooks, serious look and gray hair gave them away every time. I only wish I could talk to them to let them know about the great character of our players. I'd hope they had witnessed some of it during the game.]

A week after signing with JU, Coach Bill Foster called from Duke. He had just signed on as their coach and had remembered me from his Pocono Mts. Camp. I had to tell him I had already signed with JU. He wished me best of luck and to give him a call if I ever needed to talk. In the next several years, Bill Foster would take Duke to the NCAA final four. I followed that team very closely and several of the players went on to play in the NBA. I never regretted not going to Duke. I would have probably rode the bench.

That spring rather than play baseball for St. Anselm's, I spent all my time playing ball. JU sent me a newspaper clipping from the Jacksonville Times announcing my signing. They described me as 6'8" (I was 6'6") and 220 lbs. (I was 200 lbs.). They also said I averaged 20 pts. and 20 rebounds a game and played for a powerhouse program in DC. (I never knew anyone kept rebound statistics at St. Anselm's.) This was my first taste of college hype.

JU had made it to the final four on the NIT (This was when the NIT was still comparable to the NCAA). The New York TV market paid schools more than the NCAA. With UCLA winning the NCAA 10 times, the eastern schools considered the NCAA a west coast tournament. New York and Madison Square Gardens was the place to go. The lights, the city, the excitement, New York is where they played real basketball. JU player Henry Williams was the tournament's MVP the year before I arrived.

I got invited to several all-star games. One was at the brand new Capitol Center (now called the USA Air Arena). It was the Washington All-Stars vs. the USA All-Stars. When they introduced the USA team for the last player, they turned off all the lights and started a smoke machine. And they read Mose's Ten Commandments, "1. Thou shall not come into my zone, 2. Thou shall not rebound in my zone, etc." The coach looked at me and said, "You got him." It was 6'11" Moses Malone. I had bunked with him at the Five Star camp in NJ, so I was not scared. He had signed with nearby U. of Maryland coached by Left Driesel. But he would skip college and play for the NBA instead. After 22 years, he is still playing in the NBA. Needless to say, I could not stop Moses from scoring but on this all-star team Moses did not get the ball too often, unless he shoved me out of the way for a rebound when I was boxing him out.

After signing with JU, I must have been impossible to live with. Some of the monks did not want to let me graduate. I didn't care because all I needed was to pass a state test to get a high school diploma and still go to college. Thank goodness the Headmaster Father John (an ex-English Navy boxer) convinced the other fathers that I had put in a good 5 3/4 years and that the last 2 months should not jeopardize my life. I promised Fr. John that I would try to behave. Out of a class of 22 seniors, I graduated 22nd. Terry McCartin and Charlie Peters are now lawyers, Sam Blick is a doctor, and Steve Catellan is an engineer.

Chapter 3: THE AMERICAN DREAM

While in the 2nd grade, my older brother won a Pepsi-Cola contest. He guessed correctly the number of beans in a jar at a Co-Op Super Market. We won 15 minutes of free shopping. The 10 brothers and sisters (4 were not in the D.C. area at the time) and my parents grabbed $11,000 worth of groceries in 15 minutes. In 1995 money that is close to $60,000. We gave the groceries back to the store and took the check. My dad bought a new house in the Virginia suburbs called McLean. We were now into the full American dream.

Our house was always open. There would be several neighborhood kids walking through. My dad came home from work one night and saw three kids watching T.V. in our living-room. He declared, "Are you my children? I don't remember you. What are your names?" They said that their parents did not allow them to watch T.V. at their house. Only guests were allowed in their living-rooms. Like always he let them stay.

The milkman would come twice a week and walk right into our home. He would make room in the refrigerator and load it up with milk. My little brother Fred and I would sneak into his truck and take a box of donuts while he was in our house delivering. The dry cleaner man would walk into our house and take the clothes out of our living room closet and deposit the clean clothes with the receipt of course. Our front and back doors were always open. I have the best memories living in McLean, Virginia. The neighborhood kids would play kick-the-can and multiply tag.

We had a Suarez tradition of the neighborhood paper route for the Washington Post. It started with Xavier and quickly got passed down to Charlie, Mel, me and lastly Fred. Our neighborhood had plenty of federal government workers including the Pentagon and these men wanted their paper no later that 5:30 a.m.. Tough time for teenage kids who normally went to bed at 11 or 12 a.m..

One time Mel was out of town and forgot to ask someone to deliver the papers, He called me and did not know the houses so he said just drop one off at every other house and you will be about 50% correct.

[ Having played basketball all my life and gone to camps all up and down the east coast, I know that 50 % of close games won on the last shot result from a rebounded missed shot. I quickly flashbacked to N.C. State winning the NCAA national championship title on a rebounded last shot in the early 1980's and coach Jim Valvano running up and down the court looking for a player to hug.

I had drilled that concept into my players since preseason. The key was to get the inside position which the opponents would let you have since they did not want you to post them up inside. The second thing to remember was to shoot the ball with 3 or 2 seconds left on the clock so that the rebound and put back would count.]

Many times we would oversleep and wake up late and get everyone's help in delivering the papers quickly. Once in a while the papers got wet. By this time the customers knew our family and our phone number. My mother was drying the papers everywhere possible. She told one of the customers, "the paper in the oven is almost done. We'll get it to you very soon."

One Christmas it snowed so hard that the paper truck could not get through. So we had to deliver three days worth at the same time. My short sister and godmother, Margarita, walked into a snow drift and disappeared. All we could hear were cries for help and finally saw a waving hand.

[ When I first came to Berkeley, I was concerned by the physical fitness of our players. they looked like they had watched too much T.V. and read books all summer. The second head coach at Berkeley since I arrived and my close friend, Steve Kitchens, and I decided that as soon as school started these poor boys were going to have to hit the weights and track. The only way to win in December was to get ready in September. Of course our second goal for the following year was summer camps. I could see that this pre-season conditioning had helped our team because the starters looked fresh and ready to win.

Rebounding was always my special talent. When I was playing in college, we had two seven-footers on the team but I always got more rebounds then they. When I played in the D.C. playgrounds, the players would say, "hey, you jump like one of the brothers!" To this day I am convinced that my jumping abilities came from three years of carrying the Washington Post. On Sundays one paper weight about five pounds. I would carry about 20 at a time. Any child that does that in their growing years will jump out of the gym. I had taught that to my players and made them do daily toe raises before practice.]

I had two very close friends: Richard Strong who is now a forest ranger in Utah and Vinny D'Agostino who still lives in D.C.. We would play a board game RISK non-stop for 48 hours. We were always organizing games like capture the flag and flag football. Richard was into chemistry. He was stirring sugar and warming it up until it becomes an explosive. Sure enough we heard a big bang. Richard came in with his glasses all crooked and shirt with burn holes. That was a sight. He also made lead pipe bombs that were very dangerous.

One night my friends dared me to throw a 10 cent water balloon at a car. There was the normal 15 to 20 kids standing around. I threw a beautiful shot and hit the car right on the front windshield. The car swerved and barely missed a telephone pole. Everyone took off running.

The man got out and started chasing the tall skinny boy, me. I had so much adrenaline that I jumped and cleared the neighborhood fence in one jump. I heard a man give out a high screech and I turned around and saw that he did not clear the fence. He had, in fact, only gotten one leg over the fence and landed on what we call his "gogones." Of course by the time I got home the man was in my living room with my dad waiting for me. I always got caught, everyone knew the tall skinny Cuban.

Another time we were all mad at this man who had twisted my brother's hand behind his back because we had cut through his yard on the way to the ball fields. Everyone knew we were going to get him back. The normal gang of 15 or 20 kids were watching my brother Mel light a M-80 (1/4 stick of dynamite). Mel could not do it by himself so I went up to help. I held the M-80 while he lit it. It started and I asked, "So what I do with it?" He said, "throw it!" I threw it onto the front porch. Everyone ran for their life. A small group stuck together. Nothing. A dud. All of a sudden, BANG! Louder than you could image. We were all amazed. The man came out his house and had a shotgun. He got in his car and came after us. We ran like hell across a field scared to death and we could see his headlights go up in the air as his car jumped the curb. We knew we were in trouble. Everyone split up in different directions. My younger brother Fred got tired and hid behind a wall by the school. Mel and I took off and got away. We waited an hour before going home. Sure enough when we got there, there was the man with Fred and our dad. We were caught again.

Apparently the man had caught Fred and put him in the car and told him we were all going to jail. Fred sang like a canary. We had to buy the man a new front door and paint his entrance way. But it was worth it. I always thank God that no one was standing behind that door because they would have gotten seriously hurt from the flying splinters.

I had many jobs while growing up. Cutting lawns in the neighborhood, washing cars, working for rich families who lived near Robert Kennedy, and working at gas stations. I was working at one in McLean and the favorite trick was to give truck drivers wrong directions. We would get them on the off ramp to Dullas Airport. Once on this ramp it was 10-15 miles there and another 10-15 miles back. One day a truck driver came back and had a crow bar in his hand. The worker who gave him the wrong directions hid in the bathroom. We buzzed for the police. The driver saw the man run into the bathroom and followed him. He started banging the door down with the crow bar. Thank God the police got there in time. When we finally opened the door this poor man was drenched in sweat and had gone to the bathroom in his pants. We all learned a valuable lesson that day.

I got my friend Vinny D'Agostino a job at this same gas station. One day Vinny came to work on his dirt bike. He was popping wheelies and showing off. We were all sitting in the waiting room that had glass walls so you could see the cars drive up, Vinny came right at us and popped a wheely. Unfortunately the bike slipped on an oil spot and came crashing into that waiting room. We all dove for the door. There was glass flying and the motorcycle rotating out of control on the floor knocking over chairs and a coffee table. After Vinny got stitched up, we spent the entire night watching over the station until the glass wall could be replaced.

(I will need to come back here to put in more stories. Bill Hamm's gas station.)

One time a customer asked me where my head was. I pointed to my head and said, "right here, sir." He said, "no, your head!" I said, "I think it's right here." He said, "no, your shit hole." (Head was a military term for bathroom.)

I once pumped 20 gallons of gas into a man's car that had only a 15 gallon capacity. The man accused me of stealing 5 gallons and trying to charge him. The manager could not figure it out. He asked the customer to open the trunk of his car. Sure enough five gallons spilled into the trunk. This was a very important lesson. No matter how things look, there might be a good explanation.

[ I always found out in coaching that the players always had a good idea when they did something stupid on the court. Like calling a time out at the end of first half to set a last second shot. They had seen that on T.V. where the NBA have many time outs to burn. Not so in high school. You save the time outs for the very end of the game. They showed they had learn this lesson because we had saved that last time out to set up this last play.]

I worked at a 24 hour station and one night a man in a nice tux came walking up and asked for gas. I told him that our five gallon container had not been returned. He pulled a plastic gallon jug out of the trash and said fill this up. I said the law does not allow us to pour gas into a plastic container. He pulled out a little gun. I said I have to go ask the manager (no one was there except me). I went into the office, locked the door, pressed the police button, and I got under the desk and prayed it was bullet proof. I do not remember hearing the sirens but the next thing I know the cops are at my door and asking me to come out. They asked why I had pressed the button and I told them about the man in a tux with a gun. They found him and brought him back and wanted me to press charges. I would not because I knew he was just desperate after walking several miles. The police did charge him with concealed weapon.

There are a lot of great memories about the McLean house. We use to play "wolf". My brother Charlie would blindfold himself and we had to tie our shoes together and hop around. All the lights would be turned off and the wolf would try to capture you. If you got caught, you would have to go to jail, the bathroom. We would have great jail breaks and trample Charlie as we hopped down the hallway. One time Mel was on top of these shelves and the entire structure collapsed. No one stopped playing, we all just hopped around the mess.

My dad liked to work on cars. One year Mel took a car apart and left for college before putting it back together. The downstairs playroom had a million parts all spread out. I spent the fall trying to help my dad put the car back together. Another time a transformer exploded on the electric telephone poles. Our neighbor came running over because he thought the car had blown up on dad. My dad would smoke a cigar while working on the cars. One time the engine caught on fire. He was trying to put it out with a blanket and that caught on fire. I ran in the house an grabbed a box of detergent and pour it all over the place. I thought I had saved the day only to get yelled at for putting soap all over the engine.

We had motorcycles. Fred and I once took Xavier's bike without his permission. We were riding it all over the fields. The next thing I knew we were airborn. Fred went flying and landed on his butt. I stayed with the bike and racked my balls. I learned another important lesson about checking out the terrain before riding all over it.

[ I have watched many films of basketball games. I'm always especially intrigued about last seconds games won on the last shot. I always knew that some day this homework would pay off in a real situation.]

One time I was riding another bike and I got pulled over. The officer was really nice until he realized that I had broken many laws including: too young to have a driver's license, we had painted 1968 over the 1966 year on the license plate, I was speeding, the inspection sticker of course was expired, I had no helmet on, and the list goes on. I've always said that I was lucky we were in the suburbs because the police officers would always just take us home rather than book us.

Chapter 2: COMING TO AMERICA

My father was able to find work in Washington D.C. working for Catholic University as an engineering professor. He earned his B.S. at Villanova University in Pennsylvania. We moved into a two bedroom apartment just outside the D.C. city line. At this time there were only eight children living at home. The two oldest children were at a convent and seminary. Three were staying with family friends in other parts of the country and one was still in Cuba, not allowed to leave because of her political views. We had five boys in one room and three girls in the other. My parents slept in the living room using a fold out bed. We had one bathroom. Many times I had to piss in the kitchen sink because one of the sisters was using the bathroom and I could not hold it any longer. The management only allowed two children per apartment so we had to share the pass for the swimming pool. Two would enter and then pass the card through the fence to the next pair.

This is where I had my first accident. I borrowed a bike from a friend. I did not know how to ride yet, so I started at the top of the hill on a street. Sure enough, I landed in a ambulance being rushed to the hospital. I still have a scar on my face from that and the doctor had to skin-graft some skin onto my knee. This was to be the first of many trips to the hospital. My nick name was changing from "pollo flaco" to "wild pony".

The first day of school, St. John's, my dad dropped me off on the way to work. I did not know any English so I sat on the school steps and watched. The very first thing the nuns did was to tell me to spit out my gum. I knew I wasn't going to like school. I memorized the route from school to home. And I ran away from school many times that first year. The nuns would send the patrol boys after me but I out ran them home. By the time they showed up at the door, my mom would say, leave him alone; he doesn't have to go to school if he doesn't want to. Even though I was only five, I had to attend 1st grade because the school did not have a kindergarten, plus I knew no English.

At Easter the older students hid eggs and baby chickens around the campus. The first graders were allowed to hunt for them. I found over 20 eggs and 3 chicks. The nuns told me I had to share with the cry babies that found none. I did not like this concept and ran home. By now my older brothers had joined me at St. John's. So now rather then the patrol boys, they would send my brothers after me. I beat them home too. My brothers got smart after a while and pretended to follow me home but they would just tell the nuns that my mother told them I could stay home.

At the end of the school year, I was so excited because at graduation I got a "2" thinking I was going onto 2nd grade. But all it meant was level 2 of 1st grade. There were three levels of each grade.

Things got better when my father bought our first house in Hysteville, Md. It had five bedroom and a real neighborhood. After two years in first grade, I started 2nd grade at Lady of Sorrows. A much nicer school and my little brother Fred joined me.

One day we were suppose to memorize the Our Father and I told the teacher I knew it but I did not. We were told to go outside in the hallway and one by one to recite it for the class. I prayed so hard that something would happen. The girl in front of me puked and I was saved. That was my first lesson in the power of prayer.

I got into my first real fight. I had the boy in a headlock. The teacher pulled me off and when I looked at the boy his face was completely blue. I prayed very hard and promised never to fight again. I have always been able to talk myself out of fights since then, except for a few exceptions.

[ I had coached this team well. We knew how to play hard. Any player that ever threw a punch knew that he would not play for me. I looked into their eyes and they were all waiting for the last great play. They knew I had one and that it would work. I looked around and caught the other team huddled around their coach. I caught the eye of the score keeper. I knew that he would give me a few extra seconds during this time out. I could trust him to know the rules and not to start the clock until the ball touched my player's hand. I saw the Headmaster and Athletic Director standing behind the bench smiling. They also knew I had a play. They had watched me grow and mature over the years. The losing years as well as the winning years. Sometimes I loved and enjoyed the losing teams more than the winning teams. Those players needed me more.]

In 5th grade, I fought my best friend Richard Strong by a creek over a neighborhood girl named Beverly Holmes . She was the first one to tell me girls had three holes and I argued with her that I had eight older sisters and they only had two holes. Today, I have forty-eight nephews and nieces to prove me wrong. She wanted to marry me but I told her I couldn't because I was Catholic and she was only a Christian. Well I threw him into the water three times and he would not quit. Beverly walked away with Richard consoling him and I stood there triumphantly but with no girl. Again I learned fighting was not the right way. Win or lose.

In 9th grade, I again fought my best friend Sam Blick. Actually we were boxing with gloves. Every year we had an arm wrestling contest in front of all our friends and I would beat him. So we were boxing for fun and he caught me with a rabbit punch on the back of the neck. I don't remember much after that except my other friends told me that Sam hit me two or three extra times as I was falling to the ground. Twenty years later Sam and I are still good friends and he invites me to see Orlando Magic basketball games and I invite him to see the Tampa Bay Bucs football games.

Chapter 1: CUBA

[The gym is packed.

We are down by one.

There are two seconds left on the clock.

We call our last time out.]

The boat is packed. Castro has taken over Cuba. There is one sister we must leave behind. We arrive in Miami.

After the Bay of Pigs, my father, Manuel Antonio Suarez-Carreno, decided to get his family out of the country; no small task since he had 14 children. His motto was "God, family, country."

I was five years old and it was a Saturday. My sister, Maria, and I had decided to walk to Villanova University across the street from our house to use one of those new fancy coke machines that had just arrived from the United States. A coke was only 5 cents. On the way home, we encounted some militia men with beards and guns. We ran home crying only to find my father and older sisters flushing anti-Castro propaganda down the toilet and burning more stuff in the fire pit in our back yard. Castro had led the revolution against Batista's military dictatorship but once in power Castro turned to Russia for money and arms and in returned declared himself a communist.

That afternoon they came to our house and took my father away to prison. For what crime? For political reasons. A dictator's way to take over a country is to start by putting all its leaders in jail. They also took three of my older sisters.

My mother, Eloise Suarez-Gaston, was pregnant with her 15th child. She had a miscarriage and was very weak. They let my father take a twelve hour leave to visit her in the hospital. While out, he eluded his guards and escaped to America in a meat boat. When the border patrol searched the boat, he hid in a freezer. Dead or alive, he thought he would never see his family again.

Once in the United States, my father began to plan our departure from Cuba. By bribing the Cuban officials and leaving two sugar mills, a farm, and beautiful house in Havana, and through the intercession of the wife of the Brazilian Ambassador to Cuba, they allowed my mother, the six youngest children ages 4-12 and some older sisters to board a ferry to Miami. Twice we were told to go down to the docks. Thousands of people were all trying to get on the boat. Both times we walked back home disappointed. The third time we got on. Freedom!!

We arrived in this country with nothing except the clothes on our backs. Through the generosity of many Cuban friends who had fled the country before Castro's take-over, we were housed in many different homes.

I'll never forget being invited to eat dinner and my older brother saying no thanks because he was too proud to accept a handout. I remember starving. My mom called me "pollo flaco" (skinny chicken). That is why to this day, I can not throw away good food, and I get nervous when there is no food in the refrigerator.