Chapter Thirty-Two

Chingasos, Trancazos y Balazos (Fights, Fisticuffs, and Gunshots) on the West Side

In between middle school and my freshman year of high school, a very large chuck of students began a large and ongoing migration to the other side of town. Many of them relocated near Coronado High School in a significantly more affluent part of El Paso. Not all, but a majority of those students and their families were not Hispanic. Many of them left suddenly or without much notice nor fanfare.

It was noticed by everyone who was left behind in and around Chivas Town, but not discussed much at all. The impact was not obvious until there was increasing bad blood that erupted more and more often at each sporting event between the two schools. Regularly, taunting and arguments erupted particularly when the victory on one side or the other was obvious. The tension and heatedness increased with each event.

By the time, our senior year unfolded, it seemed inevitable that a “rumble” was just around the corner. The football game and its aftermath between the schools that season was particularly hostile, but no police intervention was required. It was clear that something bad was just around the corner. The first basketball game, which we won, was held on the Coronado campus at their state-of-the-art gymnasium. After the game, just down the street many of the students from both schools congregated at the local hamburger joint near their campus.

Quite a nice place, the hamburger joint was symbolic of the social, ethic and class differences between the two schools as well as the two areas of town. Perhaps our victory along with our invasion of their local watering hole was too much for each school to ignore. While our team went home safely on the bus, a huge near riot occurred between the students from each school. As things escalated quickly. Police were called and it took some time for the area to be secured. Fueled by our students and fans taunting their students and fans, it was only natural for them to retaliate on their turf.

I did not hear about it until the next day, but it was quite a story. Though no one was hospitalized or arrested, it was a scandal and a blemish for both schools. Rumors of gunshots abounded.

The return match between the two schools was two or three weeks away, but the superintendent of schools ruled that the game would be played without spectators, to reduce the risk of a second confrontation.

It was only then that it became clear that the feelings of abandonment and resentment of our students had been bottled up for years.

Our team had always relied on our vociferous fans to help us win, particularly at our home gymnasium. Coach Goodwin was quite concerned about our reaction and adjustment to playing without a packed gym of our fans. He talked to us as much about that as he did about the game strategy. In fact, he pointed out that we should be aware of the relative silence of our practices in comparison to the game noise. But he also pointed out that if we think of this game as a pre-season scrimmage, we could more quickly adapt to the lack of noise. By comparison, we could use the atmosphere to talk more and communicate more in this game: even as much or more than in our practice sessions. In that way we could take full advantage of the unusual game conditions.

The days leading up to the rematch with Coronado were tense. The news of the altercation at the hamburger joint had spread like wildfire through both schools, fueling even more animosity between us. But amidst all the turmoil, I couldn't shake off the feeling of unease in my gut. It wasn't just about the upcoming game; there was something deeper at play here, something that went beyond just a sports rivalry.

As we took to the court for the rematch, I could sense the tension in the air crackling like electricity. The lack of spectators only seemed to amplify it, making every play feel more intense, more crucial. We knew that this game wasn't just about winning the district championship anymore; it was about proving something to ourselves, to each other, to our opponents and to our community.

The match was fierce from the start, with both teams playing their hearts out. The absence of the cheering crowd made every move echo louder in the gym, adding a sense of raw intensity to the game. We communicated with each other more than ever, relying on our unity and trust in one another to guide us through the match.

Our unique preparation for the game helped us as we easily won the game and continued our quest for the district championship.

As we walked off the court after our victory in the silent gym, I couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions swirling inside me. The absence of the cheering crowd felt eerie, almost like a piece of our game was missing. But Coach Goodwin was right - we needed to adapt to these unusual circumstances if we wanted to keep winning.

Our victory in the game played without spectators was bittersweet for the team. While we would celebrate the win, there was an underlying feeling of emptiness without the familiar roar of their fans in the stands. Coach Goodwin gathered the team in the locker room after the game to address this mix of emotions.

"Listen up, boys," Coach Goodwin began, his voice firm but reassuring. "I know it felt strange out there tonight, playing in silence. But you showed incredible mental strength and focus. That's what sets us apart from the rest of our opponents."

The team looked at each other, nodding in agreement. We knew that their strength didn't just come from the cheers of the crowd, but from our own unity and determination.

"We might not have had our fans with us tonight, but we had each other," Coach Goodwin continued. "And that's what's going to carry us through whatever comes next."