Betting On Black: The 3 Best Friends That Anyone Could Have

I was born into having a best friend who is my brother George, and then my neighbors who aren’t friends but brothers Jamel and Peyton (see the previous Four Brothers column for that story). 

I want to talk about my actual best/longest friends Karl Kelly and DJ Powlish. Before I met them, I went to the JCC for preschool, the JCC means the Jewish Community Center. I was the only non-Jewish person there, but who cares, it is a preschool. While I was there, from what I remember, I had a “best friend” and his name was Ben. If Ben is reading this and remembers this, what’s up, dude? How’s life? 

My journey with my two longest, best friends started in first grade with Karl. There was a competition within our 1st grade Incarnation class. You had to dress the same as another person in class. The day came when you had to pick a partner, and no one picked me. I felt like the kid in gym class who got picked last. I knew just about everyone in the class because I went to kindergarten with all of these people the year prior, except one kid. This kid came into Incarnation from the Lanning school, and I remember vividly saying, “he’s a weird kid,” and I don’t want to be around that dude. That “weird” brown haired dude and I were the only two kids without partners. Darn it, I get the “weird“ kid! We were the bad kids in class, so no one wanted to partner with us. He came right up to me and said, “I guess it’s just us two.” He then said these words that we still say to each other 33 years later. “Hey, we should be ninjas.” 

There was no other option, and he was super serious, so we became ninjas! Of course, with the help of his dad. We didn’t win best costume. Hell, we didn’t even place. That’s not the point. I just gained my best friend who has been with me for my entire life. Karl played baseball, and he was really good at it. I played soccer, and I was decent. I joined a travel soccer team when I was in 4th grade called the Rebels, but it didn’t work out because I was younger, smaller, and timid, so I joined the team that was younger, called West End United, and where the kids were actually my age. Every kid on the team went to a different school from me, so I was basically the oddball. The coaches of the team were Mike Stanzione and Justin Burroughs. They saw something in me that I never saw and put me in the sweeper position. If you don’t know soccer, the sweeper is the eyes and ears of the team. It all starts with the sweeper. My confidence grew at this point. My mom had become the team manager, and her co-manager was another teammate's mom. That teammate was DJ. We joined a league in South Jersey, and our travel time was over an hour for each away game. I didn’t think I was popular on the team until half the team wanted to drive in my mom’s van to the away games. My mom is in the driver's seat blasting my favorite music: Biggie, Nas, and Lost Boyz. My mom loved it, but she needed help. My teammate DJ’s mom jumped into the passenger seat to help with directions, and DJ hopped in the van. 

From that moment on, DJ became my best friend. Wait, don’t forget about my other best friend, Karl. How weird is this? Karl and DJ have been good friends since they were about five years old when they played T-ball together. This whole time, I thought I brought this whole trio together. Well, I still kinda did. Back to the story. They both grew up from being five years old and went to different schools, and we all know what happened. You hang out with the people at your school. 

Fast forward to after high school, these two dudes both joined the Army and have become best friends with each other again. Karl and I were in DJ’s wedding, and DJ and Karl were in my wedding. I’m so proud that we have stuck together through everything. Even though you both lit me on fire when we were 13. Another story for another day. Marriage, babies, career changes, and the death of my mom. These two MEN were the first to reach out and show up for me. They both will hate this column because they don’t like this lovey-dovey stuff. I mean, they ARE military guys. I was always the softie of the three. I love these guys and I’m not afraid to admit it. I called them both before writing this column to ask for their input, and I got the same response from both of them: “Really, bro?” My bad, fellas. They called my mom their mom, and I do the same with their moms. I know they took it hard when “our” mom died, but we all stuck together like we have our whole lives. I know you both hate recognition, but I sincerely love you both!