Compton, Always Knew I’d See Ye Again

It was the greatest return since Milla Jovovich took Brooke Shields’ spot in The Blue Lagoon, I’m tellin ya. After a 14 year hiatus, I finally made my long awaited return to the city of Compton. Yes, the FBI’s 17th most dangerous city in America has been missing me like the deserts miss the rains. Ice Cube was going to join Mayor Eric Perrodin in my welcoming ceremony, but he didn’t want to risk endorsing recent gentrification efforts.

Let’s face it, 17th most dangerous city or not, modern Compton is less Straight Outta Compton and more Straight Into IHOP. Don’t get me wrong, the place is still a shithole, but at least they’ve dotted it with a couple Coffee Beans and updated the signage at the Burger Kings. When a brazen young fellow named Griffith D. Compton settled the territory in 1867, could he have imagined that one day that the city he founded due to its mild climate would be  exploited as the epicenter of the gangster rap movement only to follow its grunge counterpart, Seattle, into the dust-bin of pop culture folklore? I say yes.

My fond memories of Compton stem from a trip down to the C-O-M-P-T-O-N for a mid-season Ocean League showdown between Beverly Hills High School and Compton Centennial. I’ve yet to comment on my JV high school football team, but they were without question the biggest set of characters this universe has ever seen. They make the North Dalls Forty look like the St. Thomas Aquinas Seminary choir girls. If you could bottle the pizazz of the 1995 Beverly Hills High School JV Football Team, you could ween Western Civilization off Middle Eastern oil by next Thursday. There’s no way I could do them justice in this post, so I’ll just give you this one anecdote. Don’t worry, they’ll be popping up from time to time.

Anyways, our band of misfits took the athletic privilege of getting Thursdays off to cruise down the 605 freeway to Compton’s home field just after lunch. While we were waiting to line up for stretching drills, a group of players (me not included) headed off to use the little boy’s room. An inner city high school would be nothing without a group of truants playing dominoes in front of the bathroom, so like clockwork, our 7 gridiron greats approached the N.W.A. sympathizers, trying to scoot past them to relieve themselves. When the truants told them they’d get their asses kicked, the players all turned away and went back to the field. All except Rodney Ohebsion, who just happened to be the only one wearing a helmet. Rodney seems to have bottled the triumphant experience because he is now the author of self-help guides and success manuals. His forthcoming book, “Mind Over Matter: How To Overcome the Odds and Take A Piss in Compton”, will be published by Random House this Fall.

When the players returned, they relayed their tale of woe to our coach, Bill “No Not That Hand! Your Right Hand! The Hand You Have Sex With!” Erickson. Coach Erickson then channeled Vince Lombardi and gave his most stirring pronouncement since his “If You Ain’t Cheating, You Ain’ Trying” speech: “What the f**k is this? IT IS YOUR RIGHT AS A MAN, TO TAKE A PISS WHENEVER AND WHEREVER YOU WANT! Now give me 5 laps.”

A lesson not easily forgotten. In a city not easily forgotten. Compton, here is to you. Eric Wright, take it away.