The Importance of Sports in Prison

It was over fourteen years ago when I stepped on a Level-Four Maximum Security prison yard. Beneath the relentless sun, it was a sweltering one-hundred-ten degrees, and hundreds of inmates traversed a patch of scorched dirt the size of a football field. Dozens of guys flocked toward picnic tables to join card players; others worked out on pull-up bars, and a few loners walked about aimlessly and enjoyed the sun’s warmth.

Ahead, a basketball goal mounted a slab of dusty concrete. A second goal rested opposite of it; but that side of the court was forbidden to me and anyone else who shared my ethnicity. One side was strictly for Blacks, the other, for Latinos and whites. The inmate-imposed segregation reminded me of a scene from the pre-civil rights era. On the “Blacks Only” court, I glanced toward its rustic rim and gray strands of what used to be a net. Twenty feet from it, a brown-skinned guy scooped an orange ball off the ground before shooting toward the goal. The ball sailed and clunked off the rim before rolling toward me. I took the dusty ball in my hands and my fingers immediately pressed into the soft rubber. Among different ethnicities and hundreds of inmates, we had only one ball to share between us. Because of segregation, we had to take turns using the ball, and it was flat and lifeless, but not as deflated as my spirit.

In prison, for some inmates, outdoor sports offer reprieve from our monotonous life in a ten-by-fifteen foot cell. For others, it’s a rejuvenating form of exercise. Spectators view it as entertainment. But for most in prison, sports correspond to the conduct that got us there. Let me explain what I mean.

After a few years at that Level-Four Maximum Security prison, I was rewarded for my good behavior, earned a lower security score, and was allowed to transfer to a Level Three Medium Security prison. My conduct opened the door for more autonomy and privileges.

When I arrived at the Level Three yard, it took my eyes several seconds to adjust to the new terrain. The yard was covered in a strange carpet of emerald green. It was grass!

Between the county jail and prison, I hadn’t realized how long it had been since I’d seen grass. Hundreds of inmates scattered over the fresh green blades. I inhaled deeply while my nostrils took in the grass’s scent. Seconds later, a metallic clink reached my ears. I turned toward the noise. In the distance, a dozen inmates spread over a baseball diamond. At home plate, an inmate swung a metal bat with all his might. I froze and the breath in my lungs seemed to escape.

Back when I was on the Maximum Security yard, where violent riots seemed to erupt monthly, I couldn’t imagine the prison staff giving the inmate population a metal bat. It was practically a weapon! But on the Medium Security yard’s baseball diamond. Blacks, Whites, Latinos, Asians, and Pacific Islanders all came together, and instead of swinging bats at each other, they used them to play a game of softball. I quickly joined a team, and soon after, time and even the weeks seemed to fly by.

After several years, I was rewarded for my good behavior again, and this time I was allowed to transfer to a Level Two Medium Security prison. Now, I’ve been here for six years and there are more sports activities than I ever imagined in a prison: basketball tournaments, softball leagues, volleyball games, a tennis court, horseshoes, soccer, football. There’s organized games played at morning and noon, and practices at night. Teams design their own uniforms with their name and number on it.

We even have a sports show that’s filmed by the prison’s media center and hosted by a pair of inmates. The hosts hilariously bicker over everything from professional sports to prison leagues, and the show airs on TV’s throughout the institution. One episode, I appeared as a guest and debated football for an hour. We even have a gymnasium for indoor sports. Inside the gym, colorful murals of our favorite teams and champions pave the walls—the Dodgers, Angels, Lakers, Warriors, Raiders, and more.

Occasionally, when in my cell, I’ll see an interview on CBS or FOX, where a professional athlete expresses gratitude for being able to play the game they love so much. Similarly, when I step on the prison yard, surrounded by hundreds of my colleagues who’re playing a variety of games for exercise, entertainment, and pure fun. I’m thankful for sports, but far more grateful for the privilege to play them.

Ramelle Kamack #AA-1281

CTF Facility C 

PO Box 689

Soledad, CA 93960

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