By Vince Alexander
My high school—Fort Wayne Wayne High School—isn’t well known
in these parts of Indianapolis.That is until now.
It was recently announced that Albert Gooden, one of the most popular people from my graduating class of 1977, will be the new head boys’ basketball coach at Lawrence Central High School. The announcement was made on the school’s website.
Gooden is my homeboy. My homie.
For people like me who grew up with him, he is “Big Al.” At Wayne, he was a huge teenager at about 6-feet-5 and about 230 points. He teamed with former Purdue star Roosevelt Barnes and 6-10 Steve Bates to form one of the best high school basketball teams to never win a state title. Of course, that was “back in the day” when it was single-class basketball. It was a time when winning a state championship meant you had to take on all teams—big and small.
Today everybody seems to get a trophy.
If you like “old school,” you will love “Big Al.” We grew up in a very humble environment, and we developed a thick skin. Most of us had nicknames.
“Big Al” knows me as “Puma.” My brother, who played basketball with “Big Al” was “Pumas.” We were separated by the “s.” How did we get those names? I don’t know. We just accepted our fate and tried to make the best of it.
I don’t know if “Big Al” remembers, but forced busing was one of the things that African Americans like “Big Al” and I had to accept. We grew up in a predominantly black neighbor in south central Fort Wayne. Wayne High School is located in the cornfields on the far south side of Fort Wayne in a suburb called Waynedale. In order to integrate Wayne, which was a freshly built new school at the time, black students were forced to take the long bus ride to Wayne.
I can’t speak for “Big Al,” but it was quite the culture shock for a young, urban black teenager to find himself going to a school surrounded by nothing by cornfields. In contrast, some whites had never had to share a classroom with an African American.
However, basketball brought everyone together. Led by “Big Al,” Wayne won a lot of games. Al was a starter as a sophomore. He was great at scoring in the post, and he was great at hitting mid-range jump shots. Of course, he was a beast on the boards.
He went on to play basketball at Ball State.
Despite Big Al’s success, he was always quiet. He’s not the kind of person who seeks attention or is “the life of the party.”
He’s just “Big Al.”
As a basketball coach, whatever rage he held inside, he allowed his basketball players to release it. I witnessed it firsthand when I was the high school sports editor of Fort Wayne’s Journal Gazette newspaper between 1990 and 1996. At that time, his teams would attack opponents full court for the entire game. They just attacked, and he’d play nine, 10, and 11 players in a game because they spent so much energy getting steals and coast-to-coast layups. His teams turned 10-point deficits into 20-point victories. It was probably similar to playing in 90-degree heat at McMillen Park or Weisser Park in Fort Wayne; find a way to score or you’ll be on the sidelines watching.
As a player, “Big Al” was never on the sidelines, and I’m glad to hear that he has been successful.
In fact, I teach at Belzer Middle School, and he will be coaching and teaching across the street at Lawrence Central. When we see each other, there won’t be a lot of talking. But there will be a big hand shake, a few questions about my brother, Wes (Pumas), and it will end with head nod.
Simple gestures.
Major accomplishments.
That’s “Big Al.”
