Winnetonka’s Jobe rises up from tragedy

I t’s three days into Winnetonka High School’s football practice last summer and, finally, his position coach learns the new kid’s first name — Darrell. Until then, the mystery running back is simply known as Jobe.

Two weeks into the football season and the student body is wondering about this player who is running for a 57-yard touchdown. They are buzzing about how he runs up on a teammate who is blocking a defensive back, and about how he soars over both players, momentarily riding atop the defender’s shoulders before landing feet first and continuing to the end zone.

That flashy touchdown is just one of 23 Darrell Jobe has rushed for this season — all this from a guy who simply shows up one day unannounced. The first fact that trickles out is that he is a transfer from Central High School.

Around the Winnetonka hallways, the early rap is that Darrell is quiet, shy, and the star of the football team. He is a humble kid who answers yes-sir and no-sir.

Still, so many wonder … Why is he here?

“I’ve never really spoken to him about it,” Griffins coach Ken Clemens says a few weeks into the season, “and I don’t think everybody knows.”

What so many don’t know is there’s a specific reason Darrell points to the sky after he scores a touchdown. They have no idea that Darrell feels as if his big brother is watching. They, hopefully, will never comprehend what Darrell wishes he could forget during that day last summer when he saw his brother’s blood spill onto the front porch. The flashbacks to the gunfire, the ambulance sirens, the yellow police tape fencing in his once-peaceful home — it all stills haunts Darrell.

No, Darrell did not come to Winnetonka as another inner city player looking for a scholarship and the spotlight. Darrell came to this new school to find peace.

“We had to escape for our lives,” he says.

•••

Home was always a safe harbor for Darrell and his family, until last summer, when tragedy found his doorstep.

Make no mistake, Darrell’s mother, Willetta Curtis, struggled at times. She was a single mom stretching a paycheck across six kids — three boys and three girls. Still, the family felt as if they were blessed.

Darrell, the youngest, felt especially close to his brother, who was three years older. The family would rather keep his name private, but Darrell still loves to reminisce about their bond.

As kids, they put on talent shows for their mom, including Darrell and his brother singing and dancing to Jackson 5 songs. Darrell would pull up his black slacks and pretend to be Michael. Back then, an old school classic took the family away from the troubles on Kansas City’s east side.

They lived on a block in the 64127 zip code — which The Kansas City Star dubbed the “Murder Factory” in a three-part series earlier this year detailing the cycle of poverty and violence in the area. Because of that, Darrell would often walk his older sisters two blocks to the corner store.

“Nothing can tear us apart,” Darrell says, of his family’s unity.

One evening last August, the house was full of activity. Darrell simply wanted to relax and watch the Chiefs on television. It was Saturday, two days before the start of his junior year at Central and days from the Blue Eagles’ football opener.

Darrell, then 16, had been a starter at Central since his freshman year. Now, he was expected to be the team’s leader.

Central’s opener would be special because Darrell’s big brother promised to be there. He was the brother who taught Darrell to be tough, to not juke defenders, but instead run right through ’em. He didn’t make it to all of Darrell’s games, but when he came, he was loud and proud for his baby brother.

Darrell and his brother were at the house that summer night. The brother stepped outside, and Darrell got comfortable in front of the television.

Early in the Chiefs’ game, Darrell was on the phone with his dad, Darrell Jobe Jr., who was giving his son the business about how bad the Chiefs were playing. Darrell just laughed. He had no way of knowing the danger that was creeping its way down his block.

Suddenly, Darrell heard gunfire.

“Hold on, Dad,” he said.

Several rounds popped. There was a pause. Darrell inched his way out of the bedroom. More gunshots followed. Darrell prayed: “God, please don’t let it be my brother.”

Bullets riddled the living room. Willetta screamed. She had been hit. So had his brother’s girlfriend. Smoke filled the small house. It was so thick that it seemed as if someone had cut off the lights.

Darrell squinted, stumbled around and looked for his mother. But he couldn’t see anything, until he looked down near the front door and saw his brother. Darrell panicked.

“Darrell,” his brother interrupted. “Call the police.”

His older sisters and neighbors had already dialed 911. Darrell felt helpless and angry. He turned back inside and flipped tables, busted glass and demolished several of his football trophies on shelves in the living room.

“Somebody that you love is laying there and not waking up, not breathing at all,” Darrell says. “That really hit me.”

•••

Am I next?

Darrell repeatedly asked himself that question.

“I could be dead and gone the next day, the next second,” Darrell says. “It scares me sometimes.”

That violent day, when his brother was pronounced dead, Darrell and his family abandoned their home. Later that night, Darrell could not fall asleep. He jumped at every little floorboard creak and leaky faucet. When he tried to close his eyes, the image of his dying brother haunted him. He cried, glanced out the window and looked to the sky.

“Can you see me? Can I see you?” Darrell asked his brother. “Can we meet one last time?”

When Darrell returned to Central two days later, teachers and students poured out their condolences. He heard the same question a thousand times: “Are you OK?”

Darrell said he was, but he was lying. He raged on the inside and wanted to unleash his anger. Football had always been his first love, but at Central’s season opener, Darrell had greater goals.

“I had built-up steam in me,” Darrell says. “I was thinking I’m going to get them on the field. I’m going to speak my mind on the field, let everybody know that I’m serious. That first game, I let it out.”

With a heavy heart, Darrell ran for 245 yards and four touchdowns in his team’s victory. He had no tears left the next day when it came time to view his brother’s body.

Darrell finished the season at Central with 1,551 rushing yards and 16 of the team’s 24 touchdowns. But he wanted out. He needed to get away from what was haunting him.

“I was just trying to make something out of my life,” Darrell says. “The city just wasn’t for me.”

•••

A cousin who attends Winnetonka suggested Darrell transfer. Willetta had always wanted better for her kids, but setbacks dashed those dreams. This time, she felt she had no choice.

“I wasn’t going to let anyone come in and hurt my kids anymore,” Willetta says.

Darrell told his Central coaches that he was leaving, and in June showed up to try out for the Winnetonka football team. Clemens, in his second season as head coach, knew his Griffins had a new star.

“You get scared as a coach when you watch him (play). He can decapitate a kid,” says Clemens, describing Darrell’s potential as a linebacker. “And of course — how stupid am I as a coach? — I’ve never seen anything like him on defense, and I don’t play him there.”

Against Park Hill South on Sept. 11, Winnetonka trailed 21-0 at halftime. But Darrell scored three second-half touchdowns and led the Griffins to a 28-24 victory.

The Griffins concluded their regular season with a 7-3 record; their best finish since 2001. Tonight, Winnetonka meets Park Hill South in a Missouri Class 5 playoff game at 7 p.m. Darrell has rushed for 2,071 yards in 233 carries. He’s responsible for more than half of the team’s touchdowns.

Still, he’s humble and gives all the credit to his offensive line and his coaches.

“He’s like manna from Heaven,” Clemens says. “I think it’s impossible not to like Darrell. He’s got a quiet soul about him, and he goes hard and it’s obvious to everybody around him that he deserves whatever success he gets.”

•••

It’s 7 a.m.

Classes at Winnetonka won’t begin for 20 minutes, and Darrell’s smiling as he walks past the Goth kids and a young man with a porcupine-spiked Mohawk.

“This is an interesting school for me,” he says with a laugh.

Darrell likes it here. The diversity at Winnetonka is a new experience, as is the school spirit and support. A headline in a recent student newspaper heralded Darrell’s feats: “Transfer leads football to 3-0.”

“It feels like I definitely fit in at Winnetonka,” Darrell says. “They opened their arms to me and invited me in. I really do feel accepted.”

Darrell’s tackling chemistry for the first time. Sometimes those lessons about precision versus accuracy take a little while to understand, but Darrell’s getting there.

“It feels like I’m playing catch-up,” he says. “It feels like a lot of people know more than what I know. I’m trying to give it my all.”

He left Central with a C average, and he needed several classes to be eligible to play NCAA football. He’s already worked up to a 2.8 GPA and was happy to give his transcripts to a Mizzou recruiter who recently visited practice.

“He’s more settled being here, and he is happier,” Willetta says. “I could see that he cares more than what he used to. … This young man has tried all he can to do what’s right.”

Since moving away, Darrell has not returned to his old neighborhood. He left a lot of pain on those city blocks. Today, the double-murder — Darrell’s brother and his brother’s girlfriend were killed in the shooting — remains unsolved.

The dreams still come and go. The last one Darrell remembers starts on a battlefield, where he and his brother are soldiers under attack. Bullets are flying around, and his brother steps in front and shields Darrell. This time, the bullets can’t hurt his big brother. Like he’s a super hero. It feels so real.

“I can feel him and touch him,” Darrell says. “He was telling me to ‘Go! Go! Go!’ To me, that message (says) that he’s protecting me. That he’s not going to let anything happen to me.”

These days, Darrell is doing exactly what his big brother is telling him.

Go! Go! Go!

“I’m not taking life for granted at all. Anybody else can party and do what they wanna do, take life for granted and play around with it, but you gotta just keep on going,” Darrell says. “Every day you’re stuck with a challenge, and my challenge is to survive. Every day.”

submitted by CANDACE BUCKNER - 2009-11-03 23:29:01

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