During my senior year at White Plains High School, the men's varsity basketball team won the state championship. Right in the middle of it all was my 6'3" friend and former teammate, Larry Warren, the basketball team's starting center. Last week, Larry found himself in the middle of something far more dangerous then a game against Mt. Vernon _ White Plains' arch-rival. When Sherif Wilson, another member of White Plains' 1999 championship squad became involved in a dispute with a man at local restaurant, Larry came to Sherif's defense. That decision ended up costing Larry his life.
I had not seen Larry since early in my college career when I bumped into him at the mall. We exchanged pleasantries and then each went our own way. You can imagine my disbelief when I read in The Journal News, a Westchester, New York newspaper, that Larry had been murdered early in the morning on Feb. 16. Larry was shot to death when he tried to intervene in the argument between Wilson and another man.
While Larry's murder was senseless, the circumstances surrounding his death were not shocking. Larry was the ultimate nice-guy, a great teammate. Therefore, it came as no surprise to me that Larry died trying to help out a friend.
I will always remember the time I was going to the bus stop to meet up with some kids who wanted to beat me up. I was scared out of my mind. Some of my friends showed up with me, but I was still petrified. I'm not sure how Larry heard about the looming fight or whether he just happened to be heading in the same direction at the right time, but he saved the day for me without throwing a punch. Larry simply hopped out of a car, stood there for a few seconds and then the kids scattered. He didn't say a word. It was simply his presence.
He had that same type of presence on the soccer field and on the basketball court. When we played soccer together in middle school, I always envied his foot. He played sweeper and when I would have to put everything into my kicks to get them to go anywhere, his kicks were so effortless and powerful. I remember how he toed the ball -- something coaches told us not to do. But, somehow it worked for him and even in the sixth grade he was a star.
After I stopped playing soccer, I was no longer in constant contact with Larry, but we were always friendly when we saw each other.
Then in high school, he was part of the big three that led the men's basketball team to the state championship. That team helped unify White Plains High School in a way I never dreamed possible. Everyone -- people of all different races, socioeconomic backgrounds, interests, even people who didn't care about sports -- jumped on the team's bandwagon.
I can remember how my friends and I would follow the basketball team as it made its way around the state playing games en route to winning the state crown.
I remember how we beat Mt. Vernon on our home court, with both sides of the bleachers down in front of about 500 people. Larry hit one of the biggest buckets of the game _ a prayer _ is what I called it in my article for the Orange, the White Plains High School newspaper. The ball slipped out of his hands, went ten feet into the air and then swished through the net. After the game, Larry claimed that he had meant to do that.
I will never forget how my friends and I made the two-hour trek to Glenn Falls in upstate New York to watch the championship game. We swarmed the court once the final buzzer sounded and we were champions.
After graduation, Larry received a scholarship to Dominican, a Div. II school, to play ball. However, an injury hampered him during his freshmen year and he ended up leaving the school.
Recently, Larry had been preparing to get back into the middle of the action -- this time not as a basketball player or as a mediator, but rather as a firefighter. He also served as recreation department camp counselor and helped teach a Head Start program at St. Bernard's Church in White Plains. Larry would certainly have touched more lives had he been given the chance.
More than 500 people showed up for Larry's wake on Sunday following Thursday's funeral. "Teachers and counselors, classmates and teammates filed by his casket," said The Journal News.
While I wasn't one of those 500 people who filed by Larry's casket on Sunday, my fallen friend has certainly been on my mind. As I prepare to graduate in May, I can't help but worry about the future. I hope that I can live the rest of my life the way Larry lived his 21-years -- by positively impacting others.
Larry Warren Sr., my former soccer coach, said at his son's funeral that "he was thankful that [Larry] had touched so many lives in a short time."
I haven't seen him in two or three years, and it has been even more time since we associated on a consistent basis, but I can certainly say that Larry touched my life and I will never forget him.
Rest in peace, Larry.
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