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Baron Braswell II (5), plays in what turns out be his last football game ever. Baron Braswell II |
By ADAM HIMMELSBACH
Everyone mentions his smile. It was disarming. Take a moment and look at it, right next to these words. You can see the ocean of promise in that face.
Baron Braswell II had a smile that made strangers comfortable. It made friends feel loved. It made his family feel blessed.
He flashed that smile often, because so many things made Baron happy.
Like his grandmother's homemade cake with its coconut icing. Like deep-sea fishing. Like sitting on the porch with his father on lazy summer evenings and talking about football.
But that smile was taken away.
Braswell, a 16-year-old junior at Courtland High School, was stabbed to death at a party at the Howard Johnson in Spotsylvania County last Friday night.
Five James Monroe High school football players have been arrested, and a sixth teen has been charged with first-degree murder.
Baron will be laid to rest today. Then his teammates and friends and family will say goodbye, and they'll be left with the memory of his indelible smile.
A cheerful childGwen Braswell wondered if her unborn child could hear her voice.
She'd softly rub her stomach and talk to him. She'd say, "I love you" over and over.
She was in labor for more than 20 hours at a hospital in Fort Benning, Ga., but it was worth every second.
Sometimes when babies are born, their tiny eyelids are shut like shades over windows. When Baron P. Braswell II entered the world on Sept. 29, 1989, he looked up at his mother as she held him in her arms. His eyes were big and exploring.
"He knew exactly who I was," Gwen says.
Baron was a cheerful little boy. He used to crawl into a small cupboard in the kitchen, bottle in hand. He'd take the pots and pans and push them onto the floor to make room for his little fort.
Sometimes the elder Baron and Gwen would put the cookware back in the cabinet, but it was a futile effort. A few moments later little Baron would toss it back out. The parents laughed.
Gwen was studying to become an anesthesia nurse, and she used to pore over textbooks while her baby sat close and flipped through Sesame Street books.
"Mommy, read to me!" he'd plead.
Before long, Baron memorized the words. He couldn't read, but he recited stories to his mother.
The Braswells were an Army family, and their jobs moved them from Georgia to Texas to Washington state. In 1992, they moved to the Fredericksburg area, and when young Baron was 5, he joined a parks and rec T-ball team.
He liked baseball, and he knew his father loved it, so that made it especially important. Baron always wanted to make his father proud.
When Baron was 11, the family relocated to El Paso, Texas. He hit more than 40 home runs during two seasons of Little League baseball there.
"When he hit them out, they didn't just get over the fence," his father said. "They were gone."
He started taking tae kwon do lessons, and earned his black belt by age 12. He could split three boards with his fist like they were pieces of uncooked spaghetti.
The family moved back to Spotsylvania in December 2002, halfway through Baron's eighth grade year.
One spring day, the teen came bounding home from school and ran to his father.
He told him he wanted to play football.
"It's May," Baron told his son. "Football doesn't start until September."
"But Dad," the boy responded. "We have to start lifting weights!"
Focused on footballOn many summer mornings, Baron went to his friend Imran Ahmed's apartment off Courthouse Road.
Usually Baron would be wearing his favorite sunglasses, drinking a ginger ale and munching on a Pop-Tart.
"I used to joke with him about having soda so early," Ahmed says with a laugh. "He always told me he'd just burn it off."
They didn't want the cling-clang of metal to disturb the neighbors, so they'd carry 50-pound weights and a 45-pound bar out to a small play area. They'd listen to music and lift, then they'd lug the weights back to Ahmed's apartment.
Baron started getting stronger. He turned from a skinny boy to a muscular young man. He liked flashing his sinewy calf muscles to friends.
"This doesn't come from exercise," he'd say with a smile. "This is just genetics, baby."
Baron had a calendar and used to write down which exercises he did each day. He was almost always doing something .
He'd watch his favorite movies--"Forrest Gump" and "Scarface"--and do sit-ups. Sometimes the father would hear a clunking noise at 2 in the morning, and he'd go to the boy's room and see him doing pushups.
Baron wanted to be strong for football. He made the JV team as a freshman and started on varsity the following year.
The nights before Courtland football games, Baron used to bring his practice uniform home and wash it. Then he'd sit on the porch with his father, as stars twinkled in the sky, and they'd talk about the upcoming game.
The talk often switched from football to life. They were father-son moments that fathers everywhere would relish.
The elder Baron used to leave his son's lunch money on a table in the morning. This was his sly way of knowing if his son had overslept.
If the money was still there when young Baron was supposed to have finished his breakfast and left for school, the father went and pounded on the door.
That was never a problem on game days, when Baron awoke antsy and excited.
He wore his royal blue game jersey proudly. The honor student used to walk through the halls between classes, itching for the final bell.
His father always got to the stadium an hour before kickoff. He'd drop off his 10-year-old son, Zachary, who'd climb the chain-link fence and run to the field to be a ball boy.
The father would see his older son on the field practicing punts. He always waved and offered a sarcastic smile. His son hated punting, just hated it. But he did it for the team because no one could do it better.
After the game, the Braswell brothers would climb into their father's car for what usually was a happy ride home.
"And Baron would want to tell me everything I already saw," the father says with a smile.
Baron started at linebacker in each game his sophomore year, and the Cougars reached the Region I playoffs. He injured his ankle prior to the semifinal against undefeated Lafayette. It hurt to walk and felt worse when he ran. Baron played a few snaps before being replaced by Paul Shuler, a senior.
The elder Baron figured his son would be devastated. He walked across the field toward Baron after the game, which Courtland lost, and saw that magical smile.
"You know what, Dad," the son said, "I don't think God wanted me to play today. Paul's a senior, and this was his chance. I'll get a chance again later."
Baron joined the track team last spring to stay in shape for football. Courtland coach Jesse Johnson looked at the 6-foot Braswell and saw his long, graceful stride. He asked him to try hurdles.
Baron was fast, but when it came to hurdles, he was more like a bull than a thoroughbred. His feet and legs slapped the metal barriers as he tried to clear them.
His teammates laughed hysterically, and so did Baron. He laughed as he ran.
"He wasn't worried about how it looked," the elder Baron says. "He was doing it for his team."
This past football season, Baron helped Courtland to the Battlefield District championship. Cougars coach J.C. Hall says Baron was set to become the lead receiver and team captain next year.
In recent weeks, even though the season was long over, Baron pestered graduating wide receiver Hakeem Moore to teach him new plays. He wanted to keep learning.
On Wednesday night, Moore stood in a hall at the high school, still trying to make sense of his friend's death.
"At least I know he's in a better place right now," Moore said quietly. "He's a starter in heaven."
A big brother to look up toA 10-year-old boy lost his only brother on Friday. As far as brothers go, Zachary Braswell thought Baron was as cool as they come.
When Baron went for jogs, Zachary sometimes tagged along as best he could. He wanted to be just like Baron.
They played video games and watched cartoons together. They playfully sparred using boxing gloves. They tossed a football back and forth, laughing and smiling.
They were traveling buddies, too. Their parents are now divorced, so Baron and Zachary would often board a plane and fly to Texas, where their mother lives.
They'd go swimming and bodysurfing. They said on their next trip, they were going to scuba dive.
Last season Zachary was a ball boy for the Courtland football team. He had the best seat in the house. His brother was usually just a few yards away.
Sometimes Zachary would scurry into the bleachers and sit next to his father. Then he'd start pointing out all the teenage girls that had called the Braswell home that week, looking for Baron.
No one will wear the No. 5 football jersey at Courtland for the next few years. They're holding it for Zachary.
"The thing that hurts the most," Moore said, "is that Zachary doesn't have somebody to look up to."
Moore is one of several Courtland football players that plan to watch over Zachary. He'll check on his schoolwork. He'll take him to the mall. He'll try to be the big brother that Baron was.
A future stolenBaron Braswell was getting ready to take his son for his driver's license road test.
Baron had a learner's permit for a while, and was getting used to his father's 1995 Isuzu Rodeo, a stick shift.
"He had a little bit of a heavy foot," the father says with a smile.
Baron's grandmother, Fredericka, was saving her old blue Buick sedan for her grandson.
She told him she'd get the interior carpet changed, so that it wouldn't seem so old.
"You don't have to do that, Granny," Baron told her. "I just want to get from point A to point B."
He'd be able to drive to Beulah Baptist Church in Woodford for services every Sunday. He'd be able to drive to football practice.
Baron really wanted a car so that if he enrolled at the University of Virginia after high school, he'd be able to drive home whenever he wanted.
Baron wanted to play college football. He took an unofficial visit to U.Va. last fall, and saw the Cavaliers beat Duke. He loved the smells and the sounds and the lush, green field. He told his father that Virginia would be perfect.
"I just want him to be remembered for who he was and who he was becoming," Gwen Braswell says. "He had goals and aspirations in life. If he would have lived, he would have had an opportunity to shine."
A family finds solaceThe outpouring of support has overwhelmed the Braswell family. There have been plenty of embraces and tears.
They've taken turns manning the phone as calls flood in from friends and loved ones across the country.
Makeshift memorials decorate the grounds at Courtland High School, and the flags have flown at half-staff. The hearse carrying Baron's body to a wake last night was to drive past Courtland on the way to the church. Baron's father wanted his son to pass the place that meant so much to him.
The Braswells have heard many stories about how wonderful their son was. Each one warms their hearts a little more.
Earlier this week, Gwen Braswell was going through her son's things when she came upon an old day-planner.
She flipped through the pages and saw a list of her son's goals. One stood out.
Baron had scribbled a note to himself prior to a football game. Among other things, it said: score two touchdowns.
In November, Courtland faced Powhatan in the Region I championship game. The Cougars lost, 45-21, ending their season.
But, as was his way, Baron played until the end. In the second half, he caught a pair of touchdown passes, Courtland's last two scores of the season.
He met his goal. He scored those two touchdowns in what turned out to be his final game.
His family finds peace in that.
To reach ADAM HIMMELSBACH:
Email: ahimmelsbach@freelancestar.com
