Raines high school students hope football can save them from Jacksonville's dangerous streets

Raines High School football coach Deran Wiley paced a restless lecture hall full of murmurs. His right hand touched his watch. It was time.

In the front row, ready for practice, quarterback Augie DeBiase chewed Doritos. Behind him, cornerback Bishop Bonnett grimaced from a foot cramp. Safety Davonte Lawrence sat in silence.

Wiley stared back. "The city is on your shoulders," he said. "What are you doing? Man, we're counting on y'all."

At Raines, winning can bring college scholarships, college scholarships can bring an education, and that can bring a shot at the NFL. State champions are immortalized. Trophies will honor them. Future students will know their names.

Bishop Bonnett left behind a gang and most of his friends to dedicate his life to football. Sports might keep him safe.

Davonte Lawrence, kicked out of Raines his freshman year for fighting a teacher, had waited three years for this chance. Perhaps football would help him care for his mom.

Augie DeBiase, the team's only white player, left the whitest neighborhood school in the county to join the blackest. At Raines, he saw an opportunity to prove his worth.

The three young men had come here for different reasons, but in this they were united: Football could be the vehicle to carry them to their dreams.

Wiley's job was not so simple as teaching kids to tackle and throw. His job was to turn every football play into a lesson in humility, self-control and ambition.

"Do you feel pressure with the city on your back?" Wiley asked his undefeated team dreaming of state championship glory. "Or do you feel opportunity?"

Their minds raced. Their legs bounced. Their limbs stretched. A state title could be just 33 days away. Winning it could take them away from here, away from disappointment, away from a legacy of failure.

VIOLENCE AND FOOTBALL ON MONCRIEF

William M. Raines High School has sat since 1965 on Moncrief Road, a corridor of poverty and crime in Northwest Jacksonville. Residents there were intentionally neglected and segregated; in the 1930s, the federal government labeled the neighborhood a "Negro concentration" unworthy of investment. And the neighborhood didn't improve from there.

But in Northwest Jacksonville, high school football, specifically Raines High School football, is like something in a movie.

Every week of every fall, the neighborhood takes a one-day reprieve from life's stress to brag about their home. Yeah, I'm from Moncrief, they say, and did you see how many points those Raines boys put up against Jackson, against Wolfson, against Lee? At least 20 Raines players have made it to the NFL, and four played in Super Bowls. Any given Friday can make a future star.

The rest of the week, Moncrief fills with dangers. Students hear news of Raines graduates' deaths. In a matter of months, three current and former players at nearby First Coast High - one a former Raines athlete - would lose their lives to violence. At Raines, players pray for scholarships to save them.

BISHOP BONNETT: TOUGH FROM THE START

Bishop Bonnett had played through pain since he was 5. On the first play of his first game, he lost his two front teeth. On the second play, he ran 80 yards, blood dripping from his face.

Years earlier, his father, Derrell Bonnett, never had football. He had dropped out of college, then served time for selling drugs. He would make sure his son's life didn't turn out the same way. Because Bishop stayed with his mother and brothers outside Moncrief, maybe his son would be shielded from the streets. But he couldn't always protect Bishop. One day, Bishop saw someone shoot nine times at a man standing next to him.

"Don't claim this side of town," Derrell Bonnett told his son when he started going by Moncrief Bishop. "Don't get that label. Don't let people put you in that box. There's no opportunities here."

That's why from sixth to eighth grade Bishop went to a magnet school. That's why Derrell talked about his own failures. That's why Bishop went to football practice every week, every fall.

In ninth grade, instead of Raines, Bishop attended First Coast and joined a gang known for fighting. At clubs, his crew sized up people and picked fights. He uploaded videos of them. Once, there was a shootout.

Bishop fantasized about clothes and cars and girls. He wanted Polo and Lacoste and Havana Joe. He wanted a Mercedes-Benz.

Meanwhile, his old friends, even Pee Wee football teammates, were dying. Mike Mike. Jonathan. Vonte. Errin. Big Baby.

He grew tired of the violence, and he didn't even like the clubs or the crowds or the fights.

BISHOP CHANGES PLANS

Bishop quit the gang his sophomore year. He refused to hang out with friends and transferred to Raines to focus on football.

There, the coaches made him lift weights, then dash around the practice field, around the baseball field and back to the basketball court, then lift weights, then sprint, then lift weights, and then sprint again.

He rarely spoke, rarely joked and rarely smiled. He called out anyone who didn't take the game seriously enough. His junior year, he returned kicks, intercepted passes and forced fumbles.

His dreams had changed. He no longer wanted to be a street legend, but instead an investment banker with a wife and kids and maybe even a boat.

He needed a college scholarship, but he was only 5-foot-7 and 140 pounds. And if he couldn't get a scholarship offer, he decided, he would join the Army and his girlfriend would join the Navy. He earned a 3.5 GPA. He had decided, one way or another, that he would succeed where his father had failed.

RAINES-BOLLES: 97 SECONDS TO GO

On the night of Oct. 30, Raines fans and Bolles fans crowded the stadium on Moncrief.

In the second half, Bishop clutched his foot. The trainer said it was turf toe. But this game was critical.

In five years, Raines was the only district team to beat Bolles, winning four times. But three times, Bolles had beaten Raines in the playoffs before playing for the state championship. Somehow, Raines would have to beat Bolles this time and then again in the playoffs.

That night, though, Augie DeBiase had already thrown two interceptions and lost a fumble before halftime. Willie Wright, normally an explosive returner, had dropped a kickoff and a punt.

With 97 seconds left, Bolles took the lead, 30-29, before kicking off to Wright. He grabbed the ball on the 25-yard line, cut right, retreated, juked two tacklers and picked up two blocks on his way to his sixth return touchdown of the season.

The next series, the Bolles quarterback threw to his 6-4, 205-pound tight end. As he turned, Bishop propelled his much smaller body into the receiver, forcing the fumble that sealed the win and the district title.

Raines players ran down the sidelines; the crowd shrieked. Through the pain, Bishop flashed a rare smile.

DIG DEEP, OR GO HOME

Weeks later, on a bright, 70-degree day, Bishop led the Vikings defense into drills. The regular season had ended, and Bolles was coming back for a playoff rematch.

"How's your foot?" an assistant coach asked him.

"I'm out here," Bishop said.

"That's not what I asked. How's your foot? Where's the pain?"

"In the bone," he said and pointed.

"When you feel pain, back off," the coach said. Bishop said nothing.

Wiley told the players that they if they played as sloppily against Bolles as they did the first time, they wouldn't win. If they haven't learned to dig deep in their souls, he told them, if they haven't learned to work so hard it hurts, then high school football was meaningless and they should give up now.

"The key to the damn game is this right here," he said, "who is going to be the most physical team and do their job?"

Bolles against Raines, he said. A repeat at home. The winner would be one game away from playing for the state title.

"Do you really want it, you seniors?" He looked at Augie, at Bishop. Wiley's voice slowed but grew louder, vibrating with emotion. "They done sent us home three years in a row crying."

AUGIE DEBIASE: DREAMS AND DOUBTS

After switching schools and teams three times, Augie DeBiase took a shot at a place far different and far away from his family's sprawling Ponte Vedra Beach home. He hadn't liked the coaching changes at his earlier schools, so his parents found a place to rent on Moncrief so he could go to Raines.

His father had always been willing to pay the price of success for his son. That meant agility drills at 5 years old, weightlifting and dieting by sixth grade, choosing schools for their football teams, flying Augie to private coaches and recruiting camps.

It's all so much, Augie's mom said, but this was what it took to succeed at football nowadays, not like when her husband was in high school and at Seton Hall University, where he earned a scholarship before blowing out his knee.

Augie won starting duty at Nease as a freshman but, after the season, transferred to Providence. There, the coach was fired, and the new coach wanted a run-first offense, so Augie transferred to Fletcher.

That's where the rumors started: He didn't deserve to start; his dad bought his way onto the team. The talk irritated Augie. No one, he said, could honestly think a quarterback could buy playing time. I can't change my parents' wealth, he told people; all I can do is work harder than everyone. He didn't like Fletcher's environment, the rumors and the way people made fun of his family's wealth, so again, he and his dad looked to move.

AUGIE FINDS ACCEPTANCE

At Raines, he knew he would stick out. Just seven of the school's 1,052 students are white, and he was believed to be its first white quarterback. But Raines' previous two starting quarterbacks had earned college scholarships, and the team planned to keep passing with five receivers destined for college. Indiana University offered Augie a scholarship, but he and his dad held out hope for a better opportunity, maybe at Georgia or Miami.

Mike Pinckney, the team's quiet defensive captain, welcomed Augie, inviting him to church, to hang out, to train together. Pinckney, who committed to Miami after his sophomore year, was among the seniors who willed the team and the school to rally around the new quarterback.

Augie took two classes at Raines, but everyone in the school knew who he was. The school, he said, surrounded him with encouragement, even after bad games. Fans' criticism and rumors filled the stands and Facebook feeds, but those criticisms never entered the hallways.

Augie may be wealthy, Pinckney said, but he's a hard worker and the team needs him.

RAINES-BOLLES REMATCH: WIN AND YOU'RE IN

Raines faced Bolles in their playoff rematch on a cold November night, Augie's father marched back and forth in front of the bleachers.

Mark DeBiase watched as his son launched a 35-yard pass to an open receiver. He shook his gray Raines ball cap with "Daddy D" embroidered on the back, his body quaking as he screamed. A woman in the stands shook his hand. Another fan clanged a cowbell and chest-bumped Mark. "We're going to do it tonight," the man shouted.

Mark never could sit in the stands. Too much nervous energy. Too many critical eyes. Too much chaos.

But in the moments when Augie was flawless, Mark loved the congratulations, loved the screaming, loved the marching band and the parents who hadn't missed a game in years.

Mark turned around to face the crowd, as it chanted Augie's name.

Plenty of games were different from tonight, Mark knew. Sometimes, when Augie made a mistake, parents shouted at Wiley to bench him. Before this game, Mark had dropped to his knees at home and prayed. "Are you OK?" his wife asked.

At halftime, the team was up 15-8, as the players marched into the locker room.

"Hey man, seniors, go all out. Augie, just get your drop; be smooth, dog," Wiley said in a calm, slow voice. "Hey, let me go ahead and take the pressure off. Nobody has ever beat Bolles twice in one year." (He didn't actually know if this was true, but they needed to hear it.) "We ain't even beat them twice in one year. So why is the pressure on us? We should be loose as a goose."

In the third quarter, Augie threw a touchdown pass but injured his shoulder.

"Augie, are you OK?" his dad asked as he ran onto the sidelines.

"No!" Augie shouted back.

In the fourth quarter, Augie faked a handoff and ran around a defensive lineman, a cornerback and a linebacker. He bolted past another, his arms pumping as he raced two safeties to the end zone, securing the win.

"Oh my God!" his dad shouted. "Oh my God!"

For the first time in almost two decades, Raines had a shot at the state title.

DAVONTE LAWRENCE: A SECOND CHANCE

Raines expelled Davonte Lawrence his freshman year after he challenged a band teacher one too many times. Davonte was told to transfer to Ribault, less than a mile away on Moncrief but lacking the friends who felt like brothers.

He remembered Pop Warner football in Grand Park when he was 8 or 9 years old, and a loud bang shook the air. Everyone hit the ground. He would later remember the smell of the grass and how hot it was. He popped his head up and saw a car race off.

The streets might've enticed him, but he was too busy with football for that element. He loved the brotherhood of football, the competition, everyone focused on a single mission. He knew he had natural ability and could be the best football player in Jacksonville. He wanted to rejoin Raines where he still felt more connected, where his old Pee Wee teammates played, where the playbook was bigger and the practices tougher.

Last spring, Davonte got his chance. He promised to be disciplined, even if he daydreamed about football.

One day in economics class, as his teacher droned about supply and demand, Davonte sat lost in thought. He was in the NFL, playing for some nameless team. His foot on the goal line, he faced his opposing receiver. The quarterback threw.

"Davonte," his teacher interrupted, "are you paying attention?"

LIFE BEYOND FOOTBALL

On Sundays, some of the Raines defensive backs went to Miller's Ale House for lunch with an assistant coach. There, they could talk about life beyond football.

The coach explained how important it was that they find careers they love, not just careers that pay. One safety wanted to be a musician. Bishop asked about finance and real estate majors. What did Davonte want to do?

Eat and cook good food, he said with a smile. He didn't tell them why. He didn't explain that even though his mom worked hard and took care of three children, she made time to cook for her children, and he loved her for that. He loved that she didn't just cook easy food. She wanted healthy children, so she made sure they ate seafood and vegetables, not fried food. He loved seeing her passion in the kitchen, the way she lit up when she baked tilapia, or how she would treat her children to her special bread pudding. He liked the competition behind it, too. He wanted his friends to tell him his food was the best they'd ever eaten.

If football could bring him a college scholarship, then he could study business and go to a culinary institute. Eventually, he'd have a restaurant of his own, and he wouldn't have to worry about the price of those Ale House lunches. He wouldn't have to share a cellphone with his mom, and he could provide for her.

He just needed to keep performing.

RAINES-RIBAULT: THE GAME TAKEN AWAY

Early in the regular season-ending game against rival Ribault, Davonte had lined up for a punt return. He juked left, then right, faked his way past three defenders and burst through a hole. He made it 35 yards before two defenders caught up to him. Planting his right foot and twisting away, he knew immediately something wasn't right.

Can you move your leg? a trainer asked. He shook his head.

He would have to sit out all through the playoffs, when the games mattered the most, when scouts watched the most.

Raines was supposed to beat Ribault and emerge with an undefeated regular season. Even former NFL stars came and begged them at halftime to beat Ribault, to give Raines bragging rights. But Raines lost anyway.

Three weeks later, when Raines secured a spot in the state championship, the team couldn't stop shouting and laughing and jumping. Davonte was happy for the team, but he felt useless. He walked to the bus alone.

What right did he have to celebrate, he wondered, if he didn't actually play?

MONCRIEF NEEDS FOOTBALL

An energy filled Moncrief. At barbershops and restaurants, in modest houses and musty apartments, on Facebook and Twitter, conversations turned toward Raines.

Could this be the year that Raines repeats the miracle of 1997, when a new coach beat Belle Glade Glades Central in the final minute? It remained the only state championship for a Duval County public school.

Wiley and his staff had learned to better study film and better keep the players focused.

He made tackle Solomon Kindley, who was approaching 400 pounds, sign up for track and field to gain energy and lose weight. The college scouts noticed, and Georgia and Iowa State competed for his commitment. Wiley stayed late and watched film with linebacker Michael Pinckney before driving him home, a routine they started his freshman year. Pinckney now had a Miami scholarship, but he didn't want to take it for granted.

The week before the state championship, Wiley and his coaches analyzed film like usual, and they looked for weaknesses.

Could he stay focused in the championship against Miami's Booker T. Washington? Would that be enough?

RAINES-WASHINGTON: 'A LEAD AND WE WIN'

On the bus trip to Orlando, Wiley stared out the window as the players watched "Friday Night Lights." The movie tells the story of a star athlete dependent on football who hurts his knee. His team goes on to qualify for the playoffs without him, and he watches from the sidelines. The team falls short, and the players must learn to accept a life without football.

On the field, Wiley prayed, before shouting, "All I want you to do is ball!"

Augie's first throw was an interception. "We're good," a receiver yelled to him.

Raines' defense caught its own interception, but the offense couldn't score. Raines forced a fumble, but again the offense failed.

Augie threw a second interception, this one run back 100 yards for a touchdown.

One of Davonte's replacements missed a chance at an interception.

"You've got to warn him," Davonte told Bishop.

Finally, Augie threaded a deep pass through triple coverage, and a receiver caught it for a touchdown. With Raines leading 10-7, cheers of "Doooo-vahllll" filled the stadium.

"It's over now," the receiver said. "That's all we needed, a lead and we win."

Raines neared the goal line four times in the first half, but only once scored a touchdown.

The offensive line stumbled in front of runners and committed penalties that erased touchdowns. The defense had stopped Washington, but the Miami team had still scored with a returned interception.

In the locker room at halftime, Augie's right leg bounced and his hand trembled. Thousands of fans had come, so many that there weren't enough seats. Some were already yelling for Wiley to bench Augie.

Wiley shouted until his voice went hoarse. "The score should be 28-nothing. We've got the state championship game on the line."

"Twenty-four minutes, man, and our dreams come true," Augie said.

WHAT IS IT ALL FOR?

In the second half, Willie Wright muffed a punt, and Washington took the lead. Then Raines ran an interception back for a touchdown.

Washington scored a touchdown on a player filling in for Davonte as he hobbled along the sidelines. Augie responded with a touchdown. But Washington again scored on one of Davonte's replacements.

Raines had gained more yards, caused more turnovers and earned far more first downs, but the team was up only 23-22.

That's when a Bishop fumble was returned for a Washington touchdown. And then a touchdown run by Augie got called back on a penalty. Washington had scored 21 unanswered points.

Augie sat on the bench, his face in his hands. Four years of switching teams had left him with a state championship loss.

Players collapsed onto the field, but Bishop yelled at them to line up behind him in numerical order. They were state runners-up, and they were going to act like it, and they were going to be recognized. Crying, he said, wouldn't do any good.

He stood up straight, his helmet and his hands behind his back, and he stared at the second-place medals.

"I fought my heart out," he told a coach. "I ain't going to cry no more."

Later in the locker room, he looked around at his teammates.

"This might be the last time putting on pads," he said. Even if he couldn't win a state title, even if he couldn't get a college offer, this football team, he believed, saved his life. It taught him discipline. It made him dream for something better. Couldn't that be enough?

"I love y'all," he said, and then he, Augie, Davonte and the rest limped to the buses. The lights inside went off, and they pulled away, headed back to Moncrief.

EPILOGUE

After the season ended, Bishop Bonnett accepted a scholarship to Tusculum College in Tennessee, and Davonte Lawrence accepted a scholarship to Bethune-Cookman University. Indiana University and the University of North Texas offered scholarships to Augie DeBiase, and Columbia University offered a spot on its team if he boosts a test score, though Ivy League colleges don't offer athletic scholarships. He hasn't decided if he will accept one of those or spend a fifth year at a prep school in hopes of one more chance at a major college football program.

Andrew Pantazi: (904) 359-4310