For more background on today's column:

A piece about Christopher Clarke's lacrosse team at Patterson High School (below)

A generous donation to help the team. 

OUT OF TRAGEDY, A TEAM
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Byline: DAN RODRICKS/Published on Sunday, May 13, 2007

   His surviving teammates and lacrosse coach created a memorial to
Christopher Clarke on the wall of the basement locker room at Patterson High
School. They took the gloves, blue helmet, lacrosse stick and blue-and-white
No. 24 jersey out of his locker and fastened them to the bulletin board near
the door that leads to the steps to the playing field.
   It was fine for a little while.
    But, equipment being in meager supply at one of the last large-zone high
schools in the city, and most of the players unable to afford their own, the
team in time had to take pieces of the memorial to continue playing games.
   "Yeah, we've since had to borrow some of Chris' equipment from the wall,"
says Jon Kehl, the young history teacher who just finished his first season as
the Patterson lacrosse coach. "But I think Chris is OK with that."
   During the winter, Kehl put up his own money for six used sticks so Clarke
and his teammates could start practicing. It was one of those sticks they
found in Clarke's locker after the Patterson senior was shot to death in March
- an innocent victim of Baltimore street violence. They returned his cleats to
Clarke's mother, and they used the ball they found in his locker as their
first game ball of the season.
   Clarke's surviving teammates remember him as they step out of the door to
the playing field. Before the start of each half, they huddle closely, raise
their sticks, and shout: "One-two-three, rest in peace, Chris!"
   The Patterson High School lacrosse team of 2007 was short on skill; they
played a hard-nosed game lacking any pretense of finesse. Only four of them
had been members of the 2006 team, and only six of them had ever touched a
lacrosse stick before. They played some games without substitutes, and even
when the whole team was there, Kehl had only a couple of players on the
sideline.
   And, of course, the Clippers played without Clarke, whom Kehl describes as
"an amazing young man, a natural leader."
   The 2007 Clippers won just a couple of games. They lost a few by wide
margins.
   "On the sideline, I rarely pay attention to scores," says Kehl. "But I
think Walbrook beat us by 20."
   What the Clippers lack in lax skills they make up for by the ton in heart
and spirit, and that's all the more remarkable considering the circumstances
of their lives and the tragedy that marked the start of their season.
   "We lost a ton of games," says Kehl. "But the guys get on the bus, and
they're never moaning or crying. They come out of practices pumped and ready
to go again. Our kids are very passionate."
   The boys hold themselves proudly, even solemnly, as they march across the
gritty floor of the locker room, up the steps and out to the grass in the
rundown stadium, where about 25 fans wait on a splendid spring day for a game
against Southside Academy. The boys kneel and pray. The captains hold hands as
they meet their opponents at midfield. They chant and cheer.
   "One-two-three, rest in peace, Chris!"
   By all accounts, Christopher Clarke was someone headed for success from a
high school the state had declared an academic failure.
   Clarke was 18 years old, a good student, musician and athlete, handsome,
polite, well-liked by his friends and the adults at his church. He had
intended to graduate from Patterson and enter the city police academy.
   On March 13, he finished classes, went to lacrosse practice, then to his
part-time job at the Burger King on Kane Street, then to his friend's house a
couple of blocks from his own. Clarke was on Cliftmont Avenue when gunfire
erupted. Three young men were wounded. Two survived. No arrests have been
made.
   In a city where such violence is common, Clarke's death was outrageous and
infuriating - a kid on a good track caught in the crossfire of losers.
   The Patterson school newspaper was filled with emotional comments from
students and faculty. "You were, to me, the embodiment of limitless
potential," one of his teachers wrote.
   Kehl, his lacrosse coach, went to the funeral with some senior players.
Afterward, they went to lunch in Fells Point; the players decided to dedicate
the season to Clarke.
   "Let's do what Chris would want us to do," one of them said.
   At the first practice of the season, Kehl gathered the players in a circle
at midfield and had them state what was on their minds and in their hearts.
They were angry. They were sad. They bonded quickly as a team.
   "I think it gave more purpose to the season," Kehl says, when I ask how
Clarke's death affected the team. "It gave the team cohesion, kept us from
falling apart."
   They lost most of their games, including Thursday's against Kenwood, but
spoke of the improvements they made as players and as a team. The boys of the
2007 Clippers might not be among lacrosse's elite, they might not play for a
powerhouse, and the college scouts aren't even looking in their direction. But
they have passion, and they understand community, staying loyal and keeping
faith.
   "One-two-three, rest in peace, Chris!"