Keep Your Mouth Shut

In that moment, he was the very center of the universe. Their fate, at least for today, was under his exclusive control. He alone wielded the power to let them play or send them home. And so all 130 kids fixed their eyes on him with a touch of anxiety.

The referee.

He wasn’t there to tell them how wonderful they were, or coach them up, or provide the inspirational message of a guest speaker. He was the rules guy. The enforcer. And the first thing he said was unexpected in this, perhaps the most profane place on earth:

"No swearing."

A few titters rippled through the crowd. They hoped he was joking. 

Then he repeated the command.

"If you swear, you get a technical foul, you sit out. Two techs, and you’re out for the day."

It got very quiet, very quick. Suddenly this Harlem basketball court, which moments earlier had been a rowdy cacophony of excited teenagers, went silent. In the stillness I heard a car horn in the distance from blocks away. I heard a mother talking softly to her child as she pushed a stroller from a sidewalk, somewhere back over my shoulder. If there had been a pin to drop on the court …

It’s never been this quiet in Harlem, I thought to myself.

Then Nilson shouted.

Seventeen years old, fresh off the train from Brooklyn, he grabbed his teammate by the shoulders and yelled:

“Keep your mouth shut! They’ll kick you out if you swear here!”

It wasn’t polished. It wasn’t poetic. But it was crystal clear:

He wanted to play. He wanted to follow the rules. He wanted this day to be everything he’d hoped for.

Nilson had been hearing about Street2Street all summer. He pulled his friends together, got a team organized, and showed up. And now that he was here, he wasn’t going to let a careless word take it away. Not for him. Not for anyone.

That’s what happens when you raise the bar.

Set it high, and they’ll rise. They’ll jump over it like their life depends on it—because sometimes it kind of does.

They’re not all used to this. Not used to structure without chaos. Not used to boundaries. But here, under the heat of the sun and the weight of a whistle, they get to play in a safe, fun, competitive environment—one that demands discipline, requires their best, and gives it back.

Understand, this was not an easy rule for most of these kids. In so many homes, no complete sentence is ever uttered that’s not peppered with profanity. And that’s certainly the case in the schools, on the streets, and just about any other basketball court in town. 

But as the day progressed, something shifted. Teams from different boroughs started cheering for each other. Players helped opponents up. Kids didn’t just follow the rules—they bought in. They protected the space, just like Nilson did.

That’s the power of raising the standard. And that’s what Street2Street does, every day.