Wednesday, April 8, 1998
Seeing is believing
LEBER: Darren Gresham proves that vision
isn’t necessary to enjoy sports and life
By Avi Lidgi
Daily Bruin Contributor
Angered by bureaucratic hassles that have forced him to
rearrange his schedule next quarter for the umpteenth time, Darren
Gresham reacts the way he always does when life doesn’t seem to be
smiling as warmly on him as he’d like.
He smiles.
No, he laughs.
"Man, I got to take this math class next semester," said
Gresham, his trademark ear-to-ear grin making one of its many
appearances. "Math to me is like Braille to you."
Gresham, a 22-year-old fifth-year senior who grew up just blocks
away from South Central’s notorious Florence and Normandy area, had
always dreamed of coming to UCLA. His will to fulfill that dream
would be tested in 1991.
In a neighborhood where people are routinely robbed for their
cash, watches and jewels, Gresham was robbed of something far more
precious .
"I can’t see," he said.
Leber’s optic atrophy, a hereditary malady that also affects two
of Gresham’s uncles, claimed his sight at the age of 14.
"I woke up one day and everything was a little blurry," Gresham
remembers. "So, I went to school and put a little Visine in my eyes
– no big deal. Every day it got a little worse and a little
worse.
"After two weeks, the Visine didn’t work anymore."
Within a span of 21 days, Gresham – an active, mischievous kid
who spent hours on end playing basketball with younger brother
Lawrence in their backyard – had learned that his eyes were as
useless open as they were closed.
Day became night. Light became dark. Everything he had known to
that point was still there.
He just couldn’t see it.
"You know in high school, how you always try to sit in the
back," recalls Gresham. "One day I was in the middle of the
classroom, and I just couldn’t see the board. Then I told my mother
…"
His voice trails.
Upon discovering chances were slim that his condition would
improve, Gresham, predictably, went into a state of shock.
He couldn’t drive, he thought. He couldn’t play basketball. No
matter how wide he opened his eyes, they wouldn’t cooperate.
"I went through a lot of pillows, man," he said, remembering the
rampages he went on when the rage of not being able to see brimmed
beyond his control. "A whole gang of pillows … I would tear
things up, break things. It was rough."
For most, suffering such a devastating tragedy could easily be
used as a pretext for failure. For Gresham – much like the ravages
of the Los Angeles riots and the violence around which he grew up –
blindness was merely another stumbling block he had to surmount on
his way to UCLA.
"In the beginning, I was alright with it," said Gresham. With
the unfailing support of his mother Ophelia – "I thank my mom
forever for what did for me" – Gresham decided not to forsake any
of his dreams.
"At first, I thought that learning Braille would be like, ‘I’m
blind,’" he said. "But I knew if I wanted to go to school and not
be a bum, I had to learn it."
Two days. That’s how long it took Gresham to learn the language
for the blind.
Remarkably, the sports that he so devotedly practiced and played
before he lost his sight are the same ones he continued to play.
And then some.
"Basketball, running, boxing, all that," said Gresham. "I’m
going to try skiing this year too. And power lifting, I want to
make the national team."
Being blind, one would expect Gresham to play with the
blind.
Not so.
Since he lost his sight, Gresham, who uses audio tapes to learn
textual information for his classes, decided that he could continue
doing whatever he was doing before, save for a few exceptions.
"I loved basketball," he said, grinning. "My handles have gotten
a lot better since I’ve lost my sight. I’m not going to make the
shot, but I can beat anybody off the dribble."
This is not entirely true.
In a two-on-two game that included me and another local from the
area, Gresham and his brother beat us soundly, thanks in no small
part to Gresham routinely taking me to the basket with quick
slashing moves that left my teammate confounded when he discovered
Gresham couldn’t see.
"You can’t tell," he said. "He plays good, I couldn’t tell that
he couldn’t see. His eyes move. What happened to him, did he get
into an accident?"
With the help of his brother Lawrence, 17, the two have
developed a system that enables Gresham to know where the ball is
and when it is coming to him.
"D!" says the younger Gresham, alerting his older brother to a
bounce pass that is coming his way. "Down," he yells, letting
Darren, who uses his hearing to track the path of the ball (and his
defender), know that the ball is rolling by his feet.
The verbal exchanges, however, are not always the friendly
variety, as the two use scathing banter to lighten the mood and
deflect attention from Darren’s alignment.
Typical exchange:
Darren: "See, usually I’ll use my hearing to know where
everybody is. With him (pointing to Lawrence), his odor is enough.
I just smell him."
Lawrence: "The only thing you’ll smell is me dunkin’ on your
ass."
Me (to Lawrence): "Do you play ball for Crenshaw? Are you going
to try to go to UCLA like your brother?"
Darren (Laughs uproariously): Him? Only place he’s going with
his grades is Cal State Burger King."
Lawrence: "I’m going to be playing college ball."
Darren: "Yeah, UC McDonald’s."
They both laugh.
Laughter, Darren’s signature, has not only helped him, but his
family cope as well. Far from being a self-loathing, floundering,
pity case, Gresham, according to his family, is the sparkplug –
always joking, always happy, always full of life.
Said his mother Ophelia: "You know, when it first happened, he
was like, ‘I’m going to be nobody’s guinea pig.’ Even if he is
down, you couldn’t tell. He’s always joking at himself.
"He is so independent. Does everything for himself. He said,
‘I’m going to finish UCLA,’ and come June 21, I’ll probably be the
only one with a thousand tears in my eyes. He will never give up,
Never, And I know that."
Even younger brother Lawrence managed a few kind words.
"I’m not as good a student as he is, but he inspires and
encourages me to do better," said the younger Gresham. "It would be
like two o’clock in the morning, and I’m having problems, about to
cry, and he’d be the one who would have to pick me up, instead of
the other way around.
"The whole house could be down and when Darren comes in, it’s a
big party. We love him."
Darren will graduate in June, the math class this quarter being
his final hurdle, proving to everybody that though his sight was
taken, his vision reaches farther than most.
"You got to roll with the punches," he said. "You got to get up,
get out or stay at home and be a bum. I’m just glad for the little
vision that I have."
Photos by CHARLES KUO/Daily Bruin
Darren Gresham refuses to allow being legally blind prevent him
from participating in athletics.