High school games aren't so amateur anymore

High school athletics used to be a safe haven.

It used to be a means for kids to stay active and learn the value of discipline.

It used to be the place parents would send their kids after school to keep them out of trouble and off the streets.

Well, now the troubled streets have set up shop within amateur sports.

The freshest example surrounds NBA-bound O.J. Mayo, who has been accused of receiving $30,000 in illegal benefits from Los Angeles promoter Rodney Guillory before and during Mayo's one year at the University of Southern California.

It's easy for those following the situation to say how Mayo should know better or ask why he couldn't have waited just a few years to reap the benefits of his talent in the pros.

To a certain extent, I agree with that school of thought. If found guilty, these student-athletes should pay back every cent of the illegal money to a charity rather than dumping their scandal in the laps of their former schools.

But we're not the ones who have these predators whispering sweet nothings in our ears at the age of 12 or 13.

We're not the ones who see our mom work multiple jobs and still not be able to pay the bills, while our dad is nowhere to be found.

And it's not like things get any better in college.

As the NCAA makes huge profits off the talent and exposure of its many athletes, it also has the nerve to impose sanctions so strict that college coaches can't even treat their players to a simple meal.

People often forget that there's a reason these athletes are called "amateurs."

They are easily swayed and highly impressionable kids who, without proper guidance, are naive enough to entertain a one-way track to success.

Yet it's at the amateur level of basketball that the flammable mix of agents, middlemen and stars is brought together.

That's because in basketball, thanks to high school hoops activist Sonny Vaccaro, there are summer camps sponsored by shoe companies that would love to find the next Michael Jordan.

There's the travel of AAU basketball, which brings together the nation's best at various tournaments throughout the year.

And don't forget ESPN's primetime coverage of high school games, which again increases the fame and visibility of these teenagers.

Such avenues only make it easier for the hustlers to pinpoint their prey before latching on in hopes of pumping every dollar they can from their newest cash cow.

The sad part is that there's no real way to stop guys like Guillory from moving in.

Money talks and morals seem to go only so far nowadays, especially when parents take the route of Mayo's mother, Alisha.

"If O.J. trusts (Guillory), I've got to go with my kid," she said in an ESPN interview, just moments after admitting she didn't trust Guillory.

So, not only can these middlemen have an overriding influence on the players -- many of whom are African-American boys in search of a father figure -- but they also can potentially outweigh parental authority.

Scary stuff.

And mind you, the sum allegedly reaped by Mayo is just 15 percent of the $200,000 that Guillory supposedly got for swaying Mayo to sign with Bill Duffy Associates Sports Management.

In other words, even in a black market system meant to undermine the NCAA's many rules on recruiting and financial compensation, the amateur athletes still get exploited.

"(Mayo's) circumstances dictated that he survive in a system that has a set of guidelines on which you conduct yourself if you want to survive," Louis Johnson said in the ESPN interview where he brought forth the accusations against Mayo and Guillory. "(Mayo) played within the rules of the game and this is the game. Runners, agents, shoe companies, other elements. This is the game. He had no choice but to play it."

Indeed, the game known as high school athletics isn't played just on the court anymore. It's also dictated by those lurking on the sidelines, possessing all the equipment they need to turn an amateur's victory into their own.