Mr. Johnson’s Neighborhood

The site of this renovation - the Pistons’ first outdoors - was Johnson’s backyard in northwest Detroit, where an open invitation has stood since 1979. Come here, play basketball and feel safe. Disrespect yourself or others, and find another court.

A simple premise. A profound impact.

How else to explain the 400-plus who gathered near the corner of Pembroke and Greenfield on Monday afternoon? They came from across the street, across metro Detroit, even across generations to see Mr. Johnson’s revered court, the place the mayor himself confessed he had heard about but never visited. The place 35-year-old Detroit resident Damon Peak remembers as a teenager “was a spot to stay out of trouble.”

The place that is now the site of a fresh asphalt court with two NBA-style breakaway rims, a Pistons logo at center court and the list of Mr. Johnson’s rules - no fighting, no profanity among them. The place now known as “Mr. Johnson’s Hoop-De-Do.”

“It started with the garage,” Willie, 64, said. “A hoop on the garage, and then it went to half-court and full-court but I never imagined this.”

’Friends I didn’t even know’

Willie and his wife Norma provided a stable environment to raise their sons, Ranodano and Jermell. He saw a harsher upbringing out his window. “I saw a lot of these kids, a lot of them came from single-parent homes, drug-infested, brutality,” he said. “What I told my wife was we were going to build a court for the young men, for the young women.” So he paved over his spacious backyard and let the games begin, provided the kids behave and keep their grades up. Kids flocked to the Johnson house. Damon Peak didn’t even live in the neighborhood, but his friends did so he spent a lot of time there in the summer. “Man, it used to be crowded,” he said. “There were some good runs back there, and there used to be a hump in the pavement but I see the Pistons took care of that.”

The court rarely fell silent in the summer, especially on July 4, when daylong basketball tournaments were accompanied by barbeques. “I’d be asleep, and basically the basketball would be my alarm clock, that way I knew somebody’d be back there and I’d wake up,” Jermell said. “We’d play from morning to night.”

Jermell, 38, and Damon, 35, likely played on that court together some 20 summers ago, though neither would recognize the other today. Jermell often meets anonymous teammates who remember playing at his house. He finds himself talking about the good old days a lot. “They know me from this court, and they’d come up to me and we’d talk,” he said. “I had a whole lot of friends, friends I didn’t even know.”

Though he doesn’t know them all by name, Willie is proud to learn some of the boys that first played on his court have become men. “A young man came last summer, he’s a state trooper in South Carolina. He brought his 12-year-old son and told his son this is the court. His son could not believe that Mr. Johnson exists,” he said. “He shook my hand. That will stay with me.”

Damon also wanted his three children to see the court. He and his wife Patrice - whose aunt lives around the block from the Johnsons - attended the celebration. Their eldest daughter, 11-year-old Damonique, didn’t recognize the court she had heard so much about. “I thought it was better than what my dad said it used to be like,” she said. Her father, roaring with laughter, agreed.

In a single week, AJAX Paving Corporation provided the new, expanded plot of asphalt (for the first time Johnson can host 5-on-5 games) and Statewide Striping painted the court lines and Pistons logo. Meteor provided nine super-sized graphic panels to spruce up the fenced enclosure, which also has an electronic scoreboard.

John Rapley, 20, spent most of his teenage years on the Johnson’s court. Now that the rims won’t bend, he hopes Johnson’s “no dunking” rule will. “The court has been open for like 20 years and you could never dunk. This is like the first year you can actually dunk,” he said. “You get in trouble if you touch the rim, so everybody’s looking forward to it.”

’The Pistons are going to come see you’

Johnson’s basketball refuge is well known around the city, but his work received wider recognition in July following a story by Detroit Free Press writer Bill Laitner. Inspired by Johnson’s work, Larry Pollock from Bloomfield Hills offered to help Johnson fund his latest court renovation.

“We got to know each other very well and with each visit I became more committed to helping out,” said Pollock, who admired Willie’s manner with the kids. “The relationship he has is really one of trust. He’s perceived as a father figure to these kids. He has strict rules, he enforces them and the kids respond to that.”

Among the calls Pollock made in his fund-raising effort was to Pistons president and CEO Tom Wilson, which kicked the renovation plans into high gear and provided headliners for the premiere. Pistons Alex Acker, Arron Afflalo, Will Bynum, Amir Johnson, Walter Sharpe and Rodney Stuckey bussed down from Auburn Hills. Grade school kids from the area promptly swamped them for photos and autographs.

“All you young kids out there, you’ve got a good guy to look up to. Growing up I never experienced anything like this,” Stuckey told them. “Take advantage of this situation, stay in school. If you don’t have Jesus in your life that’s a good way to go as well. Enjoy this and I hope to see you guys cheering us on this year.”

Stuckey and Amir Johnson presented Willie with all the Pistons coaching essentials - a whistle on a Pistons strap, a Pistons hat and sweat suit and a dry-erase clipboard to draw up plays.

“When I was little, my pop said you don’t have to see the Pistons, the Pistons are going to come see you,” Jermell told the crowd. “I didn’t believe him when I was small. Twenty years later, they’re here.”

Jermell lives with his family in Oak Park, returning frequently to officiate games and provide instruction. He does it for free, which is a true luxury in Detroit, where organizational sports have become a pricy proposition. Mayor Cockrel noted that the budget shortfall has led to the closure of several recreation centers.

“I hope more people in the community, both everyday citizens and folks in the business community, will step up in the way that (Johnson) has and take care of our young people,” Cockrel said.

Rapley kept his grades up and now works at a printing shop while taking classes through the University of Phoenix. He was the last speaker before the ribbon cutting. “From everyone over there,” said Rapley, pointing to the half-dozen smiling young black men near the house. “I just want to say go Pistons and we love this court. We love you, Mr. Johnson.”

Yes, Detroit could use a lot more courts like Mr. Johnson’s Hoop-De-Do. What it really needs is more Mr. Johnsons.