Draft night in Elizabeth, New Jersey. The gym goes quiet, and then somebody reads a name.
Every kid gets drafted. Every kid gets called by name.
Planes clear the rooftops here every few minutes on their way out of Newark. Elizabeth is a city people pass over. The kids notice. They notice which buildings get photographed and which ones only get mentioned when something goes wrong.
So the photographs on this page are lit like the kids in them matter, because they do. No one is shot from above. No one is asked to look sad for a fundraiser. We do not sell hardship. We show a gym on a Tuesday and let it be enough.
Summer Hoops runs two divisions — fourth through sixth, and seventh through eighth. Both start the same way: a draft, a microphone, and a room that has to stop talking so a name can be heard.
Every child deserves opportunity, every family deserves hope, and every young person deserves a place where they can grow, be supported, and dream bigger. Jorge Conde, founder
Before anyone arrives, the floor gets swept and the jerseys get laid out in order. It is a small ceremony and nobody sees it. That is the point of a ceremony — it happens whether or not you are watching, so that when a kid walks in, the room is already ready for them.
Other programs build a board to decide who is good enough. Ours exists so that every kid who signed up can walk in and find themselves on a wall, in front of their friends, before a single ball is thrown.
and three hundred more. Live rosters are published the week of the draft.
Nothing here is filtered or dimmed for mood. Gym light is bright and a little green, and that is what the summer actually looked like. The luxury is the mount, the margin and the caption — the same respect a gallery gives a picture it paid for.
The foundation is a registered 501(c)(3). Gifts are tax-deductible. Here is what each one buys, in the plainest terms we can put it.
If you grew up here, you already know what it means to be counted. If you didn't, this is your invitation to help count somebody.
