After doubt and depression, Anthony finds answers

A black SUV pulled up in front of a youth detention center in Northeast Washington on a hot August afternoon. NBA veteran Carmelo Anthony hopped out of the car, wearing a hoodie, sweatpants and a crisp pair of Nike Air Force 1s. It was the entrance of a future Hall of Famer, but Anthony carried himself in a way that would make you feel as if you’ve known him your whole life.

He walked through the glass doors before passing through a metal detector and then cramming into a small elevator that took him up to the Youth Services Center gym, where tables and chairs were set up on the court. Moments later, his audience — a group of 16- and 17-year-old incarcerated boys — entered the room. Their eyes grew big as they took in the presence of a worldwide superstar and a member of the NBA’s 75th Anniversary Team.

The kids were a part of the Free Minds Book Club and Writing Workshop, a nonprofit organization that works with incarcerated and formerly incarcerated youths and adults. After reading Anthony’s memoir, “Where Tomorrows Aren’t Promised,” which was co-written with bestselling Baltimore author D. Watkins and published last year, they were going to have a discussion with the former first-round pick.

Anthony, 38, leaned slightly back in his chair and began detailing his life in Baltimore, when he had to watch his back and was afraid to express himself. For a moment, it felt like his 10 All-Star appearances and 2012-13 NBA scoring title hadn’t happened yet.

“I’ve been in your shoes before,” he told them. “I’ve come from where y’all come from. I’ve walked the same pavement.”

For years, Anthony has not felt comfortable talking about his childhood in Red Hook, Brooklyn, and the former Murphy Homes in West Baltimore. But as he approaches his 20th season in the NBA, Anthony’s ready to tell his story.

“It’s a sigh of relief,” he said. “(There) was so much that I kept bundled up, thinking I was doing the right thing by masking my emotions and not letting anyone know how I feel. I dealt with that for so long.”

Anthony’s career is something many young hoopers only dream of. After becoming an elite high school prospect at the former Towson Catholic and at Oak Hill Academy in Virginia, Anthony led Syracuse to a national title as a freshman. He was selected third overall by the Denver Nuggets in the 2003 NBA draft, becoming part of one of the best classes in league history along with LeBron James, Dwyane Wade and Chris Bosh.

Anthony was a dominant player in Denver, playing with Marcus Camby, Kenyon Martin and Allen Iverson before joining the New York Knicks and starring at Madison Square Garden for seven seasons. After his tenure with the Knicks, Anthony played for the Oklahoma City Thunder, the Houston Rockets, the Portland Trail Blazers and, most recently, the Los Angeles Lakers, climbing to ninth on the league’s alltime scoring list.

Amid the 50-point nights and clutch moments that will be talked about long after his career ends, Anthony would ask himself why he was chosen to make it out of Baltimore, where he once earned money as a squeegee worker.

“‘OK, I made it. I’m here, so stop questioning yourself,’ ” he said. “But then something would happen and I would be like, ‘Why me?’ Now I’m back at that mentality, which I worked hard to get away from. The minute someone says something, I’m like, ‘Damn, do I deserve this? Is this really happening to me?’ I try to alleviate as much of that now, but it’s hard.”

Anthony’s early life was a struggle. Growing up in public housing in West Baltimore, he grew accustomed to losing friends and loved ones, cars lining up on his block monthly for funerals, and dribbling a basketball on bloodstained concrete. Anthony said Baltimore had a different type of coldness where violence, pain and murder were part of the city’s makeup.

Towson Catholic, which he attended for three years, became his way to escape the streets. But it was a challenge to be himself there. As one of few minorities at the school, Anthony said his braids were considered a breach of school rules. Meanwhile, he had to deal with the worries of life in a housing project, something his classmates didn’t face. “I wanted to be me,” Anthony said. “I wanted to do what was best for me and the school didn’t understand that.”

He never knew how to talk about his pain, leading to lonely nights, as he had nowhere to go to express his feelings and emotions. Anthony said depression wasn’t discussed in his community, which is why he praises today’s world for being more open about mental health. “I (couldn’t) go to nobody and be like, ‘I’m depressed,’” he said. “They (would) be like, ‘Man, get out of here. Nobody is trying to hear that.’ ”

The therapy Anthony longed for came two decades later when he started writing. He didn’t realize all the things he kept hidden, but once he put pen to paper, he couldn’t stop. He felt a sense of relief reliving the stories of the past and wanted to show the world where he came from.

At the Youth Services Center on Aug. 5, Anthony’s conversation with the teens shifted from life in the hood to his career. They jokingly asked him about his stint with the Lakers, what happened to Russell Westbrook last season and playing against NBA champion and two-time Most Valuable Player Giannis Antetokounmpo.

Anthony’s neighborhood never presented hope for a life in the NBA, yet he’s on the verge of becoming the ninth player in league history to play at least 20 seasons, joining Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Kevin Garnett, Vince Carter, Dirk Nowitzki, Jamal Crawford, Robert Parish, Kevin Willis and the late Kobe Bryant.

Throughout his time in the NBA and competing in three Olympics, there was a sense of validation playing in front of soldout arenas and millions more on television and seeing fans across the globe wear his jersey. All Anthony wanted growing up was someone to validate what he was doing. The NBA provided that.

“You wanted to come outside with something fresh, and somebody be like, ‘Yo, that looks fly.’ We wanted that validation. The hood looks for that validation,” he said. “When I started seeing people with the jerseys, it was like, ‘Hey, I’m here.’ ”