Memoirs of a Team Manager With Mike Sinclair

Mike Sinclair
Mike Sinclair

Mike Sinclair, Fallen footwear team manager, steps up and delivers a great tail of incarceration. This time though, it wasn’t one of his team he was bailing out of jail, it was himself.

Sometimes being a team manager fucking sucks. I don’t really feel like going into detail about how stressful the job can get, but it does. You are responsible for everyone and everything from sun up to sun down. So the question is, what happens when the TM goes to jail and leaves the team to fend for themselves? Will they rise to the occasion and take care of you? This scenerio played out on a trip to Miami. I went to Jail and it sucked.

The story starts in some shitty part of Miami, I’m pretty sure the town was called Hialeah. The team and I peep a spot for 1 minute, we head back to the van and here comes a golf cart with 4 overweight idiots shining lights into our eyes. We didn’t run we just started to head back to the van and laugh amongst ourselves. The security guard tells me to stop the van, which I did. He orders me to put the van in park, and I had no problem with that either. So the van is now in park and the next order was to roll down my window, this seems easy enough so the window is now rolled down. The next order given was to step out of the van. At this point too many orders have been barked and I thought the security guard wanted to fight. His tone was getting firmer with every command so I was getting nervous. I just didn’t want to get out of the van. I was nice to the security guard and told him we were just looking at the handrail that I wasn’t able to skate anyway.

Mike Sinclair

Mike Sinclair spent some quality time in here.

Mike Sinclair

Mike Sinclair free at last!

I promised politely to never come back and I would never look at his handrails ever again. I put the car in drive and slowly began to drive away. The security guard got heated and started yelling some shit as we crept off. I made it about 2 miles down the road and suddenly I was swarmed by 20 cop cars at gunpoint, the whole nine. Everyone got searched and the whole process took about two hours. The security guard turns out to be an off duty sergeant who was pissed that I did not obey his commands. How the fuck was I suppose to know he was an off duty cop? Anyway the 20 plus cops wanted to let me go but the sergeant who was being radioed into was being difficult. The sergeant felt that I did not obey his orders because he was black. Shit I had Terell with me ain’t that good enough? Terell is kind of white boy-ish so that shit backfired instantly.

I spend the next eight hours in a holding cell. Just when I thought I was getting let go, I was shackled to another inmate who was pretty damn thuggish and transferred to the Miami jail. Shit was a lot rougher in the Miami Jail. I didn’t fuck with anybody and nobody fucked with me. I prayed that I didn’t have to take a shit. The toilet was just out in the open and all you could do is stare at it the same way you stare at someone using a blowtorch. The jail cell had beds for 50 people but I counted 72 people creeping in the cell. Shit was mad packed with losers and I seemed to be the biggest one, holding in my turds and not having a bed to claim. I got a weird mystery meat sandwich and some kool aid with no sugar to help me stay alive that night.

Mike Sinclair

Mike Sinclair’s court doc.

None of the guards could tell me shit. I had no idea how long I would be here, where is the team, what the fuck is going on, and who I could call. After about 8 more hours people started to talk to me. One dude that was about 50 years old was in for a domestic dispute. Homie wasn’t getting out anytime soon, he was in for 40 plus days already. He told me I would probably get timed served and be on my way soon. I had no idea what was really going on and by this time I was delirious. Up all night looking for handrails, to a holding cell and now the Miami Jail? 10 more hours passed, I still didn’t get a bed but my named was called. YES, I’m fucking out of here.

Nope, I got to go to trial. What? Yep, trial, in front of a judge and plead my sorry ass case. This shit is getting fucked up and it all seemed surreal. But here I am, standing up, pleading with a judge on a video screen. I was being held for resisting arrest without violence. The judge dismissed my case after I explained to him I was looking for a place to skateboard but I never did skateboard mainly because I’m really not that good at it. As soon as my case was over I spent another four hours in a waiting cell while my paperwork was being processed, but at the time I had no idea why I was waiting. Where is the team? Have the filmed anything? Are they partying? Are they injured? Did anyone quit? Do they even know I’m gone? As soon as I was released Chris Cole, Mike Gilbert and Shigeo were there to pick me up. I have never been so happy to see those guys in my life, I was over Miami and being in jail. I went to the hotel, showered up, got some food and was back at another handrail mission like I never missed a beat. When a cop asks you to get out of the car just fucking do it. Being a team manager rules but going to jail over some bullshit is straight up bullshit.

CHRIS COLE enjoys a KICKFLIP BOARDSLIDE while his Team Manager Mike Sinclair sits in jail.

CHRIS COLE enjoys a KICKFLIP BOARDSLIDE while his Team Manager sits in jail. SEQUENCE: SHIGEO

Chris Cole. Mike Sinclair

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