LaRon Armstead found salvation in basketball LaRon Armstead is a former college athlete, 6 feet 5 inches tall, 23 years old and physically imposing. Yet, standing outside Holmes Elementary in South Los Angeles, he is actually shivering - and not from the cold. He has returned to his old neighborhood for the first time in 10 years because an acquaintance has asked to see his childhood haunts. But he can't help himself. His body is physically reacting. "It's scary," he says, voice trembling. It reminds me of who I was and who I was on track to be. Armstead, the sixth of 13 children, was raised in the Pueblo Del Rio housing project, a place he says was shrouded by hopelessness, where drugs were sold at all hours and gunshots were part of the normal cacophony of life. His mother, father and oldest brother were affiliated with gangs. A buddy of his had brought drugs to this school. When he was 9. A little earlier, while being driven down 53rd Street, Armstead is so uncomfortable that he insists the car's windows be rolled all the way up. He sees the food stand where he bought tacos at midnight. He sees the park where he and his friends went to fight in the middle of the night. "We had no curfew," he says. The later you stayed out, the better it was. You could see people selling drugs. You could see all the things you wanted to do. Armstead recently went to visit his oldest brother, who is in prison, for the first time in about 10 years. He was told that four of his former friends, boys he hung out with in grade school and junior high, are also incarcerated. "I feel guilty," Armstead says, "that I made it out and others won't live anywhere else." How did he do it? It started with a listing on a bulletin board. A few months ago, in a ballroom at the historic Millennium Biltmore Hotel, civic leaders and local business titans gathered with a few Hollywood personalities for the Salvation Army's annual holiday fundraiser. All had dined on turkey and pumpkin pie. Now it was time to listen to the night's keynote speaker, a young man who, as he strode purposefully toward the podium to the sound of polite applause, few in the room recognized. Over the next 12 minutes, LaRon Armstead told his life's story in a way they would never forget, starting with his background as a middle school drug dealer. "While other kids were going to Disneyland, camping trips, having fun, me and my friend were dealing," he said. As a seventh-grader, selling marijuana had put hundreds of dollars in his pocket, and Armstead spoke about his reputation as a gangbanger and fighter - and of his turning point: the day a friend spotted a notice promoting a three-on-three basketball tournament and signed Armstead up to be part of the team. He was not a natural athlete. He recalls his team scoring one basket the entire tournament. But it didn't matter. He had fun and found encouragement from a couple of the men who were organizers of the event. Over time, they helped him completely change his path.