On this West Virginia Morning, most outdoor sporting gear gets thrown away when it wears out. But in western North Carolina, one climber-turned-crafter is giving old equipment a new purpose.
On this West Virginia Morning, most outdoor sporting gear gets thrown away when it wears out. But in western North Carolina, one climber-turned-crafter is giving old equipment a new purpose. Folkways reporter Emily Chen-Newton brings this story.
This week’s premiere episode of Mountain Stage was recorded live at the Joan C. Edwards Performing Arts Center in Huntington. Nashville banjo artist Kyle Tuttle performed work from his new solo album, “Labor of Lust.” His piece “Hard to Say,” which comes from that album, is our Song of the Week.
Also in this episode, a Democrat running for the West Virginia Senate was left off of one county’s early voting ballot. Briana Heaney has the details.
West Virginia Morning is a production of West Virginia Public Broadcasting which is solely responsible for its content.
Support for our news bureaus comes from Shepherd University and Marshall University School of Journalism and Mass Communications.
Appalachia Health News is a project of West Virginia Public Broadcasting with support from Marshall Health.
West Virginia Morning is produced with help from Bill Lynch, Briana Heaney, Caelan Bailey, Chris Schulz, Curtis Tate, Emily Rice, Eric Douglas, Jack Walker, Liz McCormick, Maria Young and Randy Yohe.
Eric Douglas is our news director. Teresa Wills is our host. Maria Young produced this episode.
Listen to West Virginia Morning weekdays at 7:43 a.m. on WVPB Radio or subscribe to the podcast and never miss an episode. #WVMorning
On this West Virginia Morning, sports can unite teammates from all different backgrounds. But in the next episode of Us & Them, host Trey Kay looks at one way sports can drive us apart.
On this West Virginia Morning, sports can unite teammates from all different backgrounds. But in the next episode of Us & Them, host Trey Kay looks at one way sports can drive us apart.
Allegations of discrimination in youth football were raised by a West Virginia lawsuit, highlighting questions about who is allowed to play. Kay spoke with Olobunmi Kusimo Fraser, a lawyer who handled the case, in the latest episode of Us & Them: “Is The Playing Field Fair?”
Also in this episode, new research is examining how rural Appalachians feel about the usage of their land for solar energy. The Allegheny Front, a Pittsburgh-based public radio program that reports on environmental issues in the region, brings us this story.
Plus, the West Virginia Legislature adjourned this year’s second special session Tuesday evening. Reporters Briana Heaney and Caelan Bailey recap what happened at the Capitol.
West Virginia Morning is a production of West Virginia Public Broadcasting, which is solely responsible for its content.
Support for our news bureaus comes from Shepherd University and Marshall University School of Journalism and Mass Communications.
Maria Young produced this episode.
Listen to West Virginia Morning weekdays at 7:43 a.m. on WVPB Radio or subscribe to the podcast and never miss an episode. #WVMorning
Sports in America often sit at the crossroads of social, cultural, and racial debates. From controversial referee calls to athletes taking a knee during the national anthem, the conversation extends from little league to the pros. In this episode, we explore how sports and race intersect in a Kanawha County youth football league.
Sports in America often sit at the crossroads of social, cultural, and racial debates. From controversial referee calls to athletes taking a knee during the national anthem, the conversation extends from little league to the pros. In this episode, we explore how sports and race intersect in a Kanawha County youth football league.
We love our sports in America.
From little league to professional competition, athletic teams can bring us together. However sports can also spotlight some of our most pointed social, culture and racial debates. Mascot names drive a wedge between fans. Some athletes choose to display their opinions about political candidates or police violence.
In this episode of Us & Them, host Trey Kay looks at the intersection of race and sports. Lawsuits over youth football in West Virginia have highlighted questions between teams and leagues over who’s allowed to play and whether young Black and brown athletes face discrimination. While some parents accuse the youth leagues of foul play, the leagues say some parents are simply not following the rules.
This episode of Us & Them is presented with support from the West Virginia Humanities Council, the Greater Kanawha Valley Foundation, and the Daywood Foundation.
Subscribe to Us & Them on Apple Podcasts, NPR One, RadioPublic, Spotify, Stitcher and beyond.
The Charleston Cougars football team is not allowed to play in their local league in Kanawha County, West Virginia. To compete, they must travel over an hour to face teams in Parkersburg or even Ohio. Coach Rayshawn Hall explains that the travel is a financial strain for some parents and a challenge for others who need to take time off work. When Us & Them host Trey Kay asked Hall how it feels not being able to play locally, he responded, “Weird. It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel like home. Even when we have home games, it doesn’t feel the same. Nothing feels the same.”
In the fall of 2013, Olubunmi Kusimo-Frazier was asked to represent a youth football team from the West Side of Charleston, W.Va. that had been barred from a Kanawha County football league in West Virginia. The team, part of a club league not governed by a school system or any single authority, had nowhere to play that season. Each league has its own bylaws and requirements, often run by parent volunteers, which can lead to inconsistencies and confusion when new teams join. It also opens the door to potential unfair practices.
Kusimo-Frazier said all the teams were originally part of one league, but when that league disbanded and formed a new one, existing teams were invited to reapply for membership. However, some teams were not accepted, including those with a high concentration of African-American and mixed-race players. To Kusimo-Frazier and the affected teams, the exclusion appeared racially motivated.
She filed a civil rights lawsuit to allow the excluded teams to play. The suit, against the Kanawha County Board of Education, sought to prevent the league from using school property for games unless all teams—representing all citizens—were allowed to participate. Kusimo-Frazier noted that while private clubs can discriminate against non-members on private property, an organization cannot enforce discriminatory practices on public property.
The case was settled without an evidentiary hearing, but Kusimo-Frazier said she felt confident in the legal theory of her case.
But why were these teams excluded in the first place?
Kusimo-Frazier recalled that many around the league didn’t like how certain parents behaved during games.
“They didn’t like the way the parents acted. They felt the parents were sometimes vulgar,” she said. “This is a Sunday morning, and they didn’t want to deal with rowdy parents. They wanted a more congenial atmosphere, with good sportsmanship. They didn’t like that the coaches would curse in front of the children.”
However, she believes there was another factor. The excluded teams had a history of success on the field.
“When you look at who was winning championships before the league was restructured, it was [the excluded teams]—year after year. I think they got tired of it.”
Redman, who is Black, has a mixed-race son who has played youth football for three years. He says he’s seen situations similar to the 2013 lawsuit brought by Olubunmi Kusimo-Frazier, although some issues are more about leadership than race.
“There are so many layers to this onion,” Redman says. “The most recent issue wasn’t about color—it was about leadership. People were upset because we were winning by 40 points with a team of talented kids from across the city. After we went undefeated, there were suddenly issues with the paperwork, and the majority-Black team was disqualified.”
The “books” Redman refers to are the paperwork each player must have, such as a birth certificate, medical clearance, and proof of address. A player must have a waiver to join a team outside their zone. After his team’s undefeated season, the league cited problems with some players’ paperwork.
“We went to court and got permission to play in the playoffs, but it didn’t work out for us. After the court hearing, teams left to join a different league, and the league basically dissolved. The following year, we won the championship again, but they disqualified us because a player had participated in middle school football,” Redman says.
Because of the rules violation on one team, all three of Redman’s teams were disqualified. His wife, Tiffany Davis Redman, also a lawyer, filed an injunction, allowing the other teams to continue playing.
Attorney Olubunmi Kusimo-Frazier reflected on the disqualifications, comparing them to voter suppression tactics.
“It feels like a poll tax—like keeping the wrong people from voting,” Kusimo-Frazier says. “Instead of educating and helping people follow the rules, they make it exclusive. Why kick people out instead of guiding them to do it right?”
Knapp, who is white, says his team is about 90% white this year. He explains that players must get a waiver to switch teams, including kids from travel leagues whose seasons end in the middle of the youth football season.
In 2021, before Knapp became a coach, South Hills allowed several travel team players to join midseason, which led to them dominating other teams. This upset parents, prompting league presidents to agree on stricter rules for waivers and transfers.
When the next season began, several players from South Hills wanted to transfer to the Charleston Cougars but were denied due to the timing. The decision caused outrage, leading to racial accusations against the South Hills president and threats that escalated to police involvement.
Knapp insists the issue wasn’t racial but a matter of following rules. “It wasn’t about race—it came down to rules,” Knapp said, explaining that travel teams have both Black and white players. “But on social media, it turned into a racial issue.”
To avoid conflict, South Hills canceled a game against Charleston, and later, the team withdrew from the playoffs. The controversy contributed to South Hills’ decision to leave the league, as they believed other teams weren’t adhering to the agreed-upon rules.
Knapp acknowledges the inconsistency in leadership year over year, as new board members and coaches take over when others leave. Despite this, he says many coaches and volunteers go out of their way to support the kids, even buying equipment or helping them with schoolwork.
At the end of the day, Knapp, like Trent Redman, says that every time something like this happens, teams leave the league—and it’s the kids who lose out.
Rayshawn Hall has played football since he was 5 years old and believes in the value of bringing kids from different backgrounds together through sports.
“I met a lot of people through playing sports, even some of my best friends, whether they were white or Black,” Hall said. “It didn’t matter. Once we came together, it was like a brotherhood. I don’t know what they did outside of sports, but when we were together, that’s all that mattered.”
North Raleigh Street funnels traffic from downtown Martinsburg to U.S. Route 11. But peel onto a half-paven path near the train tracks and you will find pops of color peeking through the overgrowth.
For more than a decade, skateboarders walked this route, boards in tow, to reach the local skate spot. The city’s indoor skating venue had closed due to financial concerns in 2013, just four years into operation. Skaters were not ready to put down their boards, so they scouted out the abandoned lot uptown.
And Martinsburg’s “do-it-yourself” skatepark was born.
Local skaters regularly gathered on the empty stretch of pavement, and reached an understanding with its property owner to keep the space clean and trouble free. Then came the rails and hand-poured concrete ramps, all on their own dime.
More than ten years later, the DIY park is a sight to behold, with sprawling spray-paint murals and features of all kinds. Just one thing is missing: the skaters.
A recent change in the property’s ownership led the park to fall out of use. But it has also reinvigorated county-wide calls for something permanent.
A skate scene, but no skatepark
Many of Mark Peacemaker’s early skateboarding experiences began with a carpool; his buddies piling gear into minivans and bumping elbows in the backseat.
Parents took turns driving them to skating venues in Frederick, a city in Maryland about forty miles east of his hometown. The trips were fun, but today they remind Peacemaker of how far he had to travel to access action sports as a preteen in Martinsburg.
“Growing up in the panhandle of West Virginia at the time I did, there weren’t as many amenities around,” he said.
Back in the 2000s, Peacemaker said skaters were viewed as trouble, a sentiment that traces back decades.
In 1991, the City of Martinsburg banned skateboarding on public property. This meant police could snatch boards from skaters doing tricks in the local park, or nail them with fines just for riding down the street.
“I ended up with some stuff on my record that really didn’t help me out, and took some other friends of mine in some bad directions,” he said. “The first strike of that was skating in public places.”
When the city skatepark closed in 2013, Peacemaker and his friends said gathering someplace else seemed obvious. They did not necessarily have bigger plans in mind.
“We were all kids, so I think everyone within the scene just congregated back there and organically started to make stuff to skate on,” he said.
But news about the spot spread, giving rise to a whole community of DIY skaters, like those that have popped up around the world in areas without public skate spots. From a run-down tennis court in Maryland to an abandoned strip mall in Texas, skaters far and wide have converted derelict urban spaces into grassroots parks.
Martinsburg Mayor Kevin Knowles said the local DIY skaters never caused problems, and were not the city’s responsibility to monitor.
“It didn’t affect us one way or another, because the liability wasn’t falling on us,” he said. “The liability was falling on the individual that was allowing them to do that.”
The DIY skatepark became well known in the local community, hosting recurring park cleanups and competitions called “skate jams.” The events brought out dozens of community members, at times even including Mayor Knowles.
“Watching what they’ve been doing over there at the DIY, they made some really great progress,” he said. “But they didn’t own the property.”
For Knowles, a lack of formal ownership over the skatepark put its long-term viability into question. When a new owner bought the property last year, the city got an answer.
Under new ownership
In November 2023, Tim Pool, an online conservative commentator based in Harpers Ferry, purchased the DIY skatepark property.
This September, Pool made national headlines when the Justice Department said a company he was affiliated with had taken money from Russian state media to spread propaganda. Pool has stated he was unaware of any such scheme.
Back in West Virginia, Pool’s profile was growing, too. He and skatepark regulars disagreed about how the spot was used, but no Martinsburg skaters who spoke to West Virginia Public Broadcasting for this story agreed to discuss the situation.
Regardless, the fallout again left Martinsburg residents with nowhere to skate. Knowles said he is unsure where they ended up.
“I don’t know where anybody is going at this point. I’m not seeing a huge running, within the city, of people on skateboards,” he said. “So they’re going somewhere. They’re not coming to the city of Martinsburg right now.”
But Peacemaker said he knows where they went: back to out-of-state venues in Maryland and Virginia, like the ones he frequented growing up. Skaters in the Eastern Panhandle again must decide between driving tens of miles out of the city or simply putting away their boards.
“There’s tons of parks around, man. Martinsburg’s kind of like that center point that doesn’t have one,” Peacemaker said.
Peacemaker pointed to the Hagerstown Skatepark, a Maryland venue about 25 miles from downtown Martinsburg, as a vision of what local skaters want for their own community: a permanent place to skate, funded by local officials. And their idea is gaining traction.
Pushing for something permanent
Last month, the Martinsburg City Council revoked their no-skateboarding ordinance after three decades.
Mayor Knowles and Joe Burton, executive director of Martinsburg-Berkeley County Parks & Recreation, acknowledged that skateboarders have historically been seen as troublesome by some members of the community because of their ties to an alternative scene.
“Skateboarders are their own type of people. They dress differently, they talk differently and their activities are a little different than other people’s,” Knowles said. “People just identify individuals by what they see, not what they know. So they see something different. They don’t like it.”
But Burton said officials in the Eastern Panhandle today think recreational activities like skateboarding can keep kids safe.
“With drug use or kids getting in different kinds of trouble, everything suggests that more activities help those problems. They don’t make it worse,” he said. “So more safe, recreational activities are a good thing to add to the community.”
Joshua McCormick, another Martinsburg DIY skater, agrees. He said there is something meditative in the rhythm of the sport.
“You’re constantly falling. You’re falling, but you don’t give up,” he said. “It’s all worth it for that little bit of joy of landing a trick and having your homies shout you out and cheer for you.”
Knowles and Burton said the city and county governments are actively looking to secure property and funding to build a public skatepark for the local community. The project follows years of advocacy from people like Peacemaker, who have spoken to local officials about the benefits of increasing access to recreational opportunities like skateboarding.
Knowles said they have identified a potential location for the skatepark “close to the downtown corridor on the outskirts of our trail system,” but that a place has not been finalized. The project will be publicly funded by both the city and county governments, he said.
“It’s going to be a perfect addition, the one that does come to fruition,” Knowles said. “It’s going to happen, we just have to make sure we have the right land, and we have to make sure about the finances.”
The Martinsburg and Berkeley County governments have also not finalized a timeline for the park’s construction, but said they are in conversation with Peacemaker and other local skaters for the project.
McCormick said skaters are willing to travel far distances for a skatepark, which means the project could increase local tourism, too.
“We had people from Baltimore, Frederick — all over the quad-state area come to our little DIY,” he said. “Another public park in the area would be a great thing.”
It could be a while before a permanent park is actually up and running, but Peacemaker and McCormick say knowing one is coming is a relief. The DIY spot had charm, but did not supplant the community’s practical need for a public, government-funded park, they said.
For now, the skaters are glad they will not have to pour time, money and more concrete into the DIY skatepark.
“We’re finally going to have something new in a really beautiful setting that’s going to be personalized and public and open for everyone,” Peacemaker said. “It’s a safe space that’s legal, and it’s never gonna go away.”
On this West Virginia Morning, there’s no public skatepark in Martinsburg, so locals spent a decade building one from scratch. And they’re not alone: Skaters nationwide are adding ramps and rails to abandoned lots, calling them DIY skateparks.
Reporter Jack Walker visited the “do-it-yourself” park in Martinsburg. He talked to skaters about the spot, plus a push for something permanent.
Plus, how do government and emergency response agencies make sure people with disabilities are safe during chemical or oil spills? We hear from The Allegheny Front, a Pittsburgh-based public radio program focused on environmental issues in the region.
Also in this episode, we dive into the latest from the West Virginia Legislature’s interim session following several committee meetings Sunday.
West Virginia Morning is a production of West Virginia Public Broadcasting, which is solely responsible for its content.
Support for our news bureaus comes from Shepherd University and Marshall University School of Journalism and Mass Communications.
Eric Douglas produced this episode.
Listen to West Virginia Morning weekdays at 7:43 a.m. on WVPB Radio or subscribe to the podcast and never miss an episode. #WVMorning
For decades, skateboarding in Martinsburg meant risking financial penalties. But times appear to have changed.
During its regular Thursday meeting, the Martinsburg City Council voted unanimously to repeal a no-skateboarding ordinance passed in February 1991.
“No person shall ride a skateboard on any public road, street or alley, pedestrian plaza, public park or municipal park, or any public parking lot owned by the City,” read a now-defunct ordinance of the Martinsburg Municipal Code.
Violators of the decades-old policy were subject to fines ranging from $20 to $100. The city was also permitted to seize the skateboards of those accused of violating the ordinance “until time of adjudication.”
Thursday’s unanimous vote brought no in-meeting discussion. But it comes as city officials — plus the Berkeley County government — continue months-long discussions on plans for a potential skatepark in Martinsburg.
No date or location has been finalized, and the construction of a skatepark is not yet guaranteed. But city and county officials have said sports and recreation infrastructure like a skatepark benefits the local community, and keeps youth away from unsafe pastimes.