A Game, A Tribute, A Legacy: Honoring Lawrence Moten in the City He Loved
SYRACUSE, N.Y. - Ethan Mekhi-Bennings hadn’t cried in years. Not when life got tough.
Not even when he lost someone close. But on Saturday, inside a gym full of memories and meaning, the tears finally came.
Mekhi-Bennings, a forward for Digital Pioneers Academy (DPA), a charter high school in Washington, D.C., had formed a deep bond with Syracuse legend Lawrence Moten over the summer. They shared more than just a jersey number. They shared rides to open gyms, a love for the game, and a connection that stretched far beyond the court.
Moten, Syracuse’s all-time leading scorer and one of the most respected figures to ever wear Orange, had taken a new role in June as general manager for DPA’s basketball program. He jumped into the job the same way he lived his life - full speed, all heart. His mission was simple: mentor, uplift, and guide.
For Mekhi-Bennings, those car rides with Moten were more than transportation. They were masterclasses in basketball and life.
One day, Moten casually dropped a story about playing against Michael Jordan. Skeptical, Mekhi-Bennings laughed it off - until Moten told him to reach into the backseat.
Inside a folder was a photo: Moten and MJ, going head-to-head. The real deal.
But in late September, everything changed. Moten was found dead in his D.C. home.
He was 53. The news hit hard - not just for DPA, but for the entire Syracuse basketball community.
For Mekhi-Bennings, the grief was physical. He felt it in his body, but he held it in.
He was supposed to be one of the strong ones, one of the guys who held the team together.
Months passed. The questions lingered.
Why did this happen? How?
Then came Saturday. DPA traveled to Syracuse to play Nottingham High School - a game Moten himself had scheduled before his passing.
It was meant to be a celebration of the connection between his two basketball homes: Syracuse and D.C. After his death, the game became something more - a tribute.
Nobody wanted to cancel. Both schools understood what this moment meant.
It wasn’t just a game. It was a way to honor the man who had shaped so many lives.
Before tipoff, the gym fell silent. A video tribute played on the scoreboard.
Rob Harris, DPA’s athletic director and Moten’s high school teammate, addressed the crowd. So did Lazarus Sims, Moten’s former point guard at Syracuse.
A moment of silence followed. That’s when Mekhi-Bennings broke.
The weight he’d carried for months finally spilled out in tears.
“I can’t play,” he told an administrator. The emotion was overwhelming.
But the coaches reminded him: Moten wouldn’t want you on the sideline. He’d want you on the floor. So Mekhi-Bennings suited up and played - for Moten.
The game itself was secondary, though Nottingham came out strong, topping DPA 54-37 behind 26 points from Bol Garang and 15 from Dei’Avion Camby. The Bulldogs’ defense was relentless, but the night was about something bigger than a box score.
Every player, every coach wore orange and white warmup shirts with “Poetry 21” across the front - a nod to Moten’s smooth style and iconic jersey number - and “Moten 2,334” on the back, representing his career points scored at Syracuse. The shirts were ordered by DPA founder and CEO Mashea Ashton and shipped to Syracuse for the occasion.
Moten’s absence this season has been deeply felt across the city. He was a fixture at camps, clinics, and open gyms.
He wasn’t just a former star - he was a mentor, a motivator, a presence. Nottingham head coach Lamar Kearse brought him in regularly to speak with his players.
Moten didn’t just talk about basketball; he talked about life. The mental side.
The grind. The bigger picture.
“Every day is an audition,” he used to say. That stuck with players like Nottingham point guard Deyor Smith, who said Moten’s passing hit him hard. “Just him being around all the time - that hit hard emotionally.”
When Harris first approached Moten about joining DPA, he asked him to coach. Moten declined.
He wanted to be general manager. That way, he could reach more kids, touch more lives.
That was the mission. That was always the mission.
“We grew up that way,” Sims said. “If you grew up in the inner city, you already know somebody helped you.
If you understand it, then when you get to a point, then you give back. That’s just how we were all raised.”
Moten believed that mentorship couldn’t always come from inside the home or from the coach’s whistle. Sometimes it had to come from someone who’d walked the walk.
Someone who understood. Someone like him.
“He wanted to see it where nobody was left out,” Harris said. “Everybody was included. Whether you were going to be a Division I player or you were going to start your career after high school.”
Even with a flight change the day before and a bus that wouldn’t start in the bitter cold Saturday morning - negative 21-degree wind chill - DPA made it to Syracuse. They weren’t going to miss this. Not for anything.
Harris hopes this becomes more than a one-time event. He’s already talking about bringing Nottingham down to D.C. next year.
Keep the connection alive. Keep the legacy going.
If Moten had been there Saturday, what would he have done?
“He would walk around like he’s the man, shaking everybody’s hand,” Harris said with a smile. “And then these young boys dunking? He might even get over there and start dunking.
“Our goal now is to make sure this continues in his honor.”
Lawrence Moten may be gone, but his impact is still echoing - in the gyms of Syracuse, in the hearts of D.C. kids, and in every player who pulls on a jersey and remembers why they play.