Since COVID-19, Wohl hasn't been the same. Because of the pandemic restrictions, pickup games were cut, and the leagues have shrunk. Maybe that will come back in the future. It's not clear. Nettles says he's "easing it back."
There are still adult leagues at Wohl, including a 40-and-over league, but most of the leagues and pickup moved away from Wohl. Now, Nettles runs high school leagues at Tandy Recreation Center or Cardinal Ritter College Prep. This way, people like Coach Stephon can run workouts for six-year-olds at Wohl, and Nettles can run a league for high schoolers at Tandy.
"You need multiple gyms to try to help everybody," Nettles says. "If we keep everything at Wohls? Wohl's area is good. What about Gamble [rec center]? What about 12th & Park? What about Tandy?"
But that doesn't mean Wohl is empty. Summer camps fill the building all summer. Boxers pound bags upstairs, and students study in the computer lab.
Nettles has a stable of volunteers who run workouts at Wohl during the afternoons and evenings. One of those people is Stephon King, Coach Stephon, Nettles' former player, who still looks like he could be a Wohl kid at 28 years old, with a little scruff covering his youthful face.
For the last seven years, King has been coaching at Wohl. He has a wife and kids. He works a full-time job as a manager at QuikTrip. "In my spare time, I come here," he says, laughing. "Which is a lot of time." On a regular basis, his kids, wife, mom, nephew and older brother watch him coach from the sideline or participate in the drills. His son, Lil Steph, zig-zags from basket to basket like a wind-up toy in a black tank top. The ball appears bigger than his body, but he slingshots it from his hip and it goes in, a lot.
King has been coming to Wohl since — well, he doesn't really know. Maybe since he was three? His mom needed somewhere to send her kids. Everyone in his family went here. It's where they hung out with friends, shot pool in the multipurpose room, took karate class and played basketball. He was coached by Nettles, Johnson and anyone else who showed up. "We was just here," King says. "And that made us better."
Even when King moved away from the area, he took the bus every day to Wohl. If he couldn't catch the bus, one of the coaches picked him up.
"This is my home," King says. "I say my home was my second home. This is my first home because I was here so much."
But it's more than just a basketball facility. Leave the gym at 7 p.m., while the sun is setting over Wohl, and boom. You'll see people everywhere. Quite literally everywhere. There won't be an empty spot in the parking lot. Little girls dance and yell in high-pitched voices against a rec-center wall during cheerleading practice. Parents watch peewee football. Little-league players field ground balls on baseball fields sprouting weeds. Kids climb on the playground. Adults lean against their cars, smiling, chatting and reminiscing.
In the heart of north St. Louis, where outsiders say crime is rampant, homes are vacant and parks are dangerous, the Wohl Center buzzes with life.