Willie Banks was the No. 3 overall selection in the 1987 MLB draft, but after his pro career ended his life fell on hard times and he tried to drink himself to death. Just as he lost his family, he found a new one in a pair of strangers. Watch video
Willie Banks guzzled the final drops of tequila, tossing the empty bottle aside.
Once again he was drunk and alone.
A lifetime before, Banks had been the highest New Jersey player ever chosen in the Major League Baseball draft, selected No. 3 overall by the Twins in 1987, two slots behind Ken Griffey Jr. He made nearly $1.5 million over nine Big League seasons, which included a memorable September run with the Yankees in 1997.
But now he was broke and squatting in a house he no longer owned, the lights, heat and hot water shut off. He had become a recluse, hiding from friends and family who banged on the door, ever since his mother, Ethel Banks, died suddenly three years earlier. His mother's death, coupled with his retirement from baseball, left him hollow and considering suicide.
With no more alcohol on that cold night in January of 2009, Banks closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.
He saw his mother, wearing her favorite white-and-red T-shirt.
Then, she spoke.
"Get your ass off the couch," Ethel Banks told her son. "Start living your life again."
Willie Banks woke the next morning, shaken and sobbing.
"I've never had a dream that was so real," he said.
His mother's message snapped Banks from his haze, and it led to a decision that would save his life.
Four months later, Banks, at age 40, joined the Newark Bears minor league team and gave baseball one last shot. It was there he met Jim and JoAnn Domino, a married couple from Monroe who worked for the club.
Banks' stint with the Bears ended in less than two forgettable seasons, but his relationship with the Dominos would prove to be more valuable than any contract he ever signed.
Today, if you need to find the highest draft pick the state ever produced, the guy who became a legend in Jersey City before a winding pro career, just ring the Dominos.
Banks has been living in their basement the past seven years.
'URBAN VERSION OF THE NATURAL'
Growing up in Jersey City, Banks encountered wave after wave of tragedy. When he was four, he said, his mother's cousin was shot and killed with Banks just a few feet away.
He's been haunted ever since.
"I'll tell you the truth," Banks said, "I haven't slept good since I was 4 years old."
When he was 10, seven friends and family members, including four children and two teenagers, were killed in a fire that destroyed his family's apartment building at 54 Bright Street.
Then at 14, his family moved into the notorious Curries Woods housing projects, a high rise where shootings, stabbings and drug dealing never seemed to stop. Banks called the projects "a nightmare."
Powerful and fast, Banks found a safe haven with sports. He went to St. Anthony High, playing for legendary basketball coach Bob Hurley and baseball coach Mike Hogan. Also, one of Jersey City's most colorful characters and a pro baseball scout, Ed "The Faa" Ford, trained Banks and kept him busy.
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"Mr. Ford would say, 'All right kid, hop out my car,'" Banks remembered. "So I'm running like I'm a boxer all around these neighborhoods and he's like, 'Come on! Catch up!'"
The steady guidance of Ford, Hogan and Hurley helped Banks get the most out of his athletic gifts. But it was his mother's influence that mattered most. His father was rarely around, and Hogan described Banks' two older brothers as "knuckleheads." But when Ethel Banks spoke, Willie snapped to attention.
"She did everything for him," Hogan remembered. "They didn't have anything, but she gave him what she could."
Banks went on to capture three state titles with the Friars basketball team, and he did even better in baseball. As a 6-foot, 185-pound senior in 1987, Banks said he went 17-1 and was touching 95 mph with his fastball. He also employed a nasty curveball and a solid changeup on his way to being named Gatorade State Player of the Year.
"He was the urban version of 'The Natural,'" Hurley said.
For the MLB draft, Banks was rumored to go as high as No. 1 to the Mariners. Instead, they chose Griffey Jr., who would drill 630 homers over 22 seasons. This month, he will be inducted into the MLB Hall of Fame.
Banks' own pro career charted a significantly different course.
'THOUGHTS OF ENDING IT'
Banks made his MLB debut in 1991 with the Twins, becoming a starter from the beginning. But after three up-and-down seasons in which he went 15-16 with a 4.61 earned-run average, Minnesota traded him to the Cubs.
It marked the beginning of a nomadic existence for Banks, who played for seven teams over nine seasons, in addition to a stint in Japan. Banks always had the stuff to strike out top hitters, but he was plagued by wildness and inconsistency.
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"He had three pitches -- it wasn't like he just threw hard and relied on a fastball," Hogan said. "But it's just a different level."
Banks played his final MLB season with the Red Sox in 2002, then joined the Newark Bears for his first go-around with the club in 2004. The following year he seemed done with baseball and drifted aimlessly.
"I thought I could play forever," Banks said. "That was one of the hardest things for me to deal with."
Baseball had been Banks' identity since he was a teenager, and without the game he was lost. He also didn't know how to properly manage his finances because during his career, he said, agents and team personnel always had handled the details for him. In 2006, the bank opened a foreclosure case against him, seeking to seize his five-bedroom home in Jamesburg, according to housing records.
Then tragedy struck later that year, when Ethel Banks died unexpectedly following complications from hysterectomy surgery, according to Willie Banks. Ethel Banks was 61.
Her death sent Willie Banks spiraling.
"He really detached himself from a lot of people," said Rubin Rodriguez, one of his closest friends. "He wasn't playing baseball. He didn't have his mother. That's when I was really concerned."
Banks would lock the door to his home, close the curtains and down tequila and whiskey until passing out. He would hide in silence when friends banged on the door.
The foreclosure case was dropped and the house was sold in February of 2007, but Banks said he didn't make any money from the deal because he was swindled by a middle-man. He said he refused to leave, staying for months in the house even after the heat and hot water were shut off.
"I was having thoughts of ending it," Banks said. "I didn't realize what I was doing, didn't care what I was doing because my mother was such an influential part of my life. She was my best friend. When she passed away I felt like I had nobody left."
Before Banks could hurt himself, he drained a bottle of tequila and had a dream.
Soon, he would meet the couple that filled the void in his life.
'AN ADOPTED SON'
Banks needed a ride to work. He was squatting in the Jamesburg house, and the Dominos lived a town over in Monroe. So when he lost his license after a traffic violation in 2009, the Dominos' son, James, who worked as a batboy with the Bears, began driving Banks to games.
Soon, Jim and JoAnn Domino learned Banks, who was 40 at the time, was living in a nearby house with no heat or hot water.
"I said, 'Well, tell him to come here,'" JoAnn Domino remembered. "There was no hesitation."
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The Dominos invited Banks to live in their basement walkout and he quickly agreed. The space has a bathroom, kitchenette and living quarters, but the Dominos have never charged him a dollar in rent.
How could they? The Dominos now consider Banks family.
"He's almost become an adopted son," Jim Domino said. "It's just keeping him going like a mother or father would their own kid."
When Banks needed to buy a car and didn't have the credit to satisfy the dealership, the Dominos co-signed for his loan. Then, they set up his monthly automatic withdrawal payments. They encourage him to save his money and stay on top of what he does day to day.
"Sometimes he can still be like a little kid," JoAnn Domino said. "But he was never taught. He went to the Major Leagues, made a lot of money, shipped his money off and was never taught anything else. To me, he was taken advantage of by everybody."
JoAnn Domino said she buys Banks whole milk, cheddar cheese and Frosted Flakes from the grocery store. In turn, Banks does everything from drive the family's ill cat to the vet to looking after JoAnn Domino's handicapped sister.
Their relationship became even deeper once the Dominos bought Toms River Sports Academy in 2010 and brought Banks on as an instructor. The Dominos say Banks' name value and MLB experience has been invaluable in driving business. He teaches private lessons, works with various softball and baseball teams and comes to work each day wearing an infectious smile.
Banks makes a living from working at the academy, and he said he also collects a MLB pension.
"They just took care of me," Banks said. "If it wasn't for them, I don't know where I would be. They took me in like I was their own."
His life back on steady ground, Banks has never thought about leaving his place with the Dominos. He found them for a reason, he believes. And the Dominos feel the same.
"It's like, 'Why leave?' They're family," Banks said. "When you grow to love people, it's hard to go. They brought me that stability back because I was a lost cause."
NJ Advance Media librarian Vinessa Erminio contributed to this report.
Matthew Stanmyre may be reached at mstanmyre@njadvancemedia.com. Follow him on Twitter @MattStanmyre. Find NJ.com on Facebook.