Ask him to reflect on his life and journey and if he was a success, and Darrell Jackson might give it some pause before answering.

Only recently retired, Jackson, 66, is known around Downey for his formation of and subsequent work with the 10-20 Club, a local program aimed at intervention for youth at risk for joining gangs in support of Gangs Out of Downey (GOOD).

Yet for all the good work he did trying to keep kids on the straight and narrow, his own path wasn’t always so clear.

Jackson was born and raised in Los Angeles, just outside of the city of Compton. At the age of 12, he began playing baseball, which he describes as his “biggest interest and passion.”

“For some reason, even though I was undersized, I developed into a pretty good baseball player,” said Jackson. “Then when I went to high school, my baseball team, I was an integral part of that team, that included two future Hall of Famers: Eddie Murray and Ozzie Smith. We all graduated in the same class in 1973.”

Jackson’s talent caught the eye of the Minnesota Twins, who drafted him out of high school in the sixth round at the age of 17. However, Jackson’s father insisted that he go to school “in case baseball didn’t work out.”

“I had a number of scholarships to a couple of HBC’s, historic black colleges,” said Jackson. “I went to an all-black high school, so I said ‘Thank you, but no thank you.’ I also turned down UCLA because it was a partial scholarship.

“So, I ended up going to Arizona State University on a full scholarship to play baseball.”

Jackson would play at ASU for four years, appearing in the College World Series three times and clinching the title in his senior year.

Despite his senior success, Jackson admits that he “struggled most of the time.”

“I struggled in the fact that I drank excessively. Academically, I was not proficient going to class, so I was always on academic probation,” said Jackson. “Arizona State is a very passionate school for baseball, they take it very seriously. So, the coach needed players that are going to be dependable, that are going to be academically eligible and perform on the field.

“I wasn’t performing on the field, I wasn’t performing off the field, I was drinking excessively. Just for some reason, the coach, he just knew I was from a good Christian upbringing, and he was a Christian, and for some reason he just saw something good in me.”

Still, the Twins came calling again, this time drafting him in the ninth round of the 1977 amateur draft.

Jackson made his professional debut shortly after in 1978 in the minor leagues for the Orlando Twins, pitching nine innings of no-hit baseball. Less than six weeks later, he was called up to the majors.

“[The newspapers] used adjectives like ‘phenom’ when they talked about me…I had no idea what that meant, how impressive. I know now today it was a pretty impressive performance by me.”

A left-handed pitcher, Jackson says he could throw hard and “challenge” hitters. He found early success, winning his first career start, and a three-hit shutout against the Oakland Athletics in his third start.

However, the same demons from his past still plagued him.

“Off the field, I was still drinking excessively. There were other things I was doing…I was a womanizer; you can use your imagination with that one,” said Jackson. “And then of course, when we got to the major leagues… in that era we were all heavy cocaine users.”

Jackson says he lacked discipline.

“A young kid with all that money, and that limelight, I didn’t handle it very well,” said Jackson. “But when the umpire says ‘Play ball,’ all that stuff is set aside and we basically just had a knack for focusing on the game at that moment.”

At the time, he counted his lifestyle as “success.”

“When I got to the big leagues, it was I defined as success: the drugs, the women, the money,” said Jackson. “That’s not success, that’s all a façade.

“The disciplines that Eddie Murray and Ozzie Smith had, their abilities were not superior to mine, but their focus and disciplines were; they didn’t get caught up in that lifestyle.”

Despite his early promise, Jackson “lacked composure” and was inevitably sent back to the minor leagues.

“To be honest, I wasn’t ready for the big leagues; I was rushed to the big leagues,” said Jackson. “After going back to Triple A and coming back, I had developed composure, I was settling in as a major league pitcher.”

Things would take a turn for the worse a few years later, however, when Jackson says his pitching arm was injured while being arrested after a drunken night out with a teammate that he declined to name. Officers also found cocaine in the apartment where the arrest took place.

“My agent bailed me out of jail, and then they did what they call an intervention,” said Jackson. “This famous pitcher for the Dodgers, rest in peace, Don Newcombe, was the person that handled [it] because of his alcoholism. Bobby Welch, the pitcher for the Dodgers, had just gone through rehab. Some other guys, Darrell Porter, the catcher for Kansas City and St. Louise.

“They sent me out to this place called The Nettles, but little did I know when I got out, when I got arrested, I didn’t realize that my arm problem was based on the arrest.”

Jacksons arm would be hit or miss, progressively getting worse. In 1982, the bottom would fall out on his career.

“Eventually I couldn’t pitch to the level, I started losing my desire because guys I could get out became a challenge,” said Jackson.

When the Twins desired to send Jackson back to the minor leagues, he declined.

“I had enough time in the major leagues where they either had to release me or keep me in the major leagues; I had to give them my permission,” said Jackson.

Jackson was ultimately released. Despite receiving a few other offers from other teams (including to come play with and mentor up-and-coming future eight-time All Star Darryl Strawberry), he eventually found himself pitching in Mexico.

“I really made some bad mistakes; I turned down those opportunities and wound up in Aguas Calientes, Mexico,” said Jackson. “What a difference from being in the major leagues and playing in Mexico. I was drinking, I was married, it was a mess.”

His career officially ended in 1983. Describing himself as “dysfunctional,” Jackson says he was “surviving” as opposed to living.“

“There was also a part of me that had the knack, the will to be somebody,” said Jackson. “I sold cars, and did well at that. I even was assistant manager at a Vans tennis shoe store at West Covina Mall. We always worked, we always tried to be productive married, but the marriage was really bad.”

Jackson won’t talk badly about his former wife, but he does admit to marrying “a woman I shouldn’t have married, a woman I thought I could change, fix.”

The marriage lasted from 1979 to (“by the grace of God”) 1986.

“That’s when my life changed; when I chose to end that marriage and change my lifestyle and got away from that life, is when I got sober and my life got better,” said Jackson.

Jackson entered rehab again after a chance encounter with Pittsburgh Pirates pitcher Doc Ellis, an acquaintance of his, and a former drug user himself.

“He had gotten sober and clean, and he was a wealth of information,” said Jackson. “He ran into me at my worst state at Dodger Stadium… They introduced me to rehab.”

Rehab would give Jackson a “30-day reprieve.”

“Through those 30 days they kind of nurture you back to health in a holistic way; we’re talking about… physical, mental, emotional health,” said Jackson. “You sort of gather your bearings; you stop the bleeding so to speak. It halts it, so it gives you a chance to really step back and take a look.”

Recovery would not be easy for Jackson, as he admits relapsing “right away.” However, he continued going to meetings. In 1986, things finally stuck, and Jackson said “enough is enough.”

“I embraced what was taught to me, and I haven’t had a drink since,” said Jackson. “It’s been 36 years.”

Jackson eventually moved to Orange County, where through support groups, mentorships, and volunteer groups, he established the 12-18 Club, a youth recreational program in Santa Ana.

“It really didn’t work out, I was clueless,” said Jackson.

As those in Downey know, the 12-18 wasn’t the only “Club” Jackson would start.

“I was also a father. I had a daughter born in Arizona State that I didn’t know. Her mother was with somebody else,” said Jackson. “When I got sober, part of getting sober is making amends and taking care of your responsibilities, so I reached out to my daughter. She was 10 years old, but at the age of 13 she wanted to come live with me.”

They moved to Downey to be closer to Jackson’s brother and his children in Paramount. In the meantime, Jackson was recruited by hospitals to speak about drug use and prevention.

“What I did, I would do Red Ribbon speeches and stuff. As a result, I worked for Charter Hospital in Long Beach, then I worked for other places,” said Jackson. “We’d come to Downey and we’d do speeches, and then if a kid had a drug problem the counselors would call up Charter Hospital, and we’d try and get some referrals.”

There was just one problem.

“I thought I was just doing some good work, but the business part of it, if you had a problem and your parents called up as a result of my speech and you didn’t have insurance, they wouldn’t help you,” said Jackson. “I’m like, ‘Wait a minute.’ They only wanted people who could afford to pay for their services, and I didn’t really like it.”

Jackson moved on to work for Bellwood Health Center.

“The administrator gave me beds for scholarships for kids who couldn’t afford it,” said Jackson. “I started working in Downey and started working with this district, and then when kids didn’t have the money I would give them scholarships, beds; they would get $45,000 worth of drug and alcohol treatment at no cost.”

When HMO’s took over, things became complicated again. However, the school district approached Jackson and offered him a contract to open the program in Downey in 1995. Unable to use the 12-18 Club name, Jackson made a slight adjustment, creating the 10-20 Club.

Jackson describes the 10-20 Club as “an early intervention [program] through Gangs Out of Downey” that provided suppression, education, and prevention.

Over 27 years, Jackson estimates that the 10-20 Club provided support to thousands of kids, many of which were referred through Downey Unified.

Still, he says “volume isn’t good.”

“We’re personal,” said Jackson. “If you have a problem, you pick up the phone you can call me directly; you don’t speak to some surrogate…We offered all those services, but when you get so big you can’t be as personal.”

Jackson says his success comes from when he sees those he helped “doing good things.”

“There’s no real track record,” said Jackson. “If I say I help kids, and I take credit for that, then I have to take credit for the ones that wound up going to prison and everything else, and I’m not willing to do that. We just do the best we can.”

Jackson, now married to second wife Veronica with daughters Yuko and Aiko, retired earlier this year and is now a stay-at-home dad.

“I don’t have much time left on this earth, so I’m doing things backwards. Being an older parent, I have to enjoy every moment I can with my girls,” said Jackson. “Because sooner or later, 20, 10, 15 years, who knows how much longer I have to live.”

He added that “people like me are dinosaurs.”

“I’m not a licensed therapist, so we brought Ronnie Fernandez in, a licensed therapist,” said Jackson. “Most districts are looking for; they call it mental wellness now. Everybody wants therapists and stuff. So, if you don’t have that LCSW, or MSW, or licensed psychologist and stuff, the new way of doing business don’t recognize guys like me anymore…but the main thing is I get to spend quality time with my daughters.”

And does he consider himself a success?

“My obituary will hopefully define that success, but today, as we talk right now, I’m a success,” said Jackson. “I have to live by principles in order to stay sober. We try to do the right thing when nobody is looking.

“My success is based on one, not picking up a drink and not getting drunk…I’m more successful now than when I was a pitcher in Minnesota.”

“When I got to the big leagues, it was I defined as success: the drugs, the women, the money,” said Jackson. “That’s not success, that’s all a façade.

“The disciplines that Eddie Murray and Ozzie Smith had, their abilities were not superior to mine, but their focus and disciplines were; they didn’t get caught up in that lifestyle.”

Despite his early promise, Jackson “lacked composure” and was inevitably sent back to the minor leagues.

“To be honest, I wasn’t ready for the big leagues; I was rushed to the big leagues,” said Jackson. “After going back to Triple A and coming back, I had developed composure, I was settling in as a major league pitcher.”

Things would take a turn for the worse a few years later, however, when Jackson says his pitching arm was injured while being arrested after a drunken night out with a teammate that he declined to name. Officers would also find cocaine in the apartment where the arrest took place.

“My agent bailed me out of jail, and then they did what they call an intervention,” said Jackson. “This famous pitcher for the Dodgers, rest in peace, Don Newcombe, was the person that handled [it] because of his alcoholism. Bobby Welch, the pitcher for the Dodgers, had just gone through rehab. Some other guys, Darrell Porter, the catcher for Kansas City and St. Louise.

“They sent me out to this place called The Nettles, but little did I know when I got out, when I got arrested, I didn’t realize that my arm problem was based on the arrest.”

Jacksons arm would be hit or miss, progressively getting worse. In 1982, the bottom would fall out on his career.

“Eventually I couldn’t pitch to the level, I started losing my desire because guys I could get out became a challenge,” said Jackson.

When the Twins desired to send Jackson back to the minor leagues, he would decline.

“I had enough time in the major leagues where they either had to release me or keep me in the major leagues; I had to give them my permission,” said Jackson.

Jackson would be released. Despite receiving a few other offers from other teams (including to come play with and mentor up-and-coming future eight-time All Star Darryl Strawberry), he would eventually find himself pitching in Mexico.

“I really made some bad mistakes; I turned down those opportunities and wound up in Aguas Calientes, Mexico,” said Jackson. “What a difference from being in the major leagues and playing in Mexico. I was drinking, I was married, it was a mess.”

His career would officially end in 1983. Describing himself as “dysfunctional,” Jackson says he was “surviving” as opposed to living.“

“There was also a part of me that had the knack, the will to be somebody,” said Jackson. “I sold cars, and did well at that. I even was assistant manager at a Vans tennis shoe store at West Covina Mall. We always worked, we always tried to be productive married, but the marriage was really bad.”

Jackson won’t talk badly about his former wife, but he does admit to marrying “a woman I shouldn’t have married, a woman I thought I could change, fix.”

The marriage lasted from 1979 to (“by the grace of God”) 1986.

“That’s when my life changed; when I chose to end that marriage and change my lifestyle and got away from that life, is when I got sober and my life got better,” said Jackson.

Jackson would enter rehab again after a chance encounter with Pittsburgh Pirates pitcher Doc Ellis, an acquaintance of his and former drug user himself.

“He had gotten sober and clean, and he was a wealth of information,” said Jackson. “He ran into me at my worst state at Dodger Stadium… They introduced me to rehab.”

Rehab would give Jackson a “30-day reprieve.”

“Through those 30 days they kind of nurture you back to health in a holistic way; we’re talking about… physical, mental, emotional health,” said Jackson. “You sort of gather your bearings; you stop the bleeding so to speak. It halts it, so it gives you a chance to really step back and take a look.”

Recovery would not be easy for Jackson, as he admits relapsing “right away.” However, he would continue going to meetings. In 1986, things would finally stick, and Jackson would say “enough is enough.”

“I embraced what was taught to me, and I haven’t had a drink since,” said Jackson. “It’s been 36 years.”

Jackson would eventually move to Orange County, where through support groups, mentorships, and volunteer groups, he would eventually establish the 12-18 Club, a youth recreational program in Santa Ana.

“It really didn’t work out, I was clueless,” said Jackson.

As those in Downey know, it wouldn’t be the first “Club” Jackson would start.

“I was also a father. I had a daughter born in Arizona State that I didn’t know. Her mother was with somebody else,” said Jackson. “When I got sober, part of getting sober is making amends and taking care of your responsibilities, so I reached out to my daughter. She was 10 years old, but at the age of 13 she wanted to come live with me.”

They moved to Downey to be closer to Jackson’s brother and his children in Paramount. In the meantime, Jackson would be recruited by hospitals to speak about drug use and prevention.

“What I did, I would do Red Ribbon speeches and stuff. As a result, I worked for Charter Hospital in Long Beach, then I worked for other places,” said Jackson. “We’d come to Downey and we’d do speeches, and then if a kid had a drug problem the counselors would call up Charter Hospital, and we’d try and get some referrals.”

There was just one problem.

“I thought I was just doing some good work, but the business part of it, if you had a problem and your parents called up as a result of my speech and you didn’t have insurance, they wouldn’t help you,” said Jackson. “I’m like, ‘Wait a minute.’ They only wanted people who could afford to pay for their services, and I didn’t really like it.”

Jackson would move on to work for Bellwood Health Center.

“The administrator gave me beds for scholarships for kids who couldn’t afford it,” said Jackson. “I started working in Downey and started working with this district, and then when kids didn’t have the money I would give them scholarships, beds; they would get $45,000 worth of drug and alcohol treatment at no cost.”

When HMO’s took over, things would become complicated again. However, the school district would approach Jackson and offer him a contract to open the program in Downey in 1995. Unable to use the 12-18 Club name, Jackson made a slight adjustment, creating the 10-20 Club.

Jackson describes the 10-20 Club as “an early intervention [program] through Gangs Out of Downey” that provided suppression, education, and prevention.

Over 27 years, Jackson estimates that the 10-20 Club provided support to thousands of kids, many of which were referred through Downey Unified.

Still, he says “volume isn’t good.”

“We’re personal,” said Jackson. “If you have a problem, you pick up the phone you can call me directly; you don’t speak to some surrogate…We offered all those services, but when you get so big you can’t be as personal.”

Jackson says his success comes from when he sees those he helped “doing good things.”

“There’s no real track record,” said Jackson. “If I say I help kids, and I take credit for that, then I have to take credit for the ones that wound up going to prison and everything else, and I’m not willing to do that. We just do the best we can.”

Jackson, now married to second wife Veronica with daughters Yuko and Aiko, retired earlier this year and is now a stay-at-home dad.

“I don’t have much time left on this earth, so I’m doing things backwards. Being an older parent, I have to enjoy every moment I can with my girls,” said Jackson. “Because sooner or later, 20, 10, 15 years, who knows how much longer I have to live.”

He added that “people like me are dinosaurs.”

“I’m not a licensed therapist, so we brought Ronnie Fernandez in, a licensed therapist,” said Jackson. “Most districts are looking for; they call it mental wellness now. Everybody wants therapists and stuff. So, if you don’t have that LCSW, or MSW, or licensed psychologist and stuff, the new way of doing business don’t recognize guys like me anymore…but the main thing is I get to spend quality time with my daughters.”

And does he consider himself a success?

“My obituary will hopefully define that success, but today, as we talk right now, I’m a success,” said Jackson. “I have to live by principles in order to stay sober. We try to do the right thing when nobody is looking.

“My success is based on one, not picking up a drink and not getting drunk…I’m more successful now than when I was a pitcher in Minnesota.”