When the Pittsburgh Panthers men’s basketball team played the Duke Blue Devils in January 2024, Carlton “Big Bub” Carrington Jr. was sitting in the crowd, cheering on the son who shared his name.

He was one of few Pittsburgh fans at the North Carolina stadium, where Pittsburgh hadn’t won since 1979. The longtime basketball coach from Baltimore knew better than to storm the court after a victory, but he said he would anyway.

When the Panthers pulled off the 80-76 win, he jumped off the stands and rushed the court. His friend and fellow coach, Kevin Bullock, filmed a video as the security guards shooed him away. He obliged, but he couldn’t stop smiling — Carrington was just so proud of his son, “Lil’ Bub,” who later that year was a first-round draft pick for the Washington Wizards.

“Just watching his competitive spirit as a fan and as a parent was amazing,” Bullock said. “I’m pretty sure why Bub, his son, is so successful and confident in who he is because he didn’t fear anything when he came to basketball. [His father] really taught kids how to compete and what professional basketball was all about.”

For years, “the name ‘Bub’ became synonymous with Baltimore basketball,” said Carrington’s friend and colleague, Aaron Reichel. He gave back to his community through his coaching and mentorship — probably what he’s known best for — but also was heavily involved in substance abuse prevention and treatment programs.

Carrington loved Baltimore so much that it feels like there’s a piece of the city missing now that he’s gone, friends said. Carrington died March 20 after battling cancer for nearly a year. He was 53.

“Big Bub was the heart and soul of our family,” the Carringtons said in a statement shared by the Wizards. “He was a pillar in the community as someone who dedicated his life to serving others. We take comfort in knowing that he lived life to the fullest and made it his mission to positively impact his community each and every day.”

Carrington grew up in East Baltimore, where he experienced some of the best and worst parts of the city, Reichel said. His mother and grandmother were involved in local politics, inspiring him to become a community leader, and his father coached basketball. Like his dad, Carrington played football and basketball in his youth.

He attended Dunbar High School, where he formed friendships that have stretched decades. He graduated with the class of 1989 — the best class, his friends said.

Arthur “Squeaky” Kirk played on the football team with him. Any time they were together, it was just jokes all the time. Later, Kirk loved to tease Carrington and remind him that he was the better basketball player as a kid, even though he readily admits that Carrington was a much better coach.

But, in all seriousness, Kirk believes the two connected because “he always had a passion to help people, and I had passion to help people. It was in our blood.” Both men had seen the effects of substance abuse within their own families and communities, and they wanted to help others get clean.

Carrington liked to help out in other ways, too. He tutored another friend, Tiffany Domneys, in geometry, and she said she couldn’t have passed the class without him. Even as a teenager, Carrington wanted to see the people around him succeed and was the “connector” of the friend group, she said.

“A phrase that I hear is, ‘Lift as you climb,‘” Domneys said. “He was always lifting other people up.”

After graduating from Dunbar, Carrington went to Morgan State University. He then started a career in coaching basketball in gyms all over the city, but most know him from his years at Mt. Royal, an elementary and middle school, where he raised some of Baltimore’s best basketball players. Former players credit him with launching their careers, helping them develop key skills and learn discipline.

“It was more than just meeting people at the gym and shooting basketball,” Kirk said. “He was getting their bodies right, getting their mind right.”

That sentiment also applied off the court. In 2013, Carrington partnered with Marty McNair to launch Mi Casa Es Su Casa, a behavioral health program that helps Baltimore residents get their lives back on track. When they first started the program, they offered transitional housing for unhoused men or those who had recently been incarcerated. Over time, they expanded to substance abuse treatment.

The men’s skills complemented one another. While McNair focused on patient treatment, Carrington took charge of the business side.

“Even if he just touched one person, that’s impact, but he touched multiple people’s lives,” McNair said.

A few years later, Carrington and his wife, Karima, started a nonprofit called Breaking Chains, which provides mental and behavioral health services to Baltimore’s children and adults. It also offers opportunities to volunteer or give back to the community.

Steven McAdams, who served as executive director of Gov. Larry Hogan’s Office of Community Initiatives, said Carrington often acted as a facilitator between different people and organizations, and he used his connections to better support those in need.

“He had a mentality about him that I would say — he’s almost like a Marine,” McAdams said. “He was kind of like a protector and provider, looking out, and he was strong and proud, but at the same time, very humble and very serving.”

But of all of his accomplishments, family topped the list. He adored Karima and his children, Cierra, Kareem, Lil’ Bub and Faith. He also enjoyed spending time with his grandchildren, Jayden, Journee, Bella and J’rue.

Watching Lil’ Bub on draft day was among the proudest moments of his life, friends said, and he was also heavily involved in his other children’s endeavors. He helped Kareem play football and watched Faith play volleyball. The Carringtons also regularly attended church together.

Family always came first.

One time, Carrington was out shopping with McNair and treated himself to a $200 pair of Timberland boots. He immediately had buyer’s remorse, McNair recalled, lamenting that “I’m taking away from the grocery money.” He returned them soon after.

“This man was committed to his family, unselfish towards his family,” McNair said.

He was also committed to Baltimore, so much so that his handle on several social media sites was @BmoreAllDay. He rooted for the Ravens and the Orioles, of course.

His friends will also miss sharing a cigar with Carrington and spending time on the golf course together.

“There’s no way when I think of him, I’m just going to think of him passing and let that just overshadow anything else that we’ve done together,” said Charlie Hurt, another high school friend. “For every 5,000 tears of sorrow, man, I can dig deeper and let [out] 10,000 or 10 million tears of joy to overwhelm that.”

The Banner publishes news stories about people who have recently died in Maryland. If your loved one has passed and you would like to inquire about an obituary, please contact obituary@thebaltimorebanner.com. If you are interested in placing a paid death notice, please contact groupsales@thebaltimorebanner.com or visit this website.