Brian Donovan, 17, of Dedham has been charged with assault and battery on a public employee and wrongful interference.

An MBTA bus crashed into a Roxbury building on April 11 after the driver said he was attacked by a group of men on the bus after he asked one of them to put out a cigarette.

The men say the 39-yeaar-old driver assaulted them and intentionally rammed the bus into them after they got off.

19-year-old Michael Baptista and 18-year-old Felix Garcia, both of Roxbury, were previously arrested. They face the same charges as Donovan.

19-year-old Michael Baptista and 18-year-old Felix Garcia of Roxbury were arrested Wednesday and charged with interfering with a bus driver and assault and battery on a public employee.

WBZ-TV’s Peg Rusconi reports.[worldnow id=5755441 width=320 height=240 type=video]

They were arraigned in Roxbury District Court Thursday morning. Baptista was released on a promise to return to court. Garcia, who hid behind a door during the hearing, was ordered held on $10,000 bail for violating his probation.

(credit: Boston Fire Department)

Assistant District Attorney Andrius Knasas said Garcia and Baptista assaulted the 39-year-old bus driver and knocked him unconscious, causing the bus to crash against a building on Dudley Street Monday afternoon.

Police say the incident was sparked when the driver asked someone to put out a cigarette. Smoking is prohibited on Massachusetts Bay Transportation Authority buses.

WBZ NewsRadio 1030′s Carl Stevens reports

Download: stevens-mbta-bus-court-w1.mp3|titles=Bus%20Crash%20Araignment|artists=Carl%20Stevens

A fight broke out and somehow, for reasons that are still not clear, both young men ended up hit by the bus. The prosecutor said Garcia wanted to sue the MBTA moments after the crash.

“At that point he was smoking a cigarette and high-fiving other individuals saying that he was going to sue the MBTA and that he was going to get a free MBTA pass for life,” Knasas said.

Outside court, relatives of both Garcia and Baptista said the driver started everything and should be facing charges.

WBZ NewsRadio 1030′s Lana Jones reports

Download: jones-mbta-sidebar-wrap-1.mp3|titles=Familes%20Reaction|artists=Lana%20Jones

“Felix Garcia is innocent. He did not hit the bus driver, from what I know,” said Garcia’s sister-in-law, Chrsitine Gonzalez.

“The bus driver punched him first. After the bus driver punched him, you know, they got into a scuffle,” Baptista’s sister, Priscilla Malave, told reporters.

Prosecutors say the driver lost conscious during the fight, that’s when the bus veered off the road and crashed into a building.

Relatives claim the driver tried to run over the young men on purpose.

“Then he purposely moved the bus towards Michael and Felix – supposedly the two alleged victims,” Malave told reporters “and said ‘I got you, I got you.’”

The driver ended up in the hospital and is now on paid leave.  His name has not been released.

If they’re found guilty, Baptista and Garcia could face up to twenty years in state prison and a $10,000 fine.

Baptista had little to say to reporters after he was released from court.

“How are you gonna jump a kid and then end up under a bus? Think about that for a second.”

(TM and © Copyright 2010 CBS Radio Inc. and its relevant subsidiaries. CBS RADIO and EYE Logo TM and Copyright 2010 CBS Broadcasting Inc. Used under license. All Rights Reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed. The Associated Press contributed to this report.)

Nineteen-year-old Michael Baptista and 18-year-old Felix Garcia, both of Roxbury face felony charges for interference with a bus driver and assault and battery on a public employee.

If convicted on the interference charge, the men could both be looking at a maximum 20 years in prison.

The MBTA said the 39-year-old bus driver was attacked on Monday after he apparently asked one of the passengers to put out a cigarette.  The attack caused the bus to hit a building.

At the other end, perhaps predictably, Haiti and Cuba continued to be the most difficult locations for home sides to find winning ways in North American soccer: Cienfuegos failed to gain a single victory in the league, while fellow Cuban side Villa Clara and Haitian minnows Violette managed only two each during their long seasons.

The promotion playoffs were dominated by teams from the Maradona Conference, which saw all four of their playoff participants promoted into NADI for next year. As such, AC St. Louis and Real Miami are both underdogs to survive at the higher level, while X. Tijuana and FC Chicago—both with over 50 points in the regular season—will be quite disappointed to spend 2011 again in the fourth level of play.

The misery ran especially deep at X. Tijuana, who boasted the league MVP in Alejandro Leyva and the only offense in NADII to score more than fifty goals on the year. But Albuquerque—who had faded dramatically at the end of the season—managed a goal in extra time from their veteran leader William Thompson to unseat the Mexican side. Still, the assumption has to be that, if the finances hold up, X. Tijuana will be among the favorites for promotion in 2011.

Individual play was dominated by Nashville’s veteran striker Josh Russell, who found the back of the net 19 times on the year, besting Houston’s Felix Garcia and Santa Fe’s Ricardo Flores by five. Nashville was unable to overcome their defensive woes however, and didn’t even make the playoffs, while both the Comets and the Red Devils both succeeded in gaining promotion.

Awards in NADII were handed out as follows:

• Keeper of the Year. Scott Vallow (Rochester), Adrián Zermeño (X. Tijuana), Diego (Vancouver).
• Defender of the Year. Scott Jones (Vancouver), Marco Reda (Vancouver), Armando Gallegos (X. Tijuana).
• Midfielder of the Year. Ricardo Sánchez (Mérida FC), Juan Carlos Nuñez (X. Tijuana), Simon Nakajima-Farran (Real Miami)
• Striker of the Year. Rogelio López (X. Tijuana), Charel Hernández (Mérida FC), Ricky Schramm (Real Miami).
• MVP. Leyva, Mandjou Keita (Cincinnati), Nicola Brighenti (Georgia).
• Young Player of the Year. Ágúst Ævar Gunnarsson (Louisville), Oscar Reyes (Real Estelí), Antonio Cameira (Québec).
• NADII Select XI. Alejandro Barba (Fargo), Brighenti, Cameira, Diego, Gunnarsson, Jones, Leyva, Federico Mancinelli (Mérida FC), Reda, Reyes, Sánchez.

2011 NADII: Yashin At A Glance

Champion: Rochester
Goals: Alejandro Leyva (X. Tijuana) 17
Assists: Danny Earls (Rochester) 8
Rating: Alejandro Leyva (X. Tijuana) 7.82

2011 NADII: di Stefano At A Glance

Champion: Vancouver
Goals: Yarrow Flitling (Kulture Yabra) 15
Assists: Orlando Rodríguez (Kulture Yabra) 10
Rating: Oscar Reyes (Real Estelí) 8.03

2011 NADII: Beckenbauer At A Glance

Champion: Mérida FC
Promoted: NY Giants
Goals: Lewis Corrales (Cavaliers FC) & Miguel Ángel Hernández (Curtidores) 11
Assists: Jaymi Bailey (Tampa Bay) 10
Rating: Jorge Barragán (Mérida FC) 7.75

2011 NADII: Maradona At A Glance

Champion: NFSA Sunshine
Promoted: Charlotte SAS, AC St. Louis, Real Miami
Goals: Ricky Schramm (Real Miami), Dana Scully (Baltimore SC) & Fabian Dawkins (AC St. Louis) 15
Assists: Simon Nakajima-Farran (Real Miami) 13
Rating: Evan Harding (AC St. Louis) 7.87

2011 NADII: Pelé At A Glance

Champion: Georgia Peaches
Goals: Nicola Brighenti (Georgia Peaches) 18
Assists: Tyler Hemming (Georgia Peaches) & George Abbey (Ottawa) 9
Rating: Ágúst Ævar Gunnarsson (Louisville) 7.85

2011 NADII: Cruyff At A Glance

Champion: Santa Fe
Promoted: Houston Comets, Albuquerque
Goals: Josh Russell (Nashville) 19
Assists: Doug DeMartin (Nashville) 8
Rating: Marc Schwartz (FC Chicago) 7.53

X. Tijuana's Alejandro Leyva, 2010 NADII MVP denied promotion despite a fantastic year.

Nashville's Josh Russell, NADII's leading goalscorer in 2010 with 19.

NADII: Cruyff
Houston Comets v Fútbol Club Cienfuegos, Rice Track & Soccer Stadium
Comets 4 (Felix Garcia 17 28 45+2 63) – Cienfuegos 0
MoM: Garcia (9.6)
Attendance 1691. Referee: John Taylor.

October 16, 2010

“So what did Wigley want?”

Julian is leaning across the seat of the bus to talk to me, his body shaking gently as we move down I-10 at a good clip, the flat emptiness that lies beyond the Houston suburbs slowly giving way to the Hill Country. The sun is bright through the scratched windows, and I have to squint when I turn his way.

“You know how he feels about other Texas teams.”

Julian nods. “So we better win tonight?”

“Yep.” It was a strange meeting with the chairman that morning. He spent most of the thirty minutes telling me about how he shot one of the two large elk that hangs above his desk—something about a buddy of his in the oil business and a lease in central Texas. I don’t know. I think a lease is like a ranch or something. Turns out his friend is one of the investors in Mission FC, today’s opponent. So the point was that he wanted us to beat them.

I think I made the right noises, but I’m still profoundly uncomfortable in that office. I’d rather meet with him on the field, in my office, in the cafeteria. Anywhere but that room with all those eyes staring at me.

“Yeah. You think Felix is ready?”

Julian glances towards the back of the bus. “That’s your side of the field, Lee. You’re the offense. But yeah, I do. I know what you’re asking, though. I think he’s pretty level headed.”

Garcia scored four against Cienfuegos in a game where our second string saw most of the action, setting a team record in the process. They were good goals, well-deserved, but it was Cienfuegos and as much a result of our system as anything else. The last thing I needed was a striker becoming over confident. Such a fine line.

I get up and make my way towards the back of the bus. Almost all of the players are in their own worlds, huge metallic headphones bobbing to and fro. A few snooze, a few play cards. I pause by Andrew Kartunen, our starting goalkeeper who has been out for nearly a week with a strained chest muscle. He pulls out his ear buds when I catch his eye.

“How’s it feeling?”

He shrugs. “It’s getting better.”

“Tonight?”

He just shakes his head. I know that Jordan James, our reserve keeper, is listening in from his seat a couple rows up. “Good thing. Jordan’s got this one in the bag. Guaranteed clean sheet.”

Kartunen smiles and nods. I make my way back up the bus, stopping where Felix and Stevie Owens sit. The two Dynamo loanees are always together. “Hey.”

Garcia, much the more comfortable one, nodded. “Coach.”

“Stevie, you keeping his head from getting too big? Reminding him he doesn’t score four without your passes?”

Owens smiles and nods. “Will do, coach.”

“Good.” I continue on my way, settling again next to Julian who looks at me expectantly. “Well?”

“Jordan in goal. Not much else.”

# # #

Stevie watched his coach move up the aisle before settling in his seat again. He leaned over towards Felix and shook his head.

“What?” asked the older player.

“He’s disrespecting you, man.”

“Coach?” Garcia was surprised: if anything, he had enjoyed the months with the Comets staff so far.

Stevie cut his eyes forward, his voice cold and low. “Yeah, coach. Motherfucker’s trying to take away from what you did. That was some solid shit you did. Four. Nobody ever done that for this team. It wasn’t me or my passing or any other goddamn thing. It was you. Ain’t right.”

Felix took off his headphones and looked hard at Stevie. “Look, you gotta’ figure out how to chill. Coach? He’s just trying to make sure I keep working, keep looking at how to get better. That’s all. He and Jay, they’re alright. You gotta’ stop looking for the hurt.”

“I ain’t looking for shit. They don’t appreciate you, and they don’t appreciate me. We’re rented talent, man. That’s all.”

Felix shrugged. “Yes and no. We’re only here a year, yeah. But it’s still on us to figure out what to do with what it.”

Stevie shook his head. “You’re tripping. You just don’t see it. Whatever, man.” He leaned back against the window and began to move his head in slow rhythm to the noise from his headphones.

Garcia stared ahead for a few breaths, thinking over whether there was more to say. He decided against it. Some things had to be learned on their own. He replaced his own headphones, slipping slowly into a private world punctuated by cumbia beats and the vibrations of the bus as it edged closer to San Antonio.

# # #

We pull into the stadium with a few hours until the game. Time enough to walk the pitch, review the game plan, do a pregame interview. But not much else.

Mission FC is right below us, so it’s another game we need to win to keep the playoff push going. Their best player is probably Carlos Alberto Ortega, a big defender that anchors their backline from any spot. Up front, it’s all about the combination of teenage sensation Michael Butler and veteran Dave Doherty, who have combined for about 2/3 of their scores. Butler is long and tall, with a nose for goal and the height to bother our back four all day, Doherty is your typical wily veteran, a strong all around striker.

Two minutes in, Miller slides a lovely pass to Garcia inside the box. His first touch is awkward, but he recovers in time to beat their keeper and we’re off to an early lead.

Twenty minutes on, only a diving save from James Bonner in their goal keeps Garcia from doubling the lead—the shot is a laser across the front of goal, and I’m amazed he got down enough to save it. Just after halftime, Bonner is again spectacular, turning away a close range header from Lance with a beauty of a reaction save.

Jordan is inspired by the play of his opposite number, twice making full extension saves on Butler. We look comfortable out there, and while there’s always the danger of a counterattack, the ball is staying in front of their goal, and we’ve only been kept out by a mix of bad luck and spectacular play by Bonner. Still, I am getting anxious for the final whistle. We end the game a man up when their promising teenage defender, Martin Russell, goes off after colliding with Matty. He’s clutching his chest and heads straight to the locker room, never a good sign.

We hold on comfortably after that, and it’s a good win, moving us to 4^th. But Stevie Owens is out for a few weeks, which will both push Marcus Westwood into the starting lineup and also makes our getting David Cameron on loan more important for this final drive.

NADII: Cruyff
San Antonio Mission Football Club v Houston Comets, Alamo Stadium
Mission FC 0 – Comets 1 (Felix Garcia 3)
MoM: Lance Miller (7.4)
Attendance: 1855. Referee: Brian Mellor.

In England, where the quality of play is higher, but the amount of competition significantly less, Chelsea saw six players named to the EPL Team of the Week: Yury Zhirkov, Ricardo Carvalho, Simon Vukcevic (twice), Didier Drogba, John Terry, and Edin Dzeko. Drogba finished behind West Brom’s Scott Carson in the player of the month voting, ahead of Burnley’s Matt Derbyshire while Arsenal’s young winger Theo Walcott was selected as the Young Player of the Month in the league.

Veracruz swept the NACL player of the month awards, with John Javier Restrepo edging out teammates Pedro Domínquez and César Valoyes for the award. A trio of defenders—Dorados’ Víctor Silva, Correcaminos UAT’s David Chávez, and Alajuelense’s Cristían González—topped the young player of the month lists in that league. Further down, sixteen year old Boyd Parham continues to outclass NADI for Reboceros de la Piedad while Blizzard FC’s Chris Haworth was the best young player in NADII for the second consecutive month.

Blizzard FC's Chris Haworth.

Aresenal's lightning-quick Theo Walcott.

Racing Club's first NADII Team of the Week selection, Liam Parmentier.

Friendly
Kalamzoo v Houston Comets, Rice Track & Soccer Stadium
Kalamazoo 0 – Comets 5 (Victor Ramirez 7, Matthew Ramage 11 28 37, Ryan Bryant 73)
MoM: Ramage (9.6)
Attendance: 317. Referee: Jack Parsons.

April 4, 2010

Friendly
Houston Comets v Waterhouse FC, Rice Track & Soccer Stadium
Comets 0 – Waterhouse 0
MoM: Mario Ricketts (8.6) Comets’ Best: Ralph Murphy (7.4)
Attendance: 1225. Referee: Iván López.

April 6, 2010

Friendly
North Florida Soccer Association Sunshine v Houston Comets, Hodges Stadium
NFSA Sunshine 1 (Billy Duncan 34) –Comets 2 (Jesse Sánchez 82, Ryan George 88)
MoM: Kevin Friedland (7.4)
Attendance: 881. Referee: Richard Burns.

“Cut that one a little close.” Levi was smiling as he walked towards the visitor’s dressing room. Julian whistled low and put on his best Texas accent. “I tell you what.”

“That’s amazing Jules.”

“What?”

“That you can turn four one syllable words into a nine syllable sentence.”

“Yeah, well, what can I say? I was raised right. Hey, there’s Garcia and Owens. You want to do this, or me?”

“You take it.”

“Alright.”

Johnson peeled off from his coach and moved over to the two Dynamo loanees. “Felix, Steven, a word?” They paused, and turned to Johnson expectantly, who looked around and headed towards a bench by the entrance, followed by the two players. “So, we wanted to make sure the two of you knew something before the press got hold of it. Here’s the thing. We got a chance to have Chivas as a parent club. Chivas. That’s a huge club. And they’ll pay a lot of money for us to do that. A lot.”

The two teenagers looked at Johnson blankly.

“I don’t …” Owens was interrupted by the older Garcia. “You’re telling us ‘cuz you can only have one parent team, right? They’re taking over from the Dynamo.” Johnson nodded, watching them carefully. Garcia’s face snapped shut, masking his reaction. Owens was clearly confused, asking “What, what does this mean for us?”

Johnson looked at each of them in turn. “Absolutely nothing. Nothing from our end. The link with Chivas doesn’t start until next year. But the press will catch wind of it in the next day or two, and they’ll be around asking questions. But far as I’m concerned, far as Coach McKinnon is concerned, you’re Comets. Both of you, for the whole season. And important Comets at that.”

“Coach, does Houston, do the Dynamo know about this?”

Johnson smiled. “You always were pretty quick, Felix. That’s part of why we wanted you this year. Nah, see, that’s part of why we’re talking right now. Our owner, Mr. Wigley, he’s talking to your Mr. Luck right about now. We don’t exactly know how that’s going to go.”

“Can they do anything?”

Johnson shook his head. “Not really, no. They can’t call you back.”

Garcia’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, not really?”

“Well, they can’t call you back. They pay us enough, we could send you back. But I don’t see that happening. Mr. Luck likes his money to stay right where it is. Look, I see the two of you starting twenty-five, thirty games each in red and black this year. That’s the bottom line. You good with that?”

The two nodded, one smiling one more cautious. Johnson turned towards the building entrance, then back again. “Good job, today. More tomorrow. We’ve got a month to pull everything together, alright?” More nods as he headed back in.

“Felix, what you think?”

“I dunno, man, I dunno. I think we, you know, keep our mouths shut. Keep together.”

“OK. Felix?”

The older boy nodded.

“I’ve never started a pro game. I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah, I know  you do. I do too. Just … just remember it’s a business. Always has been, always will be.”

We’re at baggage claim in Oklahoma City, watching the carousel circle round and round. I’m bored and staring at the metal sections as they slide beneath each other along the curve of the conveyor belt, a dirty metal fan streaked with black marks, unfolding and folding in endless repetition. Eric Cullen walks over to me, roller bag in tow.

“Yours still coming?”

“Hope so.”

“Can I taxi with you over to the hotel?” I looked up. Usually, Julien and I take a cab to the hotel, no real reason other than habit. “Course. Let Julian know, will you?”

He nods, turns to look for Johnson’s bald head above the crowd. “Ah, there it is.” I pull my bag off the belt, and we head out into the clear night air.

Once we’re settled in the back seat of the cab, Cullen turns to me. “You know who called me? Just before we boarded?”

I shook my head.

“Chris Cherneski. Scouts for SF FAC.”

I turn a hand over in a gesture of … questioning? Impatience? “And?”

“And? Did we really just make a lowball offer for Moss?”

I nod.

“Jesus, Levi. Cherneski says they were howling with laughter over it. What’d we do, offer them a couple of used shirts and some goalie gloves?”

“Something like that.”

He shook his head. “You do understand that shit like that, it doesn’t help us look professional, doesn’t help us get there.”

I shrug. “You never know. Sometimes teams don’t have a clue about their own roster.”

He stares at me, then looks away. “I’m just saying …”

“And I hear you, Eric. But if we have a chance to improve this team by robbing someone blind, we’ll do it. And if trying to do that makes us look bad from time to time, I’m ok with that.”

He just shakes his head, but he drops the topic, staring out the window for a few minutes. He turns back to me. “Anything special you want me to look for tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Usual stuff in the game—anything you see is great. But, Di Angelo, of course. And I’m hoping this Russian kid they have in goal—Andriapov, Andrianov, something like that—gets some time. If not, though, see if you can see anything in warm-ups or in the afternoon practice.”

He nods. “Andrianov. I have some stuff on him from last year. Will do.”

March 27, 2010

Friendly
Houston Comets v Oklahoma City Bison, University of Oklahoma Soccer Stadium
OKC Bison 1 (Jair Domínguez 9) – Comets 0
MoM: Andy Miles (7.2) Comets’ Best: Andrew Kartunen (6.9)
Attendance: 501. Referee: Lon Milo DuQuette.

Julian and I are sitting in the hotel bar after the game, slowly nursing a beer each. They serve them in tall, thinly curved glasses here, an odd affectation out of touch with the rest of Oklahoma City. We’re keeping watch for stragglers. If they respect curfew in the preseason, they’ll respect it in August, too.

He takes a sip, belches.

“Lovely.”

Johnson shrugs. “Too bad di Angelo was hurt. Never really got to see him open up.”

I shrug. “He fought through it, though. Tough. And worked like hell to support his team. Tell you what, though, Domínguez tore us up. Robinson, too. And Andrianov. He hugs his line a bit, but did you see him in the air? Fucking gymnast.”

Julian laughed at me. “You want to just trade teams with them? Gotta’ say, Levi, I like Houston more than this crap town.”

“It’s not bad. And, no I don’t. I wouldn’t trade this group for anything else in our division. But I would add to it.”

“Speaking of … when will Bostock and van Kanten show up?”

I shook my head. “Not sure. Paperwork is in process, though. Should be a few days, no more.”

A tinny version of Lyle Lovett’s voice came from my pocket. Julian and I both froze—that was the Chairman’s office. I dug out the phone, looked hard at Julian, and answered it.

“McKinnon here … No sir, not at all. I’m still up. Julian and I were just talking through the game … I hope so … Yes … Really? … He did? … Tomorrow? … Wow … that’s fantastic, sir … yes, yes it should … and he was ok with it? … oh … sure, sure … I will. Thank you, sir. I can’t say how much this may help. It’s really appreciated.”

Julian had a look of mock horror on his face. “That sounded interesting.”

“Tomorrow, the Houston Dynamo are going to announce that Felix Garcia is joining us on loan for the duration of the season.”

He lowered his glass to the table. “No shit?”

“No shit.”

“So both Owens and Garcia?”

I nodded. “You ever meet Garcia?” Julian shook his head. “Me, neither. But he’s got all the skills we could ever want up front.” I thought for a moment. “You know what?”

“What?”

“Both of them will make their debut against the Dynamo. That should be interesting.”

Julian smiled. “You think that’s enough?”

“It’s never enough. You know that. But, well … yeah. Nettis and George in back. Maybe one of the holders comes through for us. Owens on one side, Garcia up front. We’re better all around than we were last year. At least as long as we stay healthy.”

He nods. “Levi? I know this is great news. But do you think, maybe, next time we do something, you could add a defender? Just for me?”

I smile at him. “We’ll see, we’ll see.”

Encuesta realizada entre 1970 y 1974

P. FELIX GARCIA. Agustino.

Creo que por lo que a mí, concretamente, se refiere la pregunta huelga y no tiene un alcance lógico, ya que yo no soy ni veo la forma de poder ser ni del Opus Dei ni de ninguna otra institución religiosa o eclesiástica civil o regular, por la sencilla razón de que por voca­ción y profesión pertenezco a la Orden de San Agustín. Por otra parte, nunca se me ha planteado el proble­ma de pertenecer o no pertenecer al Opus Dei, que tiene sus finalidades específicas de perfección y de actua­ción, y que es un Instituto fundado por un español ex­traordinario, que lleva adelante su obra con un impul­so desusado. Y ahí está su obra, que habrá que juzgar por sus frutos y por su eficacia en el ámbito de lo mo­ral y de lo religioso: una obra que es combatida y en­salzada, comprendida e incomprendida, sencilla y com­pleja, juzgada con los más diversos criterios y enjui­ciada desde las posiciones más diversas.

Pero es una realidad; una gran realidad el Opus Dei; la historia y los hechos tienen la palabra. Y por sobre el juicio de los hombres, el juicio y los designios de Dios.

Si no soy, pues, del Opus Dei, como no soy profe­sionalmente, ni franciscano, ni jesuita, ni cartujo, ni camaldulense, aunque con todos esté vinculado en es­píritu, cuando se trata de buscar los caminos de Dios y andar por ellos sin desvíos, a pesar de las humanas fragilidades, es sencillamente, y en una palabra, por­que soy religioso agustino, y ya está bien.