Grabbing a Bite with Cambridge Day is a monthly series of conversations with some of our many noteworthy neighbors — people who call the city home or head this way to work or study. We grab a bite, talk shop, learn more about why Cambridge, and shoot the proverbial … well, you know.
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When I ask Imam Firmin, Jr. where to grab a bite, the recent graduate of Cambridge Rindge and Latin and co-captain of the basketball team doesn’t hesitate. “El Jefe, in the square,” he texts.
Firmin is already on site when I arrive at noontime in April, greeting me with a big, sheepish grin, sleepy eyes shaded by short dreadlocks, and offers a very polite handshake.
Our first attempt to meet at El Jefe weeks before had been less successful. My morning text reminder went unanswered, as did my follow-ups, until finally about 25 minutes after our meeting time, I got a reply. “I am so sorry for the late response. I thought it was the 4th. My coach was reminding me not to forget, and I still did – terrible first impression🤦🏾♂️.”
This second time is a charm, though. My normal confirmation text is preempted the day before with a cheery “Hey Ms. Beck. I just wanted to make sure we are still good for tomorrow?”
After our greeting, I steer him to the order line where, again, seemingly out of good manners, he tries to decline the chance to get something to eat. “You have to,” I blurt out. Without even so much as a glance at a menu, he obliges: a steak and cheese quesadilla, water to drink. It’s his go-to, he says, that he enjoys more often than he should. The shop sits conveniently between school and the apartment he shares with his older sister, down Massachusetts Avenue. The 77 bus basically drops him at the taqueria’s door.
I order a bowl, lettuce, extra tomato (vitamin C!), chicken, and large scoops of guacamole. My plate looks restrained next to his. It takes a few minutes of graduation talk before I understand something Firmin’s coach had already warned me about. “I’m very, like, not really antisocial,” he mutters, choosing his words carefully. “But I don’t like to talk a lot if I don’t have to.”
By the time his tray is in front of him, though, he has detailed one of the few things that seems to break through what he calls “the craziest case of senioritis:” what to do after graduation?
He might go to Hampton University in Virgina next fall, he says. If he does, he would like to play basketball. It’s D-1 after all. The Hampton coach has suggested a postgraduate year of prep school first — a year to grow into his body — but his father thinks he might be able to skip it by doing a summer program. Firmin has never been to Hampton. In fact, he has never been to Virginia. “It would be really, like, a new start,” he says. “I could start my whole life over.”
He is leaning toward that. He thinks. During our conversation, he often gets a faraway look, as if he is still thinking – hard. As a result, 20 minutes in, his quesadilla lies largely untouched while my bowl is more than halfway done.
Whichever route he takes, he hopes that basketball will be part of it. It seems to have always been a part of him. Among his earlies memories: his father plopping him down in front of Celtics games every chance he got. Dad made sure there was always a hoop of some kind nearby, too. Today, the younger Firmin swears he has no memory of ever not being a basketball player. “Even as a little kid, I was just already locked in.”
“Basketball’s my identity a little bit,” he admits, as if that’s a problem. “I don’t really have a plan for college. I know I want to study finance. I just don’t know what I want to be.”
I assure him no one knows what they want to be. Even at my age (no disclosure), I am still figuring it out. He laughs in the way that suggests he has heard this kind of thing from grown-ups before and has mostly decided to wait and see.
What he is certain about is how much he will miss his hometown of Cambridge. His voice floods with emotion as he recounts his educational path – Morse for elementary, Putnam Avenue for middle school, and CRLS for high school. He talks about growing up in his grandmother’s house. Relatives who seem to be everywhere in town. Cousins here, grandmother there, his sister down the street, and even his godfather, Geo Rodriguez, CRLS grad and member of the school’s 2001 state championship team, who doubles as his coach on the court.
What, I ask, is he going to miss most about Cambridge? Firmin tips his head back and almost howls, never losing his smile. “Everything,” he says, staring out again through the window onto Brattle Street. First off, Central Square. Although, he says, it has gone strangely quiet. “Nobody’s in Central no more. It’s crazy.” His elementary school, which he walks past now with the feeling that he can’t believe he was ever that small. The gym. And, of course, friends. When I point out that they will mostly be gone, too, he nods, adding, “but also the walking-around part.” He pauses and takes a bite. “Everything.”
One thing he might not miss is the inevitable confusion that resulted from sharing a first and last name with his father. Firmin Sr. was also a product of Cambridge and among other things, a well-recognized rapper before he moved out of town several years ago. Firmin Jr. makes it quite clear that rapping is not his thing. “He got all the rapping skill,” he chuckles. “Or maybe my sister took it.” Is he anything like his father? At first, he pushes the answer off to his mom or his sister. “Oh, wait,” he says. “I can’t save money,” he confesses with a laugh. “He could save money. Really good. I can’t.” Firmin says it’s part of the reason he is thinking about finance as a college major.
My lunch companion takes another bite of his meal. A quick sip of his water. (I have never seen a teen eat so slowly. My bowl is empty.)
The more he talks, the many other ways basketball shaped his short life. He played casually in middle school – during school, after school, and on weekends with his friendships defined by the peers he met on the court. This past season – Rindge lost in the second round of the playoffs – Firmin started at point guard, his position for as long as he can remember. He explains he is a lefty so his favorite place to shoot from is the left corner. “I think that’s just wired into me a little bit.” When he is working out (“I haven’t done it since the season ended,” he murmurs shamefully, hanging his head), he benches 225. His vertical? Maybe because he is only 5’ 6” (‘me too!’ I blurt out) he has never measured his vertical. Honestly, I am still stuck on the thought of 225 pounds. I think I can lift 10.
I ask how he ranks, against his teammates, in competitiveness. “I’m the highest,” he laughs. “I’ll do anything to win. Without cheating — if that makes sense,” he chuckles. There’s that hangdog look again.
We talk about what is on his highlight reel (“I played really good at Brockton in 2023”). He sneaks in one more bite as we talk. Soon again, though, he looks away, out the large plate window onto Brattle Steet. “I remember the first time my dad brought me to a game. I still have the pictures in my phone,” he says softly, gesturing to his phone. “It was Rajan Rondo, Paul Pierce, all of them. And it was just so fun.”
“I thought my high school games were loud, but those Celtics games,” he exclaims, then trailing off. “Especially like in the playoffs or something. The game that Jaylen Brown hit that three on the Pacers to tie it. Wow,” he marvels.
Firmin closes the top of his takeaway box, with a few pieces of the quesadilla inside. “You can save some money and use your leftovers as a snack for later on,” I say to cheer him on. “No excuses,” I laugh, looking him dead in the eye. Firmin grins. “No excuses,” he vows in return. “No excuses.”
Editor’s Note: Firmin will attend Morgan State in the fall.
Susanne Beck is a freelance journalist and long-time contributor to Cambridge Day.
This interview was conducted in April 2026. It has been edited and condensed.
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