Next One Up: Former Hopkins Midfielder Matt Hanna Changing Lives in Baltimore

Matt Hanna wouldn’t describe himself as a poet. An adept communicator and motivator, sure, but a wordsmith he is not.

Hanna is genuine. No frills. So, it’s ironic that when choosing the name for his non-profit organization that would soon change the lives of hundreds of young men living in Baltimore, he was moved by the writings of Marc Kelly Smith, the founder of the poetry slam movement.

“When you get to the top of the mountain / Pull the next one up,” Smith wrote. “Then there’ll be two of you / Roped together at the waist / Tired and proud, knowing the mountain / Knowing the human force it took / To bring both of you there.”

“Pull the next one up” became the rallying cry for Hanna’s life’s work. He founded Next One Up in 2009. It has grown from a dozen members to more than 100 with a lengthy waiting list of others eager to join. Without a dedicated home since its inception, Next One Up reached its own figurative mountaintop in September when it opened its new $2.7 million, 14,000-square foot-facility in Baltimore’s Govans community.

Situated across the street from The Senator Theater, a historic Baltimore City landmark, Next One Up’s new home — fittingly called “Base Camp” — is a hidden treasure tucked away in the otherwise old-timey neighborhood.

Walking to the third floor of the nondescript building in Belvedere Square is like being whisked away into a modern, technologically advanced learning center. Hanna’s thought of it all. There’s a STEM lab and 3D printing room, large classrooms and independent study nooks, locker rooms and a full weight room and even a fully operational barbershop.

Next One Up is a place for the young, challenged men of Baltimore to find purpose. For Hanna, a former Johns Hopkins midfielder (1999-2002), it all started with lacrosse — and a USA Lacrosse First Stick Program grant.

“Put a stick in a kid’s hand,” Hanna said, “and just see how his life changes.”

HANNA GREW UP IN GENEVA, N.Y., but his second home was Baltimore. His father, Mike Hanna, was a lacrosse lifer who coached football and lacrosse at Johns Hopkins in the early 1970s when he returned from a tour in Vietnam as a paratrooper and officer in military intelligence in the U.S. Army. His mother, Mary Anne, was a teacher in Dundalk.

Matt Hanna was born after his family moved to New Jersey when his father became the head men’s lacrosse coach at Princeton (1977-81). An opportunity for Mike Hanna to be the athletic director at his alma mater, Hobart College, brought the family to Geneva.

But every summer, the Hannas went to Ocean City, Maryland. Matt Hanna fondly remembers Orioles games at Memorial Stadium and his experiences taking in the charms of the Charm City. Looking for a college, it was almost inevitable he’d call Baltimore home.

“I came here at 18, graduated from Johns Hopkins, and then I stayed,” Hanna said. “I wanted to become a teacher, and education became what I loved. Being around this city for so long as a teacher, I thought, ‘There's more I could be doing.’ That really became how Next One Up was born, figuring out problems that I wanted to solve.”

There’s more to Hanna’s story, like his three-year stint in Major League Lacrosse and his sudden retirement from the pro game in 2008 after an All-Star season with the Denver Outlaws. His college career left him disappointed, and his pro success served as a prove-it moment after being selected 163rd overall in the 2005 MLL Draft — “I would have picked myself even later,” he joked — but visions of what he wanted to achieve steered him away from the field.

He’s quick to change the subject and talk about his true passion. Baltimore came calling, and the seeds for the future were planted when he began teaching at Cristo Rey Jesuit High School, which had opened in 2007. In 2011, Cristo Rey became one of the pilot teams in USA Lacrosse’s redesigned First Stick Program which not only seeded teams with grants but also continued to support them in three-year cycles. The Hornets received full equipment for 25 players, among other benefits.

“Like most lacrosse people, we always try to fix problems with lacrosse,” Hanna said. “I saw a huge void after school for kids in Baltimore.”

Sixty students tried out for the Cristo Rey boys’ lacrosse team when it launched. Even after the team struggled to an 0-40 mark in its first several seasons, players celebrated that first win like it meant the world.  “It was the purest time coaching I ever had,” Hanna said.

Hanna knew he was on to something. He also knew Baltimore was as much a football town as it was a lacrosse town. So he expanded the offerings of Next One Up, a still fledgling organization doing its best to make a difference for the people who entrusted their children with Hanna.

Without a dedicated space, Next One Up would meet just about anywhere. If it rained, Hanna would find a way indoors. If the building or classroom was locked, Hanna improvised — like the time he held a session at a downtown Burger King because the library was closed.

In those days, Hanna worked with a shoestring budget six hours per week on Sundays from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. With the opening of Base Camp, participants spend 24-30 hours per week at Next One Up in a building that is entirely their own — and it’s all free.

“Every corner of this place is really designed for them and to inspire them,” Hanna said, gesturing toward the inspirational quotes on the walls. “Those are their video games. That is their weight room. We’re just getting going.”

WHEN RONALD CARNEY’S MOTHER, RHONDA, DIED OF PULMONARY AND HEART DISEASE, the 18-year-old was lost. Hanna, who many simply call “Coach,” was the first person he called. Within hours, Hanna was there with a tray of lasagna.

“He knew that I probably wouldn’t be able to eat for a couple days,” Carney said.

Carney, now 28, credits his success to Next One Up. Growing up, he and his brother, Eura Carney-Knox, lived in a single-parent household.

“I remember days she would get us full, and she wouldn’t eat,” Carney said. “My mom, she’s my hero. I know the sacrifices that she made. She had holes in her clothes so we wouldn’t have holes in ours.”

Rhonda Carney at first was hesitant about Next One Up. Her son met Hanna at a Charm City Youth Lacrosse clinic going into his junior year of high school. “It was something unexpected, for a white guy to be in the hoods of Baltimore helping out these young Black boys,” he said.

His mother’s decision opened doors — literally and figuratively. Through Hanna’s mentorship, Carney enrolled at Howard Community College to play lacrosse and then played at Ferrum College from 2016-19.

But going into his junior year, Carney didn’t have a place to stay. In came Hanna.

“I don’t know what would have happened if Coach Hanna and his wife didn’t allow me to live with them,” Carney said. “I probably would have dropped out of school. He’s family.”

Now, Carney works as a clubhouse manager for The Post, a sports networking company co-founded by former NFL quarterback Christian Ponder, in New York City.

Carney’s just one Next One Up success story. Terry Jones is another. A redshirt junior at Old Dominion University, the East Baltimore product is a free safety on the football team.

Jones’ mother, Giselle, also had reservations about Next One Up. However, she was open to the idea of a space that would allow her son to come out of his shell. He kept to himself and had disciplinary issues in high school.

“We were seeking behavioral therapy for him,” she said. “With the program at the beginning, it was rough. He almost got booted out. But we had a meeting with [Hanna], and he was able to stay.”

Jones didn’t squander his second chance. Now he’s the first person Hanna calls when newcomers to the program act up.

“I’ve seen firsthand how so many Black boys and Black men, they find needing help a weakness,” Giselle Jones said. “That’s one thing I’ve told my boys: 'If you’re hurting, let me know. Never hold things in.' You have a lot of Black men whose dads or uncles have told them that men aren’t supposed to cry. That’s another reason why I’m glad Terry landed in Next One Up. He was able to open up there.”

The image of Terry Jones is now a prominent fixture in Next One Up’s weight room, next to a quote by the Greek philosopher Heraclitus: “Out of every 100 men, 10 shouldn’t even be there, 80 are just targets, nine are the real fighters, and we are lucky to have them, for they make the battle. Ah, but the one, one is a warrior, and he will bring the others home.”

The framed college jerseys of Carney and Jones now hang in the halls of Next One Up, serving as inspiration to aid others in their climb. “When they get here, the goal is that they stay here,” Hanna said.

That was partly the inspiration for the barbershop. The neighborhood barbershop a special place in Black communities. It’s also a place where students can learn a skill or get a fresh cut for an upcoming interview — free of charge.

Next One Up paid for barber school for 19-year-old Diallo, who has a waiting list for haircuts. The sleek black barber’s chair with polished chrome fixtures sits next to a large window looking out at the antiquated neighborhood.

Like the rest of Next One Up, the students run the barbershop — with one caveat. Hanna insists that only 80s and 90s hip hop be played on the record player inside the room adorned with vinyl of Wu-Tang Clan, Jay-Z and other artists. “These kids don’t appreciate real hip hop,” he said.

In a July 2020 story for ABC News, Detroit rapper Royce da 5’9” said hip hop artists in the 80s pushed the envelope and became the voice of the streets.

“We spoke our own unapologetic truth,” he said. “We spoke about environments that were overlooked, that didn’t have a voice, you know, that didn’t have a say, that didn’t have pretty much anything.”

Maybe the messages of the 80s will resonate with members of Next One Up, which fosters community for Black youth in Baltimore and provides a pathway to success.

“At Next One Up, when I looked to the left and to the right, it’s another guy that looks like me,” Carney said. “It’s a brother. It’s a friend.”