In the beginning, the bishop’s altar was covered with a pile of discarded sofa cushions, shoeboxes, plastic decorative flowers, lighting fixtures and other bagged trash.

Squatters were sleeping in the choir loft and the wood that comprised the white, ornate archways was stripped and chewed away, resembling the outer layer of a diseased oak tree.

In the basement, an ankle-high river of brown sludge expanded with each rainfall and snowstorm that seeped into the building through the holes in the collapsed roof.

The place on Buena Vista Avenue smelled of wet clothes, dead animals and mold. Bishop Michael Martin purchased the property with the blessing of the Gospel .

Tabernacle deacons and trustees for $4,900 at a Detroit city auction 20 months ago, unaware that he’d eventually need to remove more than 70 dumpsters full of crumbling brick, warped boards, shorted wire, animal feces and cracked plaster.

I wanted this job … bad. Because I felt like I knew this community.

I played here,” Campbell began. He went on to say that as far as team identity or culture went, this team was going to take on the identity of the city of Detroit.

“This city has been down. It’s found a way to overcome adversity,” Campbell continued.

“This team is going to kick you in the teeth … and when you knock us down, on the way up we’re going to bite a kneecap off … and we’re going to get up.

and if you knock us down again, we’re going to get up and bite off the other kneecap.”