It's going to be hard for me to write about basketball even though my Jayhawks lost in the championship game of the NCAA tournament this last season. That being said I'm proud of the heart they showed and it reminded how much I love the game.
I've been playing basketball since I was a young nerd playing on the playground of Quindaro elementary school. There was something about taking your team and battling some other squad. I wasn't even that big... well actually I was little. I was the littlest person on the team clear into my teens.
Me and the neighborhood kids would walk to Klam park (Home of many a crime scene) on Saturdays and pretend to be our favorite NBA Stars. I was always Scottie Pippen. Not because I liked him or anything, I just played great defense and wouldn't score unless it was an easy one.
Thinking back, I really had some slow developing game but there's one thing that would always get me notice; I would hustle my ass off. Steals, rebounds and put backs aren't about height or strength (I had neither) it was about desire, that I had. When you're the littlest thing in the hood you have to show something to avoid being a punk.
Basketball was the first thing that could unleash the raw emotion in me. It was amazing how much faster I could move and how many people I could embarrass with the sheer will to do it.
As my skills improved, that switch in my head that made let the beast out always remained. Due to the grace of God, my body finally started to thicken out about my sophomore year in college. My small stature kept me out of organized ball since the 9th grade but I learned to love the game on the streets with my boys, it will forever leave me a street baller.
The new body and continually growing skill set helped me embarrass rich white kids at the university gym. It also gave me a shared love with my frat brothers; more street ballers.
It is crazy how the game can bring people together. I remember one lazy day at the gym, I was just shooting around with one of my rivals in another black fraternity. The Kappas(Him) and the Sigmas(Me) had an uneasy relationship since one of my frat brothers pulled a gun on one of the Kappas after they jumped one of us at a club a couple of years before. Things were cooling off but we were all a little uneasy.
Anyway about five 6'3" white guys came in asking for a game. Now, me and the Kappa were both about 6 foot and no strangers to the court. Our proposed teammates were some 5'6"ish freshman that were complete scrubs. We should have rejected the challenge but we weren't about to run from no fucking fratboys. They were some athletic white boys too. We shouldn't have had a chance but after they warmed up (and we prayed for another tall guy to show up). It was time to play.
In a game to 11, me and the Kappa dropped 10 straight shots on 10 possessions. (I had at least 5). We both had blocks, steals and rebounds but by that time we were tired as hell. The white boys climbed to within three. Then I did something spectacular (of course). I picked this dudes pocket extra clean and the Kappa went out on the break. I was too tired to run down the court with him so I passed it off. He was on a 1 on 2 break. He shook left, shook right and threw up this NASTY fadeaway over the outstretched arms of one of the defenders and rattled it home.
I have no idea why we celebrated so hard. All five of us acted like we just won the NCAA championship. The Kappa ran up on me yelling "Yeah, Nigga!!!' We gave each other the hardest bro-shake ever. (Half hug, half handshake). We both were yelling "That's what I'm talking about." Me and that nigga have been friends ever since. A few years later our respective fraternities got into it again and me him played the peacemakers. If it weren't for that one basketball game we wouldn't even have been on speaking terms and I probably would have gone upside his head myself.
That's the type of stuff the game can do. That's not even counting the highs and lows you get from being a fan.
Watching my Jayhawks break the hearts of Missouri fans one last time at the feild house was a slice of heaven. It brought back to time when I was a kid and get so amped watching Jaque Vaughn lead the Hawks to victory. It was the same feeling people got from watching Mike or Magic or Larry Legend.
The game provided role models for inner city kids and the only catharsis a lot of us could find.
The game provides our first introductions to rules, friendship, battle, justice and love. All that stuff takes place in their purest forms and for that I'm eternally grateful.
I've been playing basketball since I was a young nerd playing on the playground of Quindaro elementary school. There was something about taking your team and battling some other squad. I wasn't even that big... well actually I was little. I was the littlest person on the team clear into my teens.
Me and the neighborhood kids would walk to Klam park (Home of many a crime scene) on Saturdays and pretend to be our favorite NBA Stars. I was always Scottie Pippen. Not because I liked him or anything, I just played great defense and wouldn't score unless it was an easy one.
Thinking back, I really had some slow developing game but there's one thing that would always get me notice; I would hustle my ass off. Steals, rebounds and put backs aren't about height or strength (I had neither) it was about desire, that I had. When you're the littlest thing in the hood you have to show something to avoid being a punk.
Basketball was the first thing that could unleash the raw emotion in me. It was amazing how much faster I could move and how many people I could embarrass with the sheer will to do it.
As my skills improved, that switch in my head that made let the beast out always remained. Due to the grace of God, my body finally started to thicken out about my sophomore year in college. My small stature kept me out of organized ball since the 9th grade but I learned to love the game on the streets with my boys, it will forever leave me a street baller.
The new body and continually growing skill set helped me embarrass rich white kids at the university gym. It also gave me a shared love with my frat brothers; more street ballers.
It is crazy how the game can bring people together. I remember one lazy day at the gym, I was just shooting around with one of my rivals in another black fraternity. The Kappas(Him) and the Sigmas(Me) had an uneasy relationship since one of my frat brothers pulled a gun on one of the Kappas after they jumped one of us at a club a couple of years before. Things were cooling off but we were all a little uneasy.
Anyway about five 6'3" white guys came in asking for a game. Now, me and the Kappa were both about 6 foot and no strangers to the court. Our proposed teammates were some 5'6"ish freshman that were complete scrubs. We should have rejected the challenge but we weren't about to run from no fucking fratboys. They were some athletic white boys too. We shouldn't have had a chance but after they warmed up (and we prayed for another tall guy to show up). It was time to play.
In a game to 11, me and the Kappa dropped 10 straight shots on 10 possessions. (I had at least 5). We both had blocks, steals and rebounds but by that time we were tired as hell. The white boys climbed to within three. Then I did something spectacular (of course). I picked this dudes pocket extra clean and the Kappa went out on the break. I was too tired to run down the court with him so I passed it off. He was on a 1 on 2 break. He shook left, shook right and threw up this NASTY fadeaway over the outstretched arms of one of the defenders and rattled it home.
I have no idea why we celebrated so hard. All five of us acted like we just won the NCAA championship. The Kappa ran up on me yelling "Yeah, Nigga!!!' We gave each other the hardest bro-shake ever. (Half hug, half handshake). We both were yelling "That's what I'm talking about." Me and that nigga have been friends ever since. A few years later our respective fraternities got into it again and me him played the peacemakers. If it weren't for that one basketball game we wouldn't even have been on speaking terms and I probably would have gone upside his head myself.
That's the type of stuff the game can do. That's not even counting the highs and lows you get from being a fan.
Watching my Jayhawks break the hearts of Missouri fans one last time at the feild house was a slice of heaven. It brought back to time when I was a kid and get so amped watching Jaque Vaughn lead the Hawks to victory. It was the same feeling people got from watching Mike or Magic or Larry Legend.
The game provided role models for inner city kids and the only catharsis a lot of us could find.
The game provides our first introductions to rules, friendship, battle, justice and love. All that stuff takes place in their purest forms and for that I'm eternally grateful.
Comments
Post a Comment
Got comments? Let it out. I always do.