When the ball meets the pavement, when that asphalt echo reverberates throughout my neighborhood and I know that somewhere a young boy or girl is dribbling down a
sidewalk or working on their jump-shot despite the frigid winter winds, that familiar twinge of nostalgia and the innocent love of the game always hits me. Sometimes it’s potent and overwhelming, like when I’m playing 21 with my buddies in a concrete driveway and for whatever reason I realize what that moment really means and I tell myself to mark it and appreciate it, cling to it before it passes. But other times it’s subtle, perhaps even imperceptible, silently stirring up an ancient ache to grab my worn smooth basketball and head to the playgrounds for an impromptu five-on-five game in the middle of whatever I’m doing.
With each bounce, with every ringing echo of the sweet pavement ping or the warm hardwood drum some sentimental string inside me resonates as well, reawakening that childlike love for a game that is simple and direct, yet complex and far-reaching in its impact.
And with another year behind us and the next year peeking over the horizon, I can’t help but return again to a thought that continually draws me back to the game of basketball and a conversation that I’m not certain fans or even players and coaches know how to put into words or contextualize.
But we do recognize it. Appreciate it. Even if we don’t know how to verbalize it or even understand it, we feel it. And we take it for granted ninety-nine times out of a hundred but the beauty is that no matter how often we overlook it, disregard it or deconstruct it and cast it aside as something quaint but ultimately meaningless in the grand scheme of the business of the National Basketball Association, that one time out of a hundred is all it takes. And we feel it once again.
To remind us of what we’ve known all along, that it might just be a game, a simple sport involving a ball and a hoop, but that the effects of what takes place on that court and within a team overwhelm the game itself and transform what is in essence a meaningless game into something that we as individuals so desperately long for and find meaning in: a bond.
I’m not talking about the bond we feel towards individual players that we may feel as if we know but more so, the bond that the game itself engenders. Generation across generation, conquering social divides and bridging all who have ever heard that sweet swish of the net or held their breath as the flight of the ball coincides with the ringing buzzer in the ears together like few things can anymore. The bond between all of us who simply put, can’t help but love the game of basketball.
The camaraderie, the understanding that one person can’t accomplish or reach great heights on their own, the desire to be a part of something harrowing and worthwhile, to endure the struggles and setbacks for the hope of achieving something tremendous in the future, these are all things that we all yearn to feel, to experience. And yet it is so rare in this day and age to find something that is not more exclusive and divisive than inclusive and uniting. But the bond that basketball, that a child’s game is built upon is a very common ground that requires only one thing from you, from me, from any of us: appreciation.
Appreciation not for the people who make the league possible (although certainly they are to be appreciated) or even the coaches and players themselves, but for what the game stands for. What all sports are meant to be: Pillars of pure and equal competition. Where not every athlete is equal in terms of skill or athleticism, but equal in opportunity to make the most of their hard work and talent and further equal within the context of a team. The game allows us to appreciate the grace and awe of human athleticism, the beauty and potential that teamwork and hardwork possess and the almost limitless strength that unity and heart hold if we could just somehow grasp them.
My brother never played organized basketball. My father did but his fondest memories growing up were watching Pistol Pete Maravich. So to say there is a disconnect between the three of us is putting it lightly in terms of basketball knowledge and basketball eras. But none of that mattered the night after Christmas as we were all gathered together in front of the television, urging Durant to take that three and put away the Bobcats and then reminiscing about how we used to stay outside well into the summer nights playing H-O-R-S-E, just spending time with each other while my mom lounged in her chair offering insights and jokes about our shooting forms or the ridiculousness of trying an over the shoulder hook shot from behind the back board.
I know that if you’re here, reading this article that I probably don’t need to highlight how powerful of a community the game of basketball can make… or how wonderful it is to be able to share a bond, any bond, with your loved ones and sometimes even complete strangers because we all know how rare that is today. Maybe it’s the purity of our childhood love of playing games that allows us to momentarily drop all pretense and just high-five the stranger next to us after an amazing dunk or game winning shot—-or maybe it’s the knowledge that we share a common interest, a common love for something with them that elicits a comfort and excitement to share that moment with someone, anyone.
But whatever it is, I know that one day very soon my daughter will place her tiny hands around a basketball, look at me with a smile, and try to bounce the ball in our driveway.
And I’ll wish for ninety-nine more moments just like that one.
love the feel (and possibly the sweaty smell) of walking into a gym alone and just knowing its you and the hoop. Very few experiences overtake that
We should have a blog on blog game against a rival blog like dallas or SA
@The DON
ROFL!!!!
@f5alcon
Took the words out of my mouth. It's amazing what those MidFirst ads do to me during the Thunder games. The concrete and those chain nets make me want to go outside and shoot till my arms give out.
Great article, I grew up on basketball, shot everyday in my driveway, yet now i havnt played but once in 8 years, i really need a house with a hoop.
J.G. You are an excellent writer. Your article puts the sport of basketball in a perspective we ALL can relate to regardless of our age. Thank you for your unique perspective and contribution to this Blog.
No better feeling than walking into a gym full of strangers, scoping out the scene, evaluating your victims, then stepping on the court when it's your team's turn and viciously humiliating your opponent. Dunking on them and talking about how their mother. Breaking their ankles and stopping to point and laugh. Telling them to go home and never come back to this court unless they like being embarrassed as they're walking off the court after you hit a game winning three from 4 feet behind the line. High fiving your teammates after every shot. undercutting your man when he drives to the hole for a layup. Calling travel on your man when none took place just to get in his head and intimidate him and then snatching the ball from him as he starts disputing your call, telling him "I said it was a travel, therefore it is a travel. Wanna try taking the ball out of my hands?"
I love this game.
@GAP
No disrespect taken here. Twas a good column indeed.
I think im gonna make my 9yr old son print this and read it everyday as will I. This write up, to me is the best i've ever read on here (no disrespect to Royce or anyone else) :-)
Your a basketball Savant J.G.; thanks for that.
One of my youngest basketball memories was that I had an uncle by marriage (a man, my uncle Ernie, who was married to my Mom's older sister) who was a minor league pro basketball player. This was before the D league. Back in the black and white era of the early '50's. My Uncle Ernie was in a still b+w pic driving the lane against the Harlem Globetrotters. It was incredible. This was the HG team with Curly Neal and Meadowlark Lemon. I asked my Uncle before his death if he actually beat the Harlem Globetrotters? He told me "nobody beats the Harlem Globetrotters". Classic. My greatest basketball memory.
Outstanding Post.
My son is 20months old and his gift for Xmas this year was a nerf basketball goal. It has been nonstop basketball for the last two days.
Thanks for the stories and responses everyone. Sorry about the not arguing aspect though, justin. :)
And I definitely do think that having a team to root for, a team that is yours whether location or hometowns have anything to do with that, for some reason that just adds to the love of the game.
Great read! Thanks!
My love of basketball started with my Dad too J.G., and the irony is, he never played and has the worst free-throw form, he makes Desmond with that elbow flailing thing look smooth! But he was(probably still is) a HELLUVA rebounder!
It is a tribute to him, that I count among the things I love best, the smell of freshly waxed parquet floors, and the sight of dust motes dancing in the shafts of sunlight through dirty gym windows. My favorite possessions in high school were my lime green/black/and white David Robinson shoes, and my own set of keys to the "new" gym. (They didn't even bother to lock the "old gym"!!)
Even though I was a girl(strike) and played six-on-six(double strike) in rural Oklahoma, my favorite team was the Detroit Pistons, and even though I was a cheerleader (the term is used VERY loosely in rural Oklahoma), it was my copy of Nintendo's "Double Dribble" that kept the boys over at my house on Christmas break 1989! You can't hold it against the old man that he still thinks Bobby Knight is the greatest coach of all time--chair or no chair!
I love basketball because I love my Dad. The fact that my husband LOVES our Thunder season tickets probably more than I do is just a bit of happy karmic coincidence.
Thanks for the post J.G. I needed a good cry.
I feel very uncomfortable with this article. No points to argue. :)
Nice one..
Thanks J.G.
You're a good writer J.G.
Makes me wish my driveway wasn't still covered in snow and ice. I'd make my wife play HORSE right now.
There's nothing like going to a gym not knowing a soul, getting in a game, and connecting with people you don't know. I'm not a great player by any means, but I always appreciate people that know how to play. The flip side is that I can't stand playing in pick up games with people that don't know how to play the game. They'll pass the ball from the top of the key and then just stand there - rendering the whole offense stagnant. They won't run off a screen or block their man out. It kills the game for me... But somedays, you get on a team of 5 guys that know how to play and it feels right. It's like you've been practicing together for months. It's like you have a coach to unify the play of everyone on the court. You can lose yourself in games like that and there's nothing like it.
Enjoyed your thoughts, J.G. There are three TVs in my house, one for each person. These days, the only times we'll watch something together are the Thunder games in crunch time.
Basketball is so stinking unique. Baseball, you can't play pickup with your buddies, or at least REAL baseball.
Football, the same. Too much equipment to get, to hard to organize.
But basketball, it's a constant sport. Maybe you don't play at the level you used to, but find a gym with at least one rim and a ball that bounces and you can play. I don't play pickup near as much as I did even last year, but anytime my buddy calls and says, "Hoopin tonight... you in?" I never hesitate with a yes.
Wow - too many thoughts going through my head right now - too many basketball memories to share . . .
I will just say that when I'm playing, it's like being in a different world . . .
and I love every second of it . . .