I grew up in a suburban existence, as many Americans do. I was exposed to a fair share of basketball- but it was not a passion in my neighborhood. Not a passion to my friends or their parents. Who was most interested in basketball besides my own parents, they who could miss huge local college games for other normal life matters? Probably my friend across the other side of Bryan Park, Patrick, whose dad was a huge Purdue Boilermaker fan of all things! Did people play heated games in the warm months outdoors nearby Pat's house at the park? I did not really play there until I was 17 and 18, so I wouldn't know.
Do you know where there are places, courts and neighborhoods, where basketball is part of the culture? Places where people live to get on the court and shoot and pass and block and rebound and dribble, and above all score, by jump shot or dunk, beating the opponent? In the United States there are easily hundreds, more possibly thousands of such places. In my hometown, a college town, a few places would qualify. On the IU campus there was the HPER building. I suppose the YMCA had its own charm for certain players, but the IU campus at that center with its multiple courts had real players and real athletes with real attitudes. You need that beyond the skill and technique, to have the passion.
In my church community there were a few guys that basketball, playing or watching, made them a bit passionate about, but it did not overlap into my neighborhood or household directly. So basketball passion came across to me in smaller but eventually unrelenting waves. And it took a while. Did I ever truly achieve it? As a player, maybe not, but likely as a fan, yes. Nevertheless, in all honesty, I have had a few fits of boiling moments of what seemed like passionate play in courts from Indiana to Utah to California to Virginia.
Basketball can be like dancing for some, or jazz for others. It is a type of art; a sport and a science. Almost a martial art or transcendental yoga, like tai chi. It is a dance, even though some do not recognize it as such. Some people love dance. I get it. Do it, watch it, analyze it, teach it, enjoy it. Dance is for those who do and for many others to observe. It is a beautiful thing.
When I was 14 or 15 my church basketball team went to a country community gymnasium in rural Smithville (not far south of Bloomington, Indiana) and we witnessed a passion from the folks down there. I knew some of them from my schooling. They stomped us. And they got loud. They killed us because it meant more to more of them than it meant for more of us. It was not just height, weight, age and speed. There was time invested. And they had put more energy and zeal into the game. The dance.
They seemed pretty passionate. But not all are. However, there is something about the state between Lake Michigan and the Ohio River, bounded by the Wabash and the Midwest Compromise, and the sport of the peach baskets, the netted hoops.
The main dance of my home state of Indiana. It is very much alive and well many, many other places and also now in many other lands. Have you heard of the passion in Lithuania? No joke. Spain is great at soccer (futbol), but they have multiple all-stars in the NBA. Greece has players. Italy. Croatia. Argentina. Brazil. Russia, Ukraine, even China. It has grown across the planet. Like jazz. Like dance.
A sportswriter was recently interviewed on Charlie Rose who wrote the book "Scribe". His name I since found out is Bob Ryan. He described the NBA as "steak" and college basketball as "really good hamburger". Fair enough, many would disagree. But running that analogy a little further, in Indiana the high school game is comparable to hot dogs. Cheap mixed pork meat in buns.
But the thing is, Hoosiers generally really love hot dogs, i.e., high school basketball. More than anywhere else.
In the 1980s, for example, the small state of Indiana had 18 of the top 20 sized basketball gyms in the country. Why? We love hot dogs/the high school game.
That can be the New York steak or Los Angeles hamburger. Delicious. Whatever the occasion or taste, they both hit the spot for basketball fans.
In dance, we talk of high-brow ballet, medium-rung ball room, and then what: tap or hip hop?
Well, Hoosiers like them all really. But the youngest and the lowest form can often be the most entertaining. Why? Because it is accessible, and it belongs to them.
Small town teams led by Larry Bird or Damon Bailey (from the other side of Lake Monroe as aforementioned Smithville) versus the big city mammoths like Eric Gordon and Greg Oden. Or the tweener teams like Jay Edwards from Marion or Jon Holmes from Bloomington.
Ciy, suburb, or rural village, the dance is what is prized.
Pass. Dribble. Rebound. Block. Shoot. Score. Win.
Just keep dancing on a cold Friday night.
Blog on, EMC.
Do you know where there are places, courts and neighborhoods, where basketball is part of the culture? Places where people live to get on the court and shoot and pass and block and rebound and dribble, and above all score, by jump shot or dunk, beating the opponent? In the United States there are easily hundreds, more possibly thousands of such places. In my hometown, a college town, a few places would qualify. On the IU campus there was the HPER building. I suppose the YMCA had its own charm for certain players, but the IU campus at that center with its multiple courts had real players and real athletes with real attitudes. You need that beyond the skill and technique, to have the passion.
In my church community there were a few guys that basketball, playing or watching, made them a bit passionate about, but it did not overlap into my neighborhood or household directly. So basketball passion came across to me in smaller but eventually unrelenting waves. And it took a while. Did I ever truly achieve it? As a player, maybe not, but likely as a fan, yes. Nevertheless, in all honesty, I have had a few fits of boiling moments of what seemed like passionate play in courts from Indiana to Utah to California to Virginia.
Basketball can be like dancing for some, or jazz for others. It is a type of art; a sport and a science. Almost a martial art or transcendental yoga, like tai chi. It is a dance, even though some do not recognize it as such. Some people love dance. I get it. Do it, watch it, analyze it, teach it, enjoy it. Dance is for those who do and for many others to observe. It is a beautiful thing.
When I was 14 or 15 my church basketball team went to a country community gymnasium in rural Smithville (not far south of Bloomington, Indiana) and we witnessed a passion from the folks down there. I knew some of them from my schooling. They stomped us. And they got loud. They killed us because it meant more to more of them than it meant for more of us. It was not just height, weight, age and speed. There was time invested. And they had put more energy and zeal into the game. The dance.
They seemed pretty passionate. But not all are. However, there is something about the state between Lake Michigan and the Ohio River, bounded by the Wabash and the Midwest Compromise, and the sport of the peach baskets, the netted hoops.
The main dance of my home state of Indiana. It is very much alive and well many, many other places and also now in many other lands. Have you heard of the passion in Lithuania? No joke. Spain is great at soccer (futbol), but they have multiple all-stars in the NBA. Greece has players. Italy. Croatia. Argentina. Brazil. Russia, Ukraine, even China. It has grown across the planet. Like jazz. Like dance.
A sportswriter was recently interviewed on Charlie Rose who wrote the book "Scribe". His name I since found out is Bob Ryan. He described the NBA as "steak" and college basketball as "really good hamburger". Fair enough, many would disagree. But running that analogy a little further, in Indiana the high school game is comparable to hot dogs. Cheap mixed pork meat in buns.
But the thing is, Hoosiers generally really love hot dogs, i.e., high school basketball. More than anywhere else.
In the 1980s, for example, the small state of Indiana had 18 of the top 20 sized basketball gyms in the country. Why? We love hot dogs/the high school game.
That can be the New York steak or Los Angeles hamburger. Delicious. Whatever the occasion or taste, they both hit the spot for basketball fans.
In dance, we talk of high-brow ballet, medium-rung ball room, and then what: tap or hip hop?
Well, Hoosiers like them all really. But the youngest and the lowest form can often be the most entertaining. Why? Because it is accessible, and it belongs to them.
Small town teams led by Larry Bird or Damon Bailey (from the other side of Lake Monroe as aforementioned Smithville) versus the big city mammoths like Eric Gordon and Greg Oden. Or the tweener teams like Jay Edwards from Marion or Jon Holmes from Bloomington.
Ciy, suburb, or rural village, the dance is what is prized.
Pass. Dribble. Rebound. Block. Shoot. Score. Win.
Just keep dancing on a cold Friday night.
Blog on, EMC.
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