Hoops!I was just thinking about
California, and what I miss. I miss the games of basketball the most. I
used to play outside as often as possible. Sometimes it was shortly
after 7 am after a night shift in the ER, still in scrubs, and early
enough that I didn't have to pay the meter. There was a crew that used
to play every day down there, at Main in Laguna. I suspected independent wealth that
afforded them that kind of freedom. A few games, a good sweat, and I
could go home to sleep.
Top of the World, Laguna Beach, California
Tonight though I was thinking about another place up on top of
Laguna, called Top of the World. This is where
Courtney went to school. They had
a couple of half courts and there was a different, less skilled crew
that used to play on Saturdays around eleven. We had great games. Some
were doctors. One guy was a little guy that was over fifty and tough as
nails. Another guy used to play after running some insane
distance like 12 miles. I used to underestimate him when playing against
him, thinking that his energy stores would be spent. Not so. There was
another huge guy who didn't have too much dexterity. Every time I drove
the lane, I used to get hammered by this guy. I remember one time
getting slammed to the ground, a clear foul in a string of clear fouls,
and I got up and shouted to the world (the top of the world) that if I
got fouled like that again I was going to get angry! Big threat
from a small man... :-) The guy didn't really understand his strength.
Had some great games there. Another time there we were shooting around
before the games and we were talking about the number of balls for
shooting and the number of people there shooting around. We joked about
what the optimal number of basketballs would be relative to the number
of people. n - 1 where n equals the number of shooters if greater than
one. It was that kind of crowd.
Bluebird Canyon, Laguna Beach, California
There was another court in Bluebird canyon, a locale perhaps most
famous for its mudslides a year ago, and also in the 70s. One of my best
buddies Jeff Snyder introduced me to this little gem of a court. As
famous as the mudslides were, the court was just as hidden a secret. you
could go there just about any time and rarely be bothered by other
players. Jeff used to live not far from there, and he went to high
school (where he was a star hoopster) really close to there.
Bluebird had no paid parking. Jeff would take his black Jeep over,
and sometimes I'd take my forest green, 1968 Mercury Cougar over, the
kind with hidden headlights that folded over into the grill when turned
off. We were damn cool. We had dreams on that court. Jeff was going to
play for UCLA, and then for the Lakers. I was going to play for UCI, and
then be a doctor. Jeff could hit threes from anywhere on that court. It
was a court like the old Boston Garden in that there were divots and
dead spots and places where you had to know the lay of the land to get
your best game. There was a chicken-wire fence to the right of the goal,
and occasionally we had to hop the fence to go retrieve a ball. We had
countless games of one on one there with Jeff usually getting the upper
hand, but not with a damn hard fight, I'll tell you. Lotta sweat left on
that Bluebird blacktop.
The University of California at Irvine, California
Then there were the outside courts at UCI. Full courts ran there
every day of the week, except for maybe Sunday. I lost a lotta sweat on
those courts. They were blacktop too, but without too many bumps. I
could run forever on those courts. We ran games with Satish and Jerome
and sometimes Derrick and others from the Indian crew. There were a lot
of Asians who played out there, reflecting the student population at
UCI. Quickness, man. Quickness. Shake and bake faster than you can
think, I shoulda gone left. We would go into the night a lot of
times. The lights didn't go out until 10, and sometimes we had to stop
mid-game, deeply disappointed, when those lights went out. It was on the
far court there, nearest the tennis courts where I rang my bell on the
pole. I was driving, going all out, and sacrificed my forehead for the
sake of the drive. Satish told me that my head hit the pole so hard it
sounded like a bell ringing. I split a 2cm cut on my forehead, but
decided not to go to the ER. Just cleaned it and butterflied it at home.
Just about no scar now, unless I get some sun.
Off Michelson, Irvine, California
There was another half court on Michelson at the apartment complex
where I lived for a couple of years while at UCI. I used to go out there
for a couple of hours a day for a period of time. Whether people were
out there or not, I didn't care. It was for the love of the game. Junior
was the man of that court. He knew that court and mostly that backboard
like nobody else. He could hit a bank shot from 20 feet straight out, no
angle. He knew exactly where to hit it just about every time. He used to
say, "That's in your eyeball!" or "That's in your left
nostril!" after scoring. He went on to college ball. There were
others, high school players, really talented, who played out there. I
just learned and enjoyed it, and developed my game a bit out there.
Back to Irvine, California
There were the indoor courts at noon at UCI, and there was where the
best team ball was played. Scott Brooks would come out, and some of the
other UCI players from the early 90s. Then there were regular faculty
players who knew each other's game so well. I learned a lot there, and
spent a lot of hours there. I started playing intramurals on those
courts, and I still remember my first tentative layup during a game. It
was a finger roll straight down the middle, as tentative as a baby's
first steps. I was grateful before I was elated. Later on we won a
three-on-three intramural championship there, but my favorite memory
might be a time when we had a pick up game. Game to eleven and I was on
fire. I scored all eleven points for our team, and we wiped the place
up. On the last basket, furious in my splendour, I drove past my guy and
effortlessly scored the winner. My girlfriend at the time had arrived
just before, and in a fluid continuation of winning the game, I went
straight to her and planted a smooch on her smiling lips. She laughed, I
gloated, and we started the next game.
Woodbridge, Irvine, California
I lived in Woodbridge, a neighborhood in Irvine for my first year,
and I used to ride my bike to school, then back to the court afterwards.
I probably made the greatest strides on that court, working on moves,
running layups, shooting free throws, working on a turn-around from the
right of the goal...Later in life, maybe five years, when I looked after
Courtney during the day, when she
was in acting class nearby I would shoot free throws, 25 at a time,
aiming for an 80% rate. I got pretty close most of the time.
Other times at that same court, some of the same players would be
there as at the Michelson court. There was some cross-pollination. There
was another guy we called Toni who wore the Sikh turban of youth. It
wasn't a full turban, but had a ball on top that contained his hair.
He was the best player on the court.
Capistrano Valley and Capistrano Beach, California
Earlier on I first took a basketball in my hands because Larry Bird
did, and I saw what he could do with it in the NBA. That was during my
senior year in high school. I went out for the team, and simply because
we only had 200 or so people in the entire school, I made the team.
(There were seven of us on varsity, and I think I had a minute and a
half total playing time for the season. I was that bad.) But I couldn't
get enough regardless of my skilllessness (that's for you Marc Z). I
would hit the gym for a few minutes before classes. I would give it my
all in practice. A love of the game was born.
I hit a few places in Capo Beach a few times, and a few places in
Santa Barbara once or twice, courtesy of visits with Jeff. I hit some
tough courts, where I maybe didn't belong. I hit the Harvard gym once,
playing with an ex-girlfriend's then-current boyfriend, and we connected
on a give-and-go that was as pure, again, as a baby's view of the world.
It's funny what you remember, and it's remarkable how the purity of the
game, when played well, can stick with you.
The World
I've since played a full court game wearing dress pants, a sweater
and a scarf in Nainital, in the foothills of Himalayas. I've played
poorly on outdoor courts in Matero (Lusaka, Zambia) and just as poorly
on indoor courts also in Lusaka. It used to be that any court or hoop
I'd see would get me all wistful for a game. I've played on courts where
I was the only white guy - countless times. I've played on courts where
I was the only guy who spoke English - again countless times... As in
life, those artificial divisions don't matter. You let the universal
game speak for itself. I attended Magic Johnson's first retirement at
the Forum in Los Angeles. Larry Bird and Dennis Johnson (Celtics from
that era) were present. Those are some hoops-related highlights.
Those are my hoops memories. I still love the game, but I'm so out
of practice these days. Oh! I almost forgot a claim to fame. I have
dunked a basketball on a regulation hoop twice in my life. I made it a
goal to dunk during a time when I was in the throes of passionate
obsession with the game. I was lifting, lean, playing 2, 3 hours a day,
and un-be-fucking-stoppable sometimes. So one day I was at a little full
court with a couple of friends. (That's key - I have witnesses.) I went
for it, and in a moment that surprised me as fast as the ball went
through, I threw one down. "Did you see that!?" I asked?
Leila did, but Grace had missed it. I tried a couple of more times then
and there, but failed. That same week (I was living at the Michelson
complex), I dunked on the Michelson court. But also that same week,
later, during a game, I came down on a guy who was there playing after
work, and playing in boots. I tore my right ankle up badly. I
barely was able to walk home to my apartment, and call my mom,
whimpering.
Despite the injury, I was so intently key on the game of basketball
that I wrapped it up tight the next day and was out shooting free throws, But I
have never been the same on the court since. Just listen to my ankle
when I go down stairs...it clicks and crepits with every step.
Nevertheless... :-)
