What happened to pickup basketball?

What happened to pickup basketball games in Berkeley?

From the late 70s to the late 80s, I cruised Berkeley looking for pickup games of basektball that provided a good game without too much tension. A little tension was good, though. At various times, I played in games at Ohlone, Live Oak, parking lot courts on Hearst, the Cal courts on Bancroft (gone), Marin School, Claremont Middle School and Willard. I paid to play at the Berkeley and Oakland YMCA and at Club Sport in Oakland's City Center.

This is a picture from Live Oak Park in 1980--strong players of all ages going at it. I lacked the confidence to join in.

Since the 90s, I have almost exclusively played in organized games with people I know. Mostly with white guys in my general age range.

I still keep an eye out for games--but they are few and far between. Ocassionally three on three games break out at Cordonices, Ohlone or Live Oak, but the quality and frequency of games seems to have dropped considerably.

At left, is a game on April 29 at Live Oak. A bunch of white guys who played poorly. I decided I'd have more fun shooting around than trying to join in. Less chance of injury, too.

The last time I played at Ohlone, the first game was at a high level. College guys touching the rim who probably all knew each other. The game ended and they left en masse. The game changed into a halfway house outing with a mixed-bag of players some who couldn't hit a layup.

What happened? I think there are many factors, and few them reflect well on where our society is headed.

Some kids play, but even the best outdoor games I have seen in the last few years were organized at People's Park as part of the Twi-Lite Basketball program. These are "organized" pickup games.

Here are four eighth graders who played with the big boys last summer at People's Park Twi-Lite league. Of course, they knew the organizers.

People like me are boring--to me.

Orlando, Ken and I went to B.H.S. together. This is a picture of us across the railroad tracks from Aquatic Park in Berkeley around 1981 for a big outdoor punk show, Eastern Front.

Orlando was a shy artistic type. He wrote songs and took photographs and spent a lot of time in the dark room at BHS.

Ken was into pop culture, especially music, movies and comics. He was the only male in a tap class at BHS.

Neither were into sports. Neither fit into ethnic stereotypes. Neither had fathers around. Both had ideas and perspectives different from me.

I see Orlando ocassionaly on BART or at concerts. He is still living a life on the fringe of society. Ken works for a software company in Emeryville. I see him often.

As I age, I miss meeting people who see the world differently than I do. I am delighted I live in a world filled with compassionate white liberal parents. However, their experiences and insights generally only confirm what I already believe and rarely challenge it.

Orlando was different from me. He lived in the bad part of town on Cornell near Viriginia in Berkeley (not so bad anymore with the increase in real estate prices). He was not good at academics or sports. After high school, he dove deeply into the mosh pit of punk rock and was the cool black guy with the Mohawk. He fronted a band, Special Forces, and called himself Orlando X and other things. He worked security at rock gigs and at a record store on Telegraph. He was alternatively goofy and crazy.

Orlando always had interesting stories about places he went and people he knew. I am glad I know him. Orlando made me feel safer at a few hardcore (to me) gigs where I looked pretty soft and mainstream.

One very intense memory is that Orlando was the only person at my Cal graduation party who backed me up when I kicked a large group of rowdy young men out of the party. The memories are fuzzy, partly due to time and partly due to intoxicants that night, but Orlando was there for me and defused a tense situation by being scarier than the guys we were kicking out. My "regular" pals were scared and intimidated by the diversity and negative energy of the party crashers.

I am puzzled how so many folks just want to communicate and share with people who share and confirm their world view--whatever it may be. That seems boring and uneventful.

Why Don't We Play More?

Sports in America tend to focus on either being a winner or making money. The biggest sports enterprises combine the two. I have been fortunate to have never been good enough to care about winning too much but being capable enough to get to play games most of my life. My mediocrity in tennis, basketball, softball, volleyball, ping pong (actually, I am pretty good at table tennis) and general athletics have enabled me to join teams, pickup games and join casual games over the years. That ability has kept me fit and helped me like myself when other aspects of my life had the opposite effect.

However, for the majority of Americans playing any game is something they don't do. You are either a jock or not.

I have tried to expose the kids to playing games and using their bodies. They are both gifted with size and coordination so playing games is easier than if they were short or weak.

Kyle plays rugby in the spring and football the rest of the year.

Colleen ice skates, plays softball and has recently started to play tennis. Both can dabble in other recreational pursuits, and do, because they are confident and decent athletes.

As anyone who talks to me for more than 20 minutes knows, I play basektbal. I love my two weekly hoops games.

Wednesday's game was started around 15 years ago by a few guys, the Piette brothers, who have since aged out due to injuries and family. Yoram inherited the game more than 12 years ago and we have cycled through 20 or so guys who have moved along. Robert and I left a more argumentative game around 8 years ago to join Yoram and rejoined a few guys who we had playing with for years in another gym. I became Yoram's "assistant" a long time ago and took over the game when he left for Sweden 18 months ago. Mark S. now is in charge (with my "assistance").

Got that?

The Sunday game has been organized by David Weintraub, who is close to 60 and still better than me (dammit!) for almost 20 years. I started as a young newbie a decade ago and am now an older veteran. The game includes all ages, including the ocassional son, and women as well. Not much defense and lots of movement, passing and respect for each other.

Anyway, getting sweating with a few guys (and gals) every week creates an intimacy and understanding between participants that is difficult to explain. When Vern (black guy on D, above) says "Don't let him get it over his head" when I am about too shot, its reveals an understanding of my approach to the game that few people have regarding to my approach to the rest of my life.

Recently, I have lost my two best basketball buddies, Yoram and Robert (below with another old b'ball friend, Josh). I am sad I can't share the antics and experiences in the games with people who share a history with me. Of course, others step forward for that place in the game. I share other things with the departed, who remain non-basketball friends. Most just fade away, though.

The games provide physical and emotional sustenance that will be difficult to replace when my back, feet, knees, or wrist finally give out. I will find a a replacement, though, and it won't be golf. I hope it is with Jeane.