Filed under: Basketball, Bread City, Poetry | Tags: Basketball Photography, Basketball Poetry, Lowell, Tom Meschery
Our red brick square gymnasium was an anachronism
Among the steel-ribbed, concrete muscled ellipses
And angles of the day; it was full of shadows –
The floor corduroy, the backboards wood
And the rims were bent with age
(the relentless ricochet of basketballs),
It had none of the embellishments
Found in more modern gyms.
It was simply a no-nonsense structure
Built to house players not spectators.
Surrounded by its gray walls and wrinkled floor
We practiced two-to-six, six days a week.
And throughout that time – four years –
Our coach, who was as old as the building,
Taunted and inspired us, swore and cajoled us,
He taught us to play without frills.
We became red brick and corduroy
And learned to see through shadows.
by Tom Meschery
Nobody else captures childhood hero worship like the one and only Lynda Barry.
Solid but not spectacular. Good hands. Pure passer. Looks like a man.
I went for the loose ball and I felt my knee move. Then I felt it give up underneath me.
Blow-by abilities. A surprisingly pure outside shot. Bit of a hot dog.
Coach was up in Sean’s face, and I swear, he was two seconds away from decking him. Go ahead, ask anybody who was there. Ask them. Sean’s my boy, so… I don’t care who you are. Even if you are the coach. That’s when I decided to step in.
Brings a calming influence. A quality desire.
You could see the two state troopers walking up in the rear view mirror, moving in all the red and blue light. I remember I was trying to see their faces. I don’t know. I thought maybe, somehow, I’d recognize one of them. Or they’d recognize me. And it would be alright.
A pure wing. Flashes of quality. Looks like he’s just now getting good.
You should have seen his brother. Oh yeah, his brother was even better. Bigger, too. I played against him once in Arizona. He got benched. Why? For grades, I think. He quit the team. I never saw him again.
by Jake Lemkowitz
Filed under: Art, Basketball, Bread City, Phoenix Suns | Tags: Patrick Ewing, Reggie Miller
“He was a great con man. Ya know, he was always crying to the ref, running off, flopping. Ya know, knock you down, smack you and act like he was the one getting smacked. I … ya know … tell ya … I hated Reggie.”
– Patrick Ewing
image via Fat Shawn Kemp
Filed under: Art, Basketball, Bread City, Chicago Bulls, Los Angeles Lakers, Michael Jordan, New York Knicks | Tags: 1990s Culture, Courtside, John Starks, Jonah Hill, Michael Jordan, NBA
“The evolution of the Hollywood seat began in 2007, when the NBA allowed teams to shrink the size of their scorer’s table to boost the number of revenue-generating seats…
In New York, the Knicks have 145 floor seats priced from $2,850 to $3,600 per seat per game, or between $122,550 and $154,800 for a typical full regular-season schedule at Madison Square Garden. All are sold out and the majority of floor-seat ticket holders are individual ticket holders. Yes, Lee owns his seats.”
– From Sports Business Journal, 5/21/2012
Filed under: Basketball, Bread City, Photography, Poetry | Tags: Basketball Poetry, Cliff Dweller
you realize that
the spirit of the universe
swirls around you
like a gentle
The lowering sun beckons
your eyes and nothing else
This is all you need
This is your life,
that hunk of
one city street,
and you become
a thing of beauty
the evening’s stillness
with this pumpkin
in your hand
to be outside
because you have
a small hole to fill
A net of darkness
that you love
more than a best friend
Street lights are shining again
in the shadow of the city
You’re in the middle,
catching the ball
before you leap
as high as Olympus
And suddenly you see
on the ball
the very last drop
by Cliff Dweller
photo via waiting4brooklyn
Filed under: Basketball, Bread City, Music, Photography | Tags: A Certain Ratio, Great Jams
A Certain Ratio – Do The Du (Casse)