Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Transitioning My Game
Reading a book like "Transition Game" about something as cosmically insignificant as basketball should not have affected me as deeply as it did. The book is a chronicle of the demise of much I hold dear. There was little in it revelatory to anyone that follows Indiana basketball as closely as I do, but to have it all gathered in one place, condensed and organized, changed the emotional impact from that of having a wall torn down slowly over the course of years brick-by-brick, to that of being hit in the head with a hurtling cannonball.
I think the best place to start is with a comment made on the post where I announced the death of my closest friend back in May. The comment was from a fellow Hoosier and here is a portion
And the most meaningful thing about the game from my perspective was it's egalitarianism. Everyone played and was invited to play. No, not everyone played varisty, but we all wanted to play so badly, that those of us with lesser skills were let into the less organized games by those with exceptional skill because we had to have a team. More, we played a style of game that allowed those of us with lesser skill to contribute significantly. Athleticism mattered less than knowledge of the game. Even a dumpster like me could set a pick that allowed the good shooter to score, and thus I participated in the ultimate thrill of the game.
Despite the fanaticism most Hoosiers have for the game, it was also always kept in perspective as a game. It was our grossly avid avocation, but never our raison d'etre. It served a useful purpose in Hoosier society, but it never was the thing itself.
All of that is no more. Now in Indiana it is just a game, played by only the best athletes. The author even chronicles a pick-up game in which picks are frowned upon and "creation" is key. The sport in Indiana is now marked as much by the divisions (the author takes great pains to describe a very ugly incident between Martinsville and Bloomington North a few years ago) as the unity. Winning always mattered, but now, ala Vince Lombardi, it's the only thing. Even for the very young there are summer leagues and shoe salesmen. No longer a game, it is an industry, and like most industry, is has no soul.
Reading this book was like reading a chronicle of losing a part of myself -- one of my better parts at that. I am quite angry at the author because in his accurate chronicle he failed to see the utter significance of that on which he reported. He was reporting not just the changes in a game, but the death of a community and a way of life. The story he tells represents a seed change in the values and mores of an entire state, not for the better. The book has left my heart heavy and a tear in my eye.
I think the best place to start is with a comment made on the post where I announced the death of my closest friend back in May. The comment was from a fellow Hoosier and here is a portion
I think there is something about basketball that develops intimacy among young friends. Going one-on-one with a friend is literally an in-your-face competition: you talk, exchange friendly - and not-so friendly - elbows, push, shove, and have fun. There's no net, no scrimmage line, no distant bases. You swap sweat, smell one another, breathe the same humid air of summertime.To a real Hoosier, basketball has a near religious significance; it is more than just a game. It is how friendships are made, bonds that in my case lasted a literal lifetime. Everyone plays to some extent, everyone watches, and everyone has an opinion. It was the glue that held the state together, more, it united the state in a way that I have never experienced anywhere else in the world -- that unity existed even between IU and Purdue fans, at least when it came to facing non-Hoosiers.
And the most meaningful thing about the game from my perspective was it's egalitarianism. Everyone played and was invited to play. No, not everyone played varisty, but we all wanted to play so badly, that those of us with lesser skills were let into the less organized games by those with exceptional skill because we had to have a team. More, we played a style of game that allowed those of us with lesser skill to contribute significantly. Athleticism mattered less than knowledge of the game. Even a dumpster like me could set a pick that allowed the good shooter to score, and thus I participated in the ultimate thrill of the game.
Despite the fanaticism most Hoosiers have for the game, it was also always kept in perspective as a game. It was our grossly avid avocation, but never our raison d'etre. It served a useful purpose in Hoosier society, but it never was the thing itself.
All of that is no more. Now in Indiana it is just a game, played by only the best athletes. The author even chronicles a pick-up game in which picks are frowned upon and "creation" is key. The sport in Indiana is now marked as much by the divisions (the author takes great pains to describe a very ugly incident between Martinsville and Bloomington North a few years ago) as the unity. Winning always mattered, but now, ala Vince Lombardi, it's the only thing. Even for the very young there are summer leagues and shoe salesmen. No longer a game, it is an industry, and like most industry, is has no soul.
Reading this book was like reading a chronicle of losing a part of myself -- one of my better parts at that. I am quite angry at the author because in his accurate chronicle he failed to see the utter significance of that on which he reported. He was reporting not just the changes in a game, but the death of a community and a way of life. The story he tells represents a seed change in the values and mores of an entire state, not for the better. The book has left my heart heavy and a tear in my eye.
