D3 Life: Funding

I’ve spent the last couple of weeks absorbed in my new job teaching sports studies out of the English Department at Oberlin College. I’ve also agreed to serve on the General Faculty Athletics Committee and as a Faculty Athletics Representative.While there are some similarities between my experiences at Michigan and Oberlin, the differences are far more striking.  The whole Oberlin campus would probably come close to fitting inside Michigan’s football stadium, and would easily rest within the general complex of which the famed Big House is a part.  Last Saturday I went to Oberlin’s season opening football game, along with 430 other people, including our new President, who stood in the stands among students and colleagues, as the players, whom you would never recognize as such off the season because they are the same size as you or me, slogged through a downpour to their first win since 2015.  This is the beginning of my D3 life.  And I want occasionally to post here some snapshots of that experience.

Besides my paid duties, I’ve also agreed to serve as a volunteer on the coaching staff for the men’s basketball team. I haven’t coached in decades, but I always loved it and I’m very excited to be part of it. So far I’ve just been part of a few meetings, some with the players and some with just the other coaches.  But, among other things, I’ve already been impressed by how much work this underpaid D3 staff does behind the scenes to create a positive experience for the athletes. My colleagues have used their time with the players thus far to emphasize the importance of off court behaviors and habits that will help these young people develop into responsible, caring teammates, students, and members of their community.

These coaches will never be pulling in even 1/10th or 1/50th of the salaries of their D1 counterparts. They have no contracts with Nike or Amex or even local used car dealerships, and they never will. Coaching at Oberlin College probably isn’t the ideal stepping stone if what you’re after is a plum D1 coaching job. They have a contract with Nike: it gets them a discount on their uniforms.  You’ll never know their players names or see them on TV. Their locker room isn’t paneled in expensive wood, their lockers are not personalized.  It is smaller and in worse condition than the one I used at my small Catholic high school in the early 1980s.  Like we did, the players buy their own shoes. They travel to road games in tiny Midwestern towns in beat up vans.  They carve time to improve their game out of schedules already crammed with demanding academic courses of study, social justice work, and other extra curricular activities on campus and in town.  And they play their games in a gym that would be small at many high schools, before not thousands, nor even hundreds, but dozens of fans. But if you watched the game on the floor, and saw the sweat on their faces, you wouldn’t know these things. So far, it appears to me, all involved invest their time and energy because they love to do it despite the fact that the market, in its infinite blindness, has determined that the efforts of my colleagues and students are of zero value. I am inspired by this demonstration of unvalued passion.

That said, it takes money to keep these programs afloat, more money than the institution can afford to invest in them.  After all, unvalued passion doesn’t fill gas tanks, or replace broken equipment.

So, in a throwback to my Catholic school upbringing, we are holding a raffle to help raise money for the team.  I know that there are larger and more urgent needs around the world these days and that everybody’s resources are scarce and in high demand.  But please consider purchasing a raffle ticket and (or) please share this with others you know who you believe may be willing and able to do so.

For $20 you have a chance at winning the $500 grand prize, or one of two $250 prizes.  But it’s not about the prizes. Your $20 will help defray the costs of travel, upkeep of facilities, and equipment for the team.  But most of all,  for $20 you can have the satisfaction of knowing you are contributing to the survival of sport at a level where it truly embodies the best things that sport can provide our young people. You can click on this link to buy one. 

Thanks for helping to support the D3 life.

 

 

Teaching Values: Coaching the Right Way

In the wake of my posts last week exploring some of the history, assumptions and implications underlying various aspects of coaching, I had a great conversation with Nick Houseman at BBallBreakdown.  Nick is a coach, clearly an intelligent and caring one and so one who is looking to make coaches and coaching better. Perhaps in that spirit, he asked me the following question yesterday: “is there a debate about coaches using sports to teach overarching themes about life?”

I take it that Nick is asking not whether such a debate exists (for the record, there is quite a bit of scholarly discussion of this in the sport psychology, sport sociology and sport philosophy literature–contact me for some references), but rather, rhetorically, whether I believe that it is appropriate for coaches to use sports to teach overarching themes about life? My short answer is yes.  There’s no question that sports can provide numerous opportunities to learn, either through experience or instruction, about life; and a coach can be the individual who helps teach those lessons.  Moreover, as historians such as Dominick Cavallo and Clifford Putney (to name just two among many) have shown, sports have and probably will continue to be—for better and for worse—impactful arenas for imparting these lessons. In the case of basketball, for example, the game was in part designed to do so.  And individuals like James Naismith, John Wooden, Walt Frazier, Bill Russell, Bill Bradley, Mike Krysewski, and Phil Jackson, among many others, have authored volumes elaborating their ideas about what basketball can teach and how; even as scholars have complicated our understanding of how this might work best.

6a00e554e8872388330133f03a241e970b

But in specific circumstances (and leaving aside the kind of coaching behaviors that have left too many young people with a horrible impression of sports culture) , I might qualify my response depending on the answers to certain questions: what is the age of the athletes? What are the themes being taught and how are these being taught? And what is the social context outside of the sporting arena that might support (or undermine) the ability of individual athletes to incorporate these (presumably positive) lessons into their daily lives.  Each of these questions reflects underlying issues that complicate my answer.

Basketball for BoysThis may seem obvious, but generally speaking, I think it’s most appropriate and practical for coaches to impart life lessons to younger players. This isn’t because I think we can’t stop learning about life as we get older.  Life is complicated and challenging in ways that change as we age.  And none of us are ever too old to benefit from the experiences, perspectives, and wisdom of others.  However, in a professional context such as the NBA, where (depending on your definition) most or all of the players are adults, there is a danger that coaches seeking to impart life lessons may fail to respect or appreciate the life wisdom players already have and therefore take on a patronizing attitude.  That is, a situation can arise in which one grown adult is treating another grown adult as though he were less than adult. Because of the racial dynamic whereby most coaches are still white and most players still black and the history of race relations in the US, this such an attitude can become especially problematic.

Moreover, the NBA is a business in which coaches and players alike are employed to maximize, through their success on the court, the profit line of owners. It may not be practical in that context to prioritize life lessons.  And, in addition, the business aspect of the NBA means that coaches and players may not have the opportunity to develop the kinds of intimate personal relationships (knowledge of each other’s experiences and lives, trust, etc.) that should be the bedrock for any such instruction. However, in explicitly educational contexts (such as colleges and schools) and elsewhere that younger athletes are involved, I think using the sporting experience to impart life lessons can be appropriate and desirable, depending, as I said at the outset, on what the themes are, how they are being taught, and on the broader social context in which this is occurring.

It’s probably pretty common to consider, again taking basketball as an example, that certain qualities of character likely to lead to individual and team success are also valuable in life outside of basketball.  Hard work, self-discipline, physical health, enjoyment, graciousness, adaptability, individual initiative, cooperation, unselfishness, intelligence, self-respect and respect for others, and an appreciation of individual differences in personality and ability might comprise a non-exhaustive list of such qualities. I’ve certainly found in my life in and out of basketball that cultivating and exhibiting such qualities tends to contribute to more positive outcomes more often than not.  And most would agree in principle (even if some waver or fall short in actual practice) that these qualities should be prioritized over other values (such as winning) if and when they conflict.

I’m not claiming that these are universal values.  Some arguably are, some definitely are not.  Sometimes, the objection that they are not is voiced to prevent the specific experiences of certain socially marginalized group from being erased. Such erasure is a valid and serious concern.  But I wonder if it might be constructively addressed with careful attention to the conditions under which they are transmitted.  Perhaps this is naive on my part, but if it were the case, we could then avoid resigning ourselves to the position—which admittedly I find tempting, but ultimately counter to my experience, my reasoning, and my desire—that it is hopeless, or worse harmful, to attempt to use sports to impart life lessons to athletes we care about.

Some sociologists rightly observe that there can be in sport an excessive emphasis on defining well-being and development in individual terms. The concern behind this critical observation is that such an emphasis fails to take into account the role—both for better and worse—of society (and of other collectives) in the well-being and development of individuals. Because basketball is a team sport, and as the list of qualities I offered above suggests, this may be less of a problem when it comes to the actual values some coaches seek to impart to their young players. It’s hard for me at least to imagine a basketball coach sternly instructing his or her players to go after their own individual success on the floor at all costs and that this will stand them in good stead in life after basketball.  Even so, it may be the case that some coaches fail to recognize (for any number of reasons) the broader social context in which their players must operate; a context which might make some of these qualities less practicable or practically useful than would be the case on the team or in other social scenarios with which a coach might be familiar or, indeed, in some ideal society.

But I don’t think this means that coaches should refrain from attempting to instill the values they genuinely believe will be useful to their players on and off the court.  It does, however, mean that how a coach teaches and—equally importantly—embodies these values becomes very important.  And it does mean that we should all (coaches included, or especially) be invested in the broader conditions, both of youth sport and of the social and community contexts surrounding young athletes outside of the sporting context, that might make the difference between life lessons learned through sport becoming empowering tools for individuals and communities and such lessons becoming little more than cynically deployed empty promises leading to bitterness and mistrust.

Coach-Gray-Sports-Coach-Tip-No-18-Coach-John-Burns-1024x1024Take care of your body might be the most fundamental tenet of all coaches and the athletic principle with the most obvious relevance to daily life.  The habits of physical self-care that a young athlete might cultivate in the context of their sporting experience may well become a life-long habit with clear benefits.  But, in imparting that lesson, are we taking adequate account of the situations that athlete may be facing in their home or community that might undermine their efforts at attending to their physical well being? Do they have adequate nutrition, for example, or the opportunity to cultivate proper sleep hygiene?

Respect yourself and others: another fundamental lesson to be learned through sports.  But self-respect and respect for others are not cultivated in a vacuum, through sheer force of individual will (even if such a will is a necessary condition for their cultivation). So when we teach young athletes to respect themselves and others (teammates, coaches, officials, opponents) are we considering whether or not the conditions exist in their lives outside of sport in which such a lesson might take root and grow?  Are they respected by their teachers? By law enforcement? By their peers? What about the coach? Is the coach, in his or her interaction with players, showing respect? Or, indeed, exemplifying the other lessons of life and of character he or she seeks to instill in them?

2000px-Pyramid.svg

I think one could go down the list of qualities that I mentioned above and ask of each of them: is the coach exemplifying them? Is their adequate social support for the cultivation of these lessons in a wholistic manner? If not, is the coach (and others claiming to care about the well being of the young athlete) working to ensure that the conditions exist outside the sport—in the family, neighborhood, community and country—in which these qualities can be both practicable and practically useful?

Obviously, as literal questions, the answer will be sometimes yes and sometimes no, depending on the coach.  But I mean them more as rhetorical questions designed to illuminate the more challenging areas that I fear are obscured by the broad popular consensus that sports are a good arena in which to learn life lessons and, therefore, that coaches are the appropriate instructors for such lessons.  I mean to be, in other words, pointing out some of the conditions that I think we need to meet if the potential of sport (and coaches) to work in this positive way is to be fulfilled.

The Triangle Myth

In thinking about basketball culture, I’ve found it useful to think about certain recurrent themes, images, metaphors and topics of discussion as myths.  I don’t mean “myths” in the sense of falsehoods. Instead, I mean myth in the definition given by scholar Robert Segal as a story that conveys a belief that, whether it is true or false, is tenaciously held by its adherents.  Another scholar once referred to myths as “cultural dreams.” If you accept that dreams can shed light on our deeper feelings and attitudes, wishes and fears, then it can be useful to explore the shame of these cultural dreams called myths, for they can help us to better understand the things we feel collectively as a culture but perhaps are not in touch with enough to articulate directly.  Better understanding these things, in turn, can help empower us to change those things that we discover may need changing, just as better understanding our individual fears and wishes can lead us to improve our lives.

Museo_del_Prado_-_Goya_-_Caprichos_-_No._43_-_El_sueño_de_la_razon_produce_monstruos

Nicholas Dawidoff published an elegantly produced, honest and informative inquiry into the Triangle in yesterday’s New York Times. The piece inspired this post and I’ll be using examples from it to illustrate just what I’m talking about. Discussion of the Triangle doesn’t always take on the form of a story, thought it almost always includes stories (such as the story of Tex Winter, who originally devised it, or the story of Phil Jackson’s implementation of it when he was coaching the Chicago Bulls and Michael Jordan to multiple championships). But, regardless of the prominence of narrative in discussions of the Triangle, I think it’s still useful to probe them for those tenaciously held beliefs; useful, in other words, to speak of something we might call “The Triangle Myth.”

So what are the defining element of the Triangle Myth? In no particular order, the Triangle Myth consistently affirms several beliefs: 1) the complexity of the Triangle; 2) a strong association of the Triangle with the success of Jackson-coached teams in Chicago and Los Angeles; 3) the beauty of the Triangle; and 4) the qualities, especially moral qualities, required of players in order to run the Triangle effectively.

All these elements are visible in Dawidoff’s article. Indeed, the complexity of the offense appears as one of his motivations in writing the story.  He writes,

The system is basketball’s Gödel, Escher, Bach, renowned for being highbrow and difficult to understand. Yet trying to get through an abstruse book about the essence of cognition is one thing; that basketball could be over our heads is somehow harder to take.

and

I found the idea of Triangle particularly intriguing. An offensive system that had won all those championships in full public view yet remained off-limits to others — that seemed provocative, a sports riddle.

This leads him to embark upon a quest he describes (albeit ironically) in a quasi-mythological terms:

Was Triangle the golden basketball mean? Was it a mirage? Mine would be a quest of sorts, deep into the heart of Winter.

In the course of this quest, he interviews a number of college and professional coaches and players.  The result is a veritable compendium of variations on the Triangle Myth.  So, we hear former player and current analyst Jay Williams testifying to its complexity:

You hand me a piece of paper and say, ‘Jay, define the triangle for me,’ it’s kind of like a kid with Magic Markers drawing a cartoon. It’s all over the page. So many series of actions, I get lost trying to explain it.

BiQuad001

The whole article revolves around the enormous success Jackson enjoyed using the Triangle, the challenges he has faced in implementing in New York, and the vicissitudes of other coaches and players efforts to work with the offense.  We find, moreover, none other than Kobe Bryant extolling the its beauty:

We were successful because we played in such a beautiful system.

Meanwhile, Stanford University women’s coach Tara VanDerveer compared it to improvisational jazz:

“The ball movement is beautiful!” she said, sounding the way people do when they are discussing the source of deep significance in their lives.

Meanwhile, both Jackson and his acolyte, Steve Kerr (first year coach of this seasons NBA champion Golden State Warriors) lament the difficulty of finding players with the requisite qualities for understanding, accepting and implementing the Triangle.  Thus, Jackson, speaking of his challenges as President of the Knicks:

Identifying players who can be good at it is our chore.

And Kerr elaborates the complaint:

Players grow up with the pick-and-roll, so they don’t naturally play without the ball. So many one-and-done guys are incredibly gifted,but they’re not seasoned fundamentally. In Triangle, they’d be completely lost.

Ultimately, in addition to fundamental skills and intelligence, players are required to possess the moral qualities of unselfishness, self-discipline, and trust.  They must be willing, first of all, to place the team’s interests over their own individual interests or rather more precisely: they must identify their individual interests with the team’s interests.  But also, they must be willing to trust their teammates to do the same and, moreover, the offense to produce positive outcomes for the collective.

is-jesus-god3

Former Bulls’ player Horace Grant brings all the elements together:

You need intelligence to run Triangle. We have great one-on-one athletes out there in the N.B.A., but to be as one, you need to know your role in Triangle. It was a smooth operating machine. Baryshnikov in action! Picasso painting! A beautiful thing!

What Bethlehem Shoals once called the “NBA bildungsroman” of Michael Jordan laboring selfishly and unsucessfully year after year in a Sisyphian task of rolling the Chicago Bulls up the hill of the NBA playoffs only to fall back down again before coming under the firm but benign and quasi-mystical guidance of Phil Jackson and the Triangle serves as the exemplary moral tale here, sisyphus-1549which Dawidoff dutifully recounts, in the form of a quotation from then-Bulls General Manager Jerry Krause:

Michael’s smart as hell. It took him a few months, but then he realized what he could do in Triangle. He went back to Carolina, and all he did all summer was work on post stuff. For the next eight or 10 years, he scored more points in the post than most centers did.

So all the elements are here: the Triangle is a bafflingly complex system, associated with some of the most unparalleled team successes in basketball history, but its complexity, together with the individual skills and moral traits required to implement it are beyond the reach of most of today’s players. So having reviewed these examples of the constitutive elements of the Triangle Myth, let me look a little more critically and deeply.

The first thing to note is the logic whereby an offensive system (or “rubric” as Dawidoff nicely terms it) that has been successfully implemented in specific circumstances is viewed as a kind of tactical, moral, and aesthetic ideal to which coaches and teams should aspire.  This is important because it only through this elevation of the contingent into the necessary that it makes any sense for coaches to complain that they don’t have the right circumstances (read: “players”) in which to implement the Triangle.  

The tacit idea here is that running the Triangle is the best of all possible basketball worlds, the Eden every coach and team would blissfully inhabit if only those players—unschooled in the fundamentals, lacking the intelligence, or unwilling to sacrifice their own interests for the good of the team—weren’t mucking it up.

The Triangle may well have been enormously successful, perhaps more successful than any offensive system in basketball history, and many may consider the patterns of ball and body movement it generates to be beautiful.  It may even exemplify certain moral traits reasonable people would consider desirable such as unselfishness, self-discipline, and trust.  I don’t have any problem with assenting to any of this.  My problem comes when in idealizing the Triangle through the Triangle Myth it becomes yet another bludgeon with which to hammer players (past and especially present) for what they appear—through the lens of this mythto lack.

The deficiencies of today’s players seem to me to be enumerated so frequently that I fear people will come to really believe that NBA players lack fundamental skills, or intelligence, or moral qualities like unselfishness, self-discipline, or trust.  When the list of deficiencies is harnessed to the cart of a powerfully compelling story like the Triangle Myth, I think such distortions become all the more likely to be accepted as truths.

Anybody’s who has been reading me ever, but especially lately, probably knows that this is the moment to remind you that most NBA players are black and most NBA coaches are white and that it’s troubling to me to see basketball culture repeat, as though in a social vacuum, any number of criticisms of black men that have been a staple of racist discourse in this country for centuries.  That Michael Jordan (who is obviously black) is trotted out as a counter-example is itself another staple of such discourse: the exhibition of an African-American who through determination and individual virtue manages to hoist himself above his culture and so to fulfill the expectations of the dominant, white culture.

Instead of this, we might remove the distorting lenses furnished by myths like that of the Triangle.  In doing so, we might appreciate that in every NBA game we witness dazzling exhibitions of fundamental skills honed through long hours of solitary practice, of moral virtue cultivated in, often times, the least nourishing of soils, and of a kind of embodied intelligence that—because we fall prey to the longstanding assumption that minds and bodies are two separate facets of the human being and that the mind is the sole residence of intelligence—we’re likely to overlook because it is not expressed in the forms—such as speech—we expect.

As a teacher (a kind of coach if you will) I try—when I am at what I think of as my best, which is certainly not always—to approach my classes as though the students already possess the basic skills and dispositions required to make the course a success.  I assume they are all intelligent, curious, and open to learn from and teach one another.  But I recognize that intelligence, curiosity and openness take different forms.  And I spend a fair amount of time over the first few weeks of each semester getting to know the specific individual and collective gifts a given group of students will be bringing to the table.  Only then, having established that I respect and value them, have I earned in turn th respect that allows them to accept and meet the challenges I offer them to go further and to stretch themselves.

What is "coach"? Do we need it?

In a post yesterday, I appeared to strike a chord (and for some a nerve) when I supplied the history of the attitudes manifest in Marc Stein’s scolding LeBron James for his “unbecoming” behavior in “emasculating” Coach David Blatt. I concluded with a fantasy of my own: that LeBron would indeed become the coach of the Cavs.

This morning, Mike Foss of USA Today weighed in granting that LeBron may be good enough to LeBron “to call his shots, to draw up plays, maybe even draft a team. But he does lack one necessary ability required of a coach, and that’s managing personalities. Do you think LeBron wants to be the guy who tells Mike Miller he isn’t setting foot on the floor in Game 6 of the NBA Finals because he’s an old and tired shell of himself?” Foss concluded that Blatt plays a “thankless and necessary role.” It may be thankless, but I’m not so sure it’s necessary and I think it’s important not to assume that it is. And I don’t mean Blatt specifically, I mean the conventional way of thinking about what a coach does and, on that basis, what a “coach” should look like. Read more

Uncoachable, A Fantasy (and a Hoops Heresy)

images-3There is an oft-related apocryphal story of an exchange in the Fall of 1906 between James Naismith, inventor of basketball and at the time Chapel Director and Head of the Department of Physical Education at the University of Kansas, and rising sophomore Forrest C. (“Phog”) Allen, star of the Kansas basketball team.  Naismith had received a letter from administrators at Baker University inviting Allen to coach Baker’s basketball team in the upcoming season.

Naismith:  “I’ve got a good joke for you, you bloody beggar.  They want you to coach basketball down at Baker.”

Allen:  “What so funny about that?”

Naismith: “Why, you can’t coach basketball, you just play it!”

Read more

Read with a Basketball in Your Hands

Basketball for BoysIn 1960, Coach Chuck Orsborn of Bradley University collaborated with Marshall K. McClelland to write the instructional volume Basketball for Boys as part of the Follett Publishing Company’s “All-Star Sports Series”.

The book is divided into “Four Quarters”:  “All About Shooting,” “Moving the Ball,” “They Shall Not Pass or Score” and “Wrapping it Up”.  And each of these is further subdivided into several sections called “points” – 23 in all.  So “Point 2” (under “All About Shooting”) is “The One Handed Set Shot”; “Point 20” (under “Wrapping it Up”) is “You and Your Mind.”  There are also “time-outs” in each quarter.

Both the writing and illustrative photos in this book merit more detailed commentary than I have time to provide right now.  For now, let me just say that it’s an easy book to make fun of (and I may yet do just that), but it also conveys some hoops truths that I would guess most NBA players today would go along with, even if they might put it differently.  And it’s more than just the hoops wisdom: there’s a literary elegance to the book, and a pedagogical soundness that I can’t help — despite the square and dated overall ideology — but find completely charming. Read more

Dominator Jesus, a Reflection on the Religion of Basketball

993819^-jesus-basketball

A friend put this image on my Facebook wall the other day.  I’m pretty sure she was being ironic.  Maybe she remembered that I’d written before what I imagined would one day be the opening salvo in my basketball autobiography “My Life as a Point Guard” — an introductory rumination called “Between Jesus and Wilt Chamberlain.”  This image comes from what seems to be a Catholic church affiliated website  selling “inspirational gifts, books, and church supplies.”  This particular item, called “Jesus Sports Statue Basketball,” is recommended as “a wonderful way to encourage your young athlete on the court and in their faith as well.”   It “serves as a contemporary reminder that Jesus is with your child in basketball and in all that they do.” Read more

Day 5: For the Love (and Hate) of the Game

Man, was that fun. I was feeling pretty unsure about today’s class. In addition to the usual adolescent insecurities (which I stepped squarely into by deciding to wear my Sheed jersey), I found myself approaching the week’s teaching with a deeper nagging worry that I’m somehow getting away with something here, teaching a basketball course, writing stuff that more than fourteen readers read. But I had the equivalent of a pregame session with the trainer and got right with my demons. Short version: “so what if I am?” No wait. I forget. Well, I’ll come back to that later. In any event, there was minimal neurotic drama today. There was, however, a different kind of challenge: how to incorporate discussion of the college game – especially its early years — into a course structured around a book on the history of pro basketball. My response: evade.

Not really. Well, sort of, yeah. I certainly was prepared, so I didn’t evade in that department. I spent a lot of time sifting through histories until I found a readable, reasonably succinct source, the 1994 Encyclopedia of College Basketball. Then I photocopied the first two chapters, which do a good job of chronicling the rise of the college game through 1950 (and especially up through the first NCAA tourney in 1939). Then I scanned the photocopies and put them up online for the students to read. I read and reread them. I carefully outlined them in my notebook so that I could take the students through the decades. Here’s the summary:

  • 1900s: birth of the conferences, IAA, the emergence of outside shooting and longer passes, the dominance of Chicago (78-12 between 1900 and 1909)
  • 1910s: Rules standardization as AAU and NCAA join forces; banning of the double dribbling, allowing the dribbler to shoot, only 4 personal fouls, no coaching during game; self-supporting basketball programs, professionalization of coaching ranks despite Naismith’s skepticism, coach as recruiter; Navy (109-9 b/w 1900-1909)
  • 1920s: Bigger arenas, limited integration of some teams; fouled players have to shoot their own FT’s, charging foul introduced, substituted-for player can return once; Ned Irish gets an idea, stock market crashes, Montana State (what?) (213-44 b/w 1920-1929)
  • 1930s: here we go: MSG promotions with NYC and other east coast colleges bring big crowds and cash leads to NIT 1938, NCAA 1939; Rule changes: 5 seconds closely guarded (1930), 10 second line (1932), 3 second (1932), 2 reentries permitted, center jump eliminated (1937), Luisetti one-handed runner
  • 1940s: first telecast 2/28/1940; ball movement, little dribbling; gambling – decade ends with gambling scandal, sets up rise in popularity of pro game, popularity of NCAA tourney over (NY-based) NIT tourney.  Oops.

Bored yet? Well, if you’re not, imagine me droning my way through this over the course of half an hour. Is that why you signed up for Cultures of Basketball? Me neither.

Enter evasive tactics. I decided on the spur of the moment to go in a different direction. I had already been uncomfortably aware that the set of names I couldn’t remember equaled “white-males-who-are-neither-on-the-basketball-team-nor-blogging-about-the-course.” While not unheard of, this is unusual for me three weeks into the semester. I needed to firm up the mnemonic webs so I decided to go around the room and have everyone introduce themselves and say what they were doing in the class. At the last second I told them to tell me their favorite team and their favorite player, any level.

This turned out to be maybe the best time we’ve had yet in the class: lots of banter and ribbing. One student offered the following logic for loving the Lakers: “I love the Yankees, and hate the Red Sox and all things Boston. Boston and the Lakers have been rivals a lot lately.” By the time we got all the way around everyone seemed really relaxed, particularly the student who explained thusly why he felt the class was made for him: “All I think about in life is basketball, females, and making money.” Wow. Ice broken.

Then a student asked me to answer my own questions (If you care: Portland, Oregon and Madison, Wisconsin; in class because I teach it; Early 70s Bucks, Mid 70s Blazers, Pistons – general bandwagon-ass cat as Sheed once said; players: Sheed, AI, Nash, Big O, Clyde, Zeke, forgot to mention Magic, forgot Ernie D). And the give and take only amped up further when someone asked me which player I most hated (Anderson Varejao) and then suggested we go around one more time to get everyone’s most hated player, with the stipulation that the player had to be current and you could only name one.

The best part of this round for me was when a student would start out by saying “umm, I dunno, I hate [insert names of two or three players ‘x’ ‘y’ and ‘z’].” Then, when I pressed the kid to name only one, he or she would suddenly blurt out the name of an entirely different player, as though shedding an enormous burden of repressed disgust. Best instance of this: “Um, Dwyane Wade and Vince Carter, ‘cause they’re always falling down, acting hurt.” Me: “you can only name one.” Student, rapidly: “Wally Sczerbiak.” “Wally Sczerbiak?” Ice totally shattered. Sometimes you just gotta play games.

For the record here are the tabulated results, carefully anonymized to protect the identities of the students (a promise I’m trying carefully to keep despite the enormous delight I think it would provide me to use the actual names).

Fav Player
Fav Team
Hated Player
Grew Up
Isaiah
Bad Boys
Artest
Grosse Pointe, MI
Jordan
Celtics
Kobe
Washington, D.C.
None
Nets
T Parker
Bronx, NY
Kobe
Bulls
Lakers
Big Baby
Chicago, IL (South Side)
Jordan
Lakers
Big Baby
Saginaw and Kalamazoo, MI
James
Pistons
Michigan
Duke
JR Smith
Troy, MI
Kobe
Magic
MJ
Perkins
Reggie
Lakers
Clips
Hornets
OKC

UCLAUM

Pierce
James
Beverly Hills, CA
Durant
Celtics
Varejao
Reading, MA
Noah
Jordan
Durant
Rose
Bulls
Garnett
Highland Park, IL
Lindsay Whalen
None
Scoop Jardine
“Small town north of Twin Cities”
Scottie
OKC
Marquise Daniels
Seattle, WA
Maravich
Celtics
Ginobili
Novi, MI
Kidd
Nets
Raptors
Noah
Rye, NY
Jordan
DRose
Noah
Bulls
2004-05 Illinois team
Harangody
Lake Forest, IL
Jordan
UM Men’s
Lakers
Rondo
“NJ b/w Philly and NY”
Nash
Warriors
N Robinson
Kalamazoo, MI
TMac
Pistons
Szczerbiak
Bloomfield, MI
Dirk
Whoever Dirk is playing for
Pau
Buffalo, NY
Lebron
Miami
Pierce
Miami, FL
No fav
MSU
Duncan
Okemus, MI
D Williams
Pistons
Lebron
Troy, MI
Howard
Bulls
Pierce
Chicago, IL (North Side)
Reggie
Nash
Pacers
Bulls
KG
Carmel, IN
Kukoc
Bulls
Rondo
Evanston, IL

By this time I think we’d taken up half of class. There was no way I was going to squander the stash of excellent vibes we’d accumulated in the first 45 minutes. So I bagged the boring outline and just cut to the chase. I should say that most of the time that I’d been preparing for this day’s class, in fact back when I was putting the syllabus together I’d felt some obligation (and equal and opposite resentment) to putting the college game on the syllabus. A voice in the back of my mind kept nagging me: why are you doing college here? Of course, one obvious answer is that it is a college class, with college players. Another obvious answer is that the college game was crucial to the game’s development in the first fifty-odd years after the invention of the game. Another obvious answer is that the college game continues to make a ton of money, and currently serves at least in part to feed terrific Freshmen into the maw of the NBA draft each season. So, with all these obvious answers why was I resistant at all?

I used to love the college game. When I was little basketball for me was equal parts Bucks, Knicks, and UCLA Bruins. By the time Magic and Larry squared off in the ’79 final (late in my 8th grade year), I was already hooked and I participated fully in the well-documented madness that ensued all the way through college. An ACC fan at the time, I even chose my graduate school partly on the basis of basketball. My grad school years coincided with Duke’s 1991 title and then, after a one year stint at UCLA (passing hallowed Pauley Pavilion with a knot in my stomach and a quickened pulse), I landed at Michigan in time to see the tragedy of the talented, intelligent Chris Webber call a timeout his team didn’t have in the final seconds of the second of their back to back title-game appearances. And then, kind of suddenly, I stopped caring.

Now, it’s not fair to set this all on the doorstep of the college game. Much was unmanageable in my life at the time, both personally and professionally, and part of that entailed turning away from the game I loved (long story). And it wasn’t just college,  I eventually stopped caring about pro ball around 1998. But while I came back to the pro game pretty strongly around 2001, I still only really care deeply about the college game during the NCAA’s. Why?   Pretty reasonably, if you love something you want to see the best in the world do it. That’s the NBA. Of course, that’s been true for my entire life. But in the past the college game, for me at least, compensated for the relative inferiority of its individual players with other charms: an emphasis on team play, the opportunity to watch cohorts grow over several years and blend with other cohorts, the whole college spirit thing.

But now it’s a different world than the one in which I had to walk five miles to school … in the snow …  barefoot … uphill … both ways. The NBA won’t let high school kids come straight into the League so most standout high school players put in an obligatory year at college before jumping to the pros. Even second tier potential pros rarely stay around for more than two years. Coaching salaries have grown astronomically so that coaches flit from program to program like drunken hummingbirds. Television and apparel contracts have injected even more money into the whole system and helped contribute to a the perception (if not the fact) of widespread, large scale corruption. But even all of that wouldn’t bother me so much if the NCAA-Media-Coaching-Nike complex weren’t shoving the “One Shining Moment” discourse of the stirring charm of college basketball up my ass so hard. That’s why I resisted putting it on the syllabus.

I don’t want to stress the perception (undoubtedly fueled by personal nostalgia) that the college game was once (at least in my life time) somehow “pure” and has progressively grown tainted, though there’s probably some truth to that story. I’m more interested in the categories that get mobilized to defend the status quo in the college game: terms like “spirit,” “emotion,” “teamwork,” “effort” and, of course, “amateurism,” which is to say, the love of the game. And the way these get grouped together and made mutually exclusive with an NBA game that is seen as cold-blooded, lazy, individualistic, and mercenary. Don’t forget the racialization of these groups of categories too: though it is true that the percentage of African-American playing college basketball is disproportionate to the percentage in the general population, it is as yet smaller than the percentage in the NBA ranks. Then these college terms get a boost from the barrage of images of cutesy, clean-cut cheerleaders with something painted on their cheeks (as opposed to slutty dance teams), a pep band (as opposed to blaring house music), and ivy covered halls (as opposed to massive branded, arenas in anonymous suburbs or downtowns).

So it all adds up to something like the following cultural formulas:

  • college game = tradition + amateurism + spirit + teamwork + effort + wholesomeness + innocence x whiteness.
  • pro game = rootlessness + mercenariness (it’s a word) + heartlessness + selfishness + laziness + vulgarity + sinisterness (also a word) x blackness.

It’s offensively simplistic and hypocritical and so widely disseminated (even by the same agencies that expose it) that I felt a pedagogical responsibility to try to challenge it in class.

“Amateur,” I explained, “comes from the Latin word for ‘love.’” As in, I play basketball for the love of the game (as opposed to, say, for money). A big part of the history of college basketball in the period in question, as the game increased in popularity, drew larger and larger crowds, attracted promoters, investors, and gamblers, is the emergence of amateurism as a problem for college athletics. I wrote “amateur” on the board and above it the word “love.” I wrote “professional” on the board and above it drew a dollar sign. As with my Globetrotters good or bad question last week, I meant deliberately to pose a stark, oversimplified opposition. And then I just said, “I just want to hear your thoughts about these terms.”

Whoa! I was not expecting this. A student’s hand shot up. “I think players should get paid.” And here I wish I had a recorder. Almost everyone had something to say. I don’t know if this is pedagogically sound or not, but I know from experience that when college professors observe other college professor’s classrooms one of the indexes of successful teaching is the number and variety of students who participate in a given session. I don’t know exactly how many did yesterday, but it was more and more varied than for any other discussion we’ve had yet this year. So I didn’t record it, but I want to try to convey the discussion by just listing paraphrased versions of the comments (oh, and I want to emphasize that players were on both sides of the issue).

  • “Players should get paid.”
  • “Players do get paid.”
  • “Players should get paid more because they can’t hold regular jobs or take summer internships that might enhance their future career prospects in other fields.”
  • “If we pay players, what about athletes in ‘non-revenue’ sports.”
  • “We shouldn’t pay players because they will get big heads. The humility of paying your dues as a player is an integral part of the experience of growing into a professional.”
  • “It’s hard to be a player and see all the money that is being made around you and not feel like you should be getting more of it.”
  • “No way that 18 to 22 year olds should be getting money to play basketball for a college team. They are already getting an education. They aren’t professionals. In fact, in the Ivy league there are no scholarships.”
  • “Should there be no scholarships at all?”
  • “If there were no scholarships a lot of people who have the desire and the ability to attend college wouldn’t be able to because it’s too expensive.”
  • “While scholarships are great, a lot of people don’t realize that they don’t cover lots of the essential costs of attending college. Players don’t have the time or the opportunity to cover those costs with other jobs.”
  • “If we pay players then the richest programs will field the best teams and there will be no parity.”
  • “That already is the case because the richest programs have the best facilities which attract the best players.”
  • “The players should just be happy with the attention they get. Try playing a sport that nobody attends.”
  • “The players are already getting paid. Anyone who has been in the basketball community knows that every year the top players are bidding themselves out to colleges.”

I can’t resolve these issues and I have no positive alternative to offer. For my part, I was mainly just thrilled that the class had finally hit its full stride, with lots of participation and disagreement and mutual respect. I did try to suggest that they might think of various different policy pieces as “delivery devices” with advantages and disadvantages and the path to a sounder system might begin by prioritizing, honestly, the purposes of intercollegiate athletics and then formulating policies that help fulfill those purposes while discouraging others that are in conflict with the prioritized purposes. But whatever, it’s not my job to formulate or even think coherently about the details of NCAA policies. It’s my job (and what I love) to think and talk about the way we think and talk about the various aspects of basketball culture.

So I was excited that even in a college classroom, in a university strongly associated with college athletics, in a course 33 % full of college athletes, there was a willingness to take apart the ridiculous, dualistic equations I mentioned above. And, in a way, the seemingly random evasive tactic with which I began class — who do you love? who do you hate? — turned out not to be incidental to the subject of our discussion because in going around the room we # 1 inflamed passions and # 2 tacitly admitted that the pro game aroused at least as much passion as the college game. We saw, in other words, that we were basketball culture even as we were studying it; that there’s (fortunately) no divorcing passion from reason in this case (which isn’t the same as saying that they can’t or don’t inform and check each other); and that love of the game and love of money exist in both the college game and the pro game.

I’m not saying college players don’t love basketball, just that I’m tired of the assertion that they and their coaches and fans are the ones who really love it. And, even more deeply, I’m tired of the assumption on which that assertion rests: that the proof that you really love something is to do it for free. That smacks of something rich people say to everyone else: “ooh, money’s dirty.” “Yeah,” I want to reply, “it’s dirty because you’ve been wiping your ass with it for the last hundred years. But I’ll still be happy to take it off your hands.”

That attitude, especially coming from people who are making loads and loads of cash off talented, hardworking young people, that’s just too stinky. I have nothing against people doing what they love for free or for little if that’s what they want and if they are truly free to choose. But I’m offended by the obverse normative stricture that if you are doing what you love and getting paid you have fouled something clean, and are somehow getting away with something, or gaming the system. Yago 1, Demons 0.

Go back to read about the way categories of race, ethnicity, and gender shape our basketball narratives

or

Go on to read about the elements of style in hoops.