My solace from the winter months has always been the basketball gymnasium. Growing up in the New York Catholic school leagues, it was The Father, The Son, The Holy Spirit, and Basketball. For some of us, it wasn’t even necessarily in that order.
Luckily right around the time my body told me to quit playing, my kids were old enough to join a team. So, for ten winters now, I’ve coached them in the Decatur Recreation League. Of course, to most of our participants and their parents, basketball is just a fun activity and not some quasi-religious, devotional sport so, clearly, I’m the weirdo here.
I decided that if the level of play was relatively unimportant then at least the naming of my teams would be paramount. NBA names like “The Pacers” or animal names such as “The Wolves” seemed awfully lame to me. Even worse are the made-up, hotshot names like “Fast Breakers” or “Flameballers.” I mean, we’re playing basketball here, no need to be cringe.
That’s exactly what Margo accuses me of though since I settled on musically themed monikers. I took Elliott’s 12-year-old team, “Boyz II Men,” to a Championship and followed up the next season with “Men at Work.” A couple of years ago for Margo’s team, we went with “Red (Chuck Taylor’s version)” which only appeals to the small subset of people, like Margo and I, who appreciate both Taylor Swift and the iconic, canvas basketball sneaker.
Last year Margo’s team was “Built to Thrill,” a play on one of my wife Kristen’s favorite bands, Built to Spill. Snappy, right? Over Thanksgiving weekend, we were brainstorming with our friends the Borgmans and Joel just started spitting out winners left and right: “3-Pointer Sisters,” “Girl Jam,” “Taylor Swish” and I was like, dang – Joel was born for this!
I offered “ballgenius” which I figured was a winner because it’s clever and boygenius is a band both Margo and I really like. Kristen quickly nixed it though, as the teenage boys in the adjacent room were snickering. It’s 2024 and we still can’t say ‘ball’ or ‘balls’ without someone finding it comical. Margo didn’t want any gender-referencing name anyway because why is the professional women’s league called the WNBA and the men’s just the NBA (not the MNBA)?
She makes a valid point, so we renewed “Built to Thrill.” It’s a darn good name and apropos thus far – with a come-from-behind 14-12 victory in our second game to go along with a come-from-behind 10-10 tie in week one. And, yes, we occasionally have ties in Decatur Rec. Basketball. The league also serves up laughter, frustration, schedule changes and torqued-up dad-coaches with stacked rosters. I’ve returned year after year for wrong-way baskets, sweat, tears, and elation. I draw plays on my whiteboard during timeouts that usually fall apart immediately. Occasionally though, it resembles proper basketball and that’s magical.
It’s our last season. Margo has reached the age limit for the league and Elliott has already graduated to the rank of assistant coach. It’s the last go-round for sketching out practice plans and fighting traffic home from work to make sure the kids are getting ready. I won’t be scheming player rotations on Friday nights and planning my entire Saturday around the games. Figuring out how to get a kid who has never scored before her first basket will be someone else’s task, but also their reward.
The league will go on without us, although creativity in the naming department will take a dip. This silly, frustrating, at times exhilarating chapter in our lives will crescendo in an impossibly loud gymnasium next month, and then it will all come to an unnaturally quiet end. Debating whether it was a sport or an activity may be selling it short. Perhaps you can tell, it was more than either of those things ever could be.