Going Back to School
Tuesday night, I finally did something I have wanted to do for a long time, but could never seem to make the time to do: I went to a high school basketball game.
I play in a pickup basketball league that plays up to four times a week at Gonzaga Prep in D.C., and the guy who runs it stays pretty connected to the program. A couple weeks back, he sent out an email alerting us to a couple of upcoming big games, against DeMatha and Bishop O'Connell. I couldn't make the DeMatha game, but went with a buddy last night to see Gonzaga, the top-ranked team in the Metro area, handily beat O'Connell, who I think were ranked fifth coming in.
The Washington Catholic Athletic Conference, to which both of these schools belong, is a high level league. Quite a difference, on the court at least, from the high school ball I played, back in Vermont some ten years ago. It's remarkable how fast and athletic these kids are.
Despite the big discrepancy in terms of the quality of the game, I got that warm feeling when I realized that high school basketball is still high school basketball. There was a concession stand selling hot dogs and chicken fingers and soda for reasonable prices. Parents sat behind their son's benches and cheered at the top of their lungs; ex-players stood in the corners and quiety drank in the action. Student managers dressed in Catholic school uniforms diligently took stats, collected warm ups, and distributed water in squirt bottles -- the same kind of bottles, I might add, that I used when I played. Students from each school gathered together to cheer on their players, taunt the opposition, and trade playful chants back and forth -- one of the few ways, it seems, that young men and women can have innocent fun these days. After the game, parents and friends of players hung around the court to congratulate and console the young men in the locker rooms.
Five dollars and three hours well spent.
Fun anecdote: I was sitting behind the O'Connell bench, because a former co-worker of my companion to the game has a kid who plays for them. We sat on the top row, in the middle. Because the Gonzaga gym isn't planned particularly well, the seats directly to my left had a partially obstructed few, and I patiently waited as a tall man who I recognized as someone I should know walked past me to sit down, only to turn around and come back when he recognized the situation. He gave me a friendly smile and a pat on the shoulder in recognition of the fact that he was in my way.
After he left, my friend nudged me. "You know who that was?" he asked. I told him that I recognized the man, but couldn't figure out who it was. "Tommy Amaker." Of course! It had occurred to me that college coaches would be at the game, but I guess I hadn't properly prepared myself to see one.
Amaker, formerly an assistant at Duke and head man at Seton Hall and then Michigan, is a D.C.-area native. Now the head coach at Harvard, he was at the game to take a look at two of his recruits; Bishop O'Connell's Frank Ben-Eze and Gonzaga's Max Kenyi.
My understanding is that Ben-Eze, the big Nigerian, doesn't have a lot of basketball experience and is something of a project. I couldn't tell you, because he spent most of the game on the bench in foul trouble. But man, was I impressed with Kenyi! He apparently has a reputation as a defensive stopper, and he lived up to the hype on that end, holding Georgetown-bound Jason Clark to 11 points, half his average. But he was equally spectacular on offensive, netting 22 points on an array of three-point jumpers and drives to the basket. Despite having the skinniest legs I've ever seen on a basketball player -- he has no visible calf muscles to speak of -- he's quick and athletic, with an excellent vertical leap.
Despite the presence of Clark and Bishop O'Connell sophomore Kendall Marshall (an early North Carolina commit whose speed with the ball will help him fit right in in Chapel Hill), Kenyi was the best player on the court all night.
It was a terrific night, even though the game wasn't close (83-62 was the final). The only sour note was the Bishop O'Connell coach losing his composure in the third quarter, spending most of it barking at and patronizing the officials. Most of the quarter was gone before he ever said anything instructional to his team. By and large they looked like a well-coached squad and I hope that Tuesday was an anomaly borne out of frustration, but he let his team down by allowing himself to be distracted like that.
Still, it's something I'd like to do again very soon.
And1 Want to give a quick shout out to Kentucky point guard Ramel Bradley, because I don't think he's getting enough credit for what he's accomplished in the last five games. Bradley played 39 minutes in a fast, uptempo game against Tennessee's tenacious defense last night. The inside duo of freshman Patrick Patterson and Perry Stevenson keyed the victory, but Bradley never wore down despite the fact that he had AVERAGED 44 minutes per game while playing every second of the previous four contests (a stretch which included three overtime periods). By any measure, it's been a rough year so far in Lexington, but the Wildcats have started to look better, with consecutive home wins over top 15 clubs (Vanderbilt and Tennessee) and gutsy losses against good teams in tough environments (Mississippi State and Florida). Make no mistake, Bradley's the biggest reason why the season isn't completely lost.
I play in a pickup basketball league that plays up to four times a week at Gonzaga Prep in D.C., and the guy who runs it stays pretty connected to the program. A couple weeks back, he sent out an email alerting us to a couple of upcoming big games, against DeMatha and Bishop O'Connell. I couldn't make the DeMatha game, but went with a buddy last night to see Gonzaga, the top-ranked team in the Metro area, handily beat O'Connell, who I think were ranked fifth coming in.
The Washington Catholic Athletic Conference, to which both of these schools belong, is a high level league. Quite a difference, on the court at least, from the high school ball I played, back in Vermont some ten years ago. It's remarkable how fast and athletic these kids are.
Despite the big discrepancy in terms of the quality of the game, I got that warm feeling when I realized that high school basketball is still high school basketball. There was a concession stand selling hot dogs and chicken fingers and soda for reasonable prices. Parents sat behind their son's benches and cheered at the top of their lungs; ex-players stood in the corners and quiety drank in the action. Student managers dressed in Catholic school uniforms diligently took stats, collected warm ups, and distributed water in squirt bottles -- the same kind of bottles, I might add, that I used when I played. Students from each school gathered together to cheer on their players, taunt the opposition, and trade playful chants back and forth -- one of the few ways, it seems, that young men and women can have innocent fun these days. After the game, parents and friends of players hung around the court to congratulate and console the young men in the locker rooms.
Five dollars and three hours well spent.
Fun anecdote: I was sitting behind the O'Connell bench, because a former co-worker of my companion to the game has a kid who plays for them. We sat on the top row, in the middle. Because the Gonzaga gym isn't planned particularly well, the seats directly to my left had a partially obstructed few, and I patiently waited as a tall man who I recognized as someone I should know walked past me to sit down, only to turn around and come back when he recognized the situation. He gave me a friendly smile and a pat on the shoulder in recognition of the fact that he was in my way.
After he left, my friend nudged me. "You know who that was?" he asked. I told him that I recognized the man, but couldn't figure out who it was. "Tommy Amaker." Of course! It had occurred to me that college coaches would be at the game, but I guess I hadn't properly prepared myself to see one.
Amaker, formerly an assistant at Duke and head man at Seton Hall and then Michigan, is a D.C.-area native. Now the head coach at Harvard, he was at the game to take a look at two of his recruits; Bishop O'Connell's Frank Ben-Eze and Gonzaga's Max Kenyi.
My understanding is that Ben-Eze, the big Nigerian, doesn't have a lot of basketball experience and is something of a project. I couldn't tell you, because he spent most of the game on the bench in foul trouble. But man, was I impressed with Kenyi! He apparently has a reputation as a defensive stopper, and he lived up to the hype on that end, holding Georgetown-bound Jason Clark to 11 points, half his average. But he was equally spectacular on offensive, netting 22 points on an array of three-point jumpers and drives to the basket. Despite having the skinniest legs I've ever seen on a basketball player -- he has no visible calf muscles to speak of -- he's quick and athletic, with an excellent vertical leap.
Despite the presence of Clark and Bishop O'Connell sophomore Kendall Marshall (an early North Carolina commit whose speed with the ball will help him fit right in in Chapel Hill), Kenyi was the best player on the court all night.
It was a terrific night, even though the game wasn't close (83-62 was the final). The only sour note was the Bishop O'Connell coach losing his composure in the third quarter, spending most of it barking at and patronizing the officials. Most of the quarter was gone before he ever said anything instructional to his team. By and large they looked like a well-coached squad and I hope that Tuesday was an anomaly borne out of frustration, but he let his team down by allowing himself to be distracted like that.
Still, it's something I'd like to do again very soon.
And1 Want to give a quick shout out to Kentucky point guard Ramel Bradley, because I don't think he's getting enough credit for what he's accomplished in the last five games. Bradley played 39 minutes in a fast, uptempo game against Tennessee's tenacious defense last night. The inside duo of freshman Patrick Patterson and Perry Stevenson keyed the victory, but Bradley never wore down despite the fact that he had AVERAGED 44 minutes per game while playing every second of the previous four contests (a stretch which included three overtime periods). By any measure, it's been a rough year so far in Lexington, but the Wildcats have started to look better, with consecutive home wins over top 15 clubs (Vanderbilt and Tennessee) and gutsy losses against good teams in tough environments (Mississippi State and Florida). Make no mistake, Bradley's the biggest reason why the season isn't completely lost.
posted by H.S. Slam, Ph.D at 10:55 PM
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