Charles Barkley, Intramural Basketball, and this year’s Indiana Hoosiers
Like most kids in Indiana, I was no stranger playing basketball in middle school and high school. We’d play in the backyard. We’d play in the church gym after Scout Troop meetings every Tuesday night. After lunch, we’d play basketball in the gym during middle school.
And, like most kids, we’d try to model our play after NBA players. There were all kinds of Jordan wannabes with tongues wagging and showboat layups. I had my own hero on the court. It was Charles Barkley, even though has continually reminded people that he’s not a role model. I didn’t have the height of a Dominique Wilkins or David Robinson. I couldn’t shoot the ball from outside like Larry Bird. And I definitely didn’t have the skills of an MJ.
If my body shape was like anyone in the NBA’s, it was Barkley’s. If my playing style was like anyone’s, it was Barkley’s. I didn’t talk trash like he did. And of course I couldn’t dunk. But I could block out. And I could fight for every rebound. And I loved the fact that his game was multidimensional. When he retired, he was one of only four players to end his career with 20,000 points, 10,000 rebounds, and 4,000 assists.
When I was with my friends, I’d play with confidence and reckless abandon. I’d block out. I’d fight for every possession. I’d drive to the basket with confidence. And I wasn’t afraid to swat away a shot or two. And when Kevin was playing, they made us play on opposing teams because we were too good when we were on the same team. We knew where the other was going to be and what the other one was going to do. I guess we canceled each other out when we were on opposing teams.
Things changed when I played with people other than my usual friends. There was one time when we were playing a pickup game and I was dominating in the paint. A few of the more athletic guys came over and suggested we play a game of four-on-four. We agreed. And I completely disappeared. It was like I’d forgotten how to play. It was like a light switch. One of my friends came up to me and said, “Play like you were just playing.” And I tried. I just didn’t react the same way. I couldn’t block out. I couldn’t drive to the hoop. It was like I forgot how to play.
The same thing happened again my freshman year of college. When I got together with my friends and we played a little hoops, I usually did pretty well. S0 we joined the intramural league. We walked into the gym for the first game, oozing with confidence. But that all changed at the first tip of the ball. I disappeared. Again. The light switch went off and I forgot how to play. As we were running down the court, one of my friends said to me something that sounded eerily similar to what was said to me five years prior: “Play like you were just playing yesterday!” But I couldn’t do it. I guess I was too intimidated.
We lost that game by at least 30 points. It might have been 50. I really don’t remember. We lost every other game in that intramural season. We were a bunch of freshman who hadn’t played together very much before intramurals began and we really didn’t have the collective skills (or hoops intelligence, to be honest) to match any of our opponents. We tried our hardest, but we really weren’t very good. And although my team tried to do everything they could to rebuild my confidence, I just didn’t ever play like I did when it was just me and my friends playing together. It was like I was a big fish in a little pond and I definitely couldn’t keep up with the big boys. Instead of fight my way through that, something inside of me would shut down instead.
I thought of my basketball experience this Saturday as I watched the Indiana vs. Illinois game. I have no doubt that the Hoosiers are good players. I mean, Kyle Taber was the Player of the Year in Evansville his Senior year. That’s no small accomplishment. I’m sure they do remarkably well during practice.
What I saw when I watched the game, though, was a bunch of guys who realized they didn’t have the raw talent to take on their opponent. And instead of fighting for every possession and crashing every board, they forgot how to play. Just like when I’d play against people who were better than me, the light switch went off.
The Hoosiers are inexperienced. That goes without saying. Michigan’s Fab Five were inexperienced and they were very successful. But they were one of the highest-rated recruiting classes of all time. They could overpower other teams with their raw talent and athleticism.
The Hoosiers don’t have All-American talent. At best, they have the talent level of a mid-major or a smaller school. Mid-majors and smaller schools don’t overwhelm other teams with their overpowering athleticism. Inexperienced mid-majors and smaller schools get beat up by the bigger, more experienced and talented teams. They get beat up by teams like Indiana used to be. And while they take their lumps their first year or two, a team with the right chemistry and good coaching can build on those beatings and turn into a threat to the big boys come tournament time of the young team’s senior year.
In a few years, I’m confident that this is what’s going to happen to the Indiana program. In case you hadn’t read it before on my blog, Tom Crean gets it. He understands what Hoosier Hysteria is all about. He understands that there’s a culture and tradition at IU. And he can build on that. But tradition doesn’t win basketball games. So during this massive rebuilding process, the Hoosiers might wind up looking a little bit like my freshman intramural team.
I’d like to say that we blew out our opponent in the opening round of our intramural tournament. We didn’t. But we did manage to lose to the #1 seed (the team that blew us out in the first game of the season) by single-digits.
Sometimes it’s important to celebrate the small things.
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