And we shall fly kites to the sun!

Yes... It's about Basketball!... My anthropological take...

...Sooo....my 6 year old nephew just started playing basketball. And although, I have been totally against the stereotyping, media propaganda, and societal typecasting of black men and  basketball (sports period), I  am being forced to pay attention to the sport on a new level. Of course he is absolutely one of the cutest things running around!---Moon walking---and Billie Jean toe-stands happening on the court every chance he gets! (and I? the proud auntie?... I am all smiles!)  But, it's more than that! A few Saturdays ago, I got to attend his very first game!  It was my first b-ball game in years. Beyond just being in full cheerleader mode ("Go X Go!!!") I did observe some other things about the game that I must give credit to.

The basketball court ( team sports) is one of the few places in America where black men are permitted to gather as a collective without being postured as a threat. The camaraderie and brotherhood that is a natural institution in most other societies is--mandated through unspoken law-- illegal for black men in America. (Some conscious efforts have been made to remedy this,  like HBCU's as well as black fraternities, I know, but still...) On that same note, and with the societal issues becoming more complex, with  an entire nation of black men in prison,  there  are also not an abundant number of opportunities to receive a black man as a teacher in America.  Of course it happens; but, it's definitely not in abundance. During the game, I realized that the coach is often that rare teacher moment.

 Well, on the same team as my nephew, there was another very adorable little boy who was even more lost in the game than my Lil' Man! ("Go X Go!!!")  As everyone else ran, he stood still, shy and ready to cry. I saw his mother and noticed there was no father with her. Then I looked back at the game in time to see this huge man (coach!) pick up the little boy, tuck him under his arm,  and run him down the court! The coach ensured that the child would be a part of  the game, even if it meant with his own legs! I wondered. This person called "coach."  I  phoned and  asked a couple of basketball playing friends about the role of "coach" in their lives. But before I received their responses,  the first thing I received from these men was an instant vibration of combined tenderness, nostalgia, passion,  reverence, and humility. 

With no mention about the specifics of the game, here's what they said "coach" taught them:
 
Black Men United- You will know by tricej

 "My coach taught me courage. He highlighted what I was naturally good at, showed me how to strengthen those natural skills, and turn them into my role. My coach taught me how to best use my energy exertion as part of a team. He showed  me how to stick to my own role, how to see my role in relation to others, and how to  use that vision to accomplish the  greater goal.  He taught me collective reliability over personal accolades.  Also, in sports the role of the coach, supersedes even societal issues...beyond race--the bonds built between coach and team...they really are loving relationships."
                                                _______

"Every coach I ever had, always pulled me aside and let me know that I was special,  that there was something different about me. They helped me to understand why I was different, and helped me to apply my abilities to more than basket ball. As a child, I was so passive that I could have easily gotten into a gang. I couldn't see my strengths, but my coaches pointed them out. My coach taught me how to be a leader and not a follower. He showed me-- made me see-- how others followed my lead, even when I wasn't trying to lead. ...and he told  me not to be afraid to let basketball be my girlfriend!...  kept me out of a lot of trouble..."



I had asked  one of those same friends recently about his creativity--where/how it gets expressed. He said,  "You may think it silly sounding, but...it's while playing ball."  I noted some years ago,  upon learning about some of the "latest educational break-throughs" such as  Brain Gym and other kinesthetic learning modules,  that such movement plays a vital role in brain development. These educational breakthroughs highlight some very simple movements that activate and connect both the right and left brain. I saw the connect to African dance immediately. African dance is poly-rhythmic movements at its finest. It therefore sits as the base of African intellect. Geniusness cloaked in rhythms (Isn't that the same model of Creation over all???) Now,  the need for community and togetherness, dance, creativity, and positive self-expression for young black men in America is an entire topic within itself. However, I have begun to see basketball, as more than simply sport---but as  the poly-rhythmic movement /cognitive development  and creative outlet for young boys and men.

Am I saying that I no longer consider the NBA to be the current-day-billion-dollar-plantation? No.  I still do. And do I still think that same rhythm, ambidexterity, and keen eye-hand coordination could also be used and promoted to create more neuro-surgeons? Yes.  However, I must also note that within merely weeks of playing... I have heard my nephew's confidence, speech, voice, and conversation connect to the moment in a way that I have not heard previously. And I can't down play the timing as coincidence.

To coaches James "Twiggy" Sanders, Mark Graves, and  Clyde Turner, you should know that you've been key players in molding boys into a couple of the finest men I know...and that you are deeply appreciated. (And to the daddy of Miles  coaching at the Durham YMCA... helping my nephew to score his first 3 shots last week!!!!...and for helping  him to sound so grown up in only weeks... I THANK YOU.)

(Oh, and it was also brought to my attention that the court is one of the few places where men are allowed complete expression of their emotions. Where they may not be able to cry in their relationship, in their home or in public...it is completely acceptable for a grown man to get down on his knees, in joy or sorrow, and cry on the basketball court....)

How can I not be a fan?