The Hoop and the Harm

From playing basketball with handicapped kids to becoming one myself, my ankle took an unfortunate twist last Friday. All week I look forward to shooting hoops with locals ages 13 and up.

The Japanese are sharp shooters, but lousy defenders. When scrimmaging they seek to shoot as much as possible from as far away as possible. Yamazaki, 21, has a 3-point shot matched in meanness only by his skin disease. His preferred firing range is from between the 3-point line and half court. Swish.

The only times I touch the ball on offense are by accident or offensive rebound. I quickly pass for fear of blowing another lay up. Like the rest of Japan, rims at the ward sports center take exception to foreigners. As the lone alien on the court, I’m easy to spot.

I contribute solely on the defensive end. I patrol the oversized international key while four teammates wait to fast break back down court. There’s no set offense – just fast breaking and 3-pointer launching. Sometimes they just stay on offense. Taking cigarette breaks in between games hasn’t increased their stamina to hustle back on defense.

By 8:30 p.m. I’m ready for a break, too. I sub out 15 minutes early to take advantage of nebiki, discount food shopping, at Chiyoda Sushi. Prices are slashed up to 50% to clear the day’s inventory.

Besides, you know what they say about taking that one last run on the ski slopes. I don’t want to tempt fate in that final game for fear of injuring, well, someone else. I’m known to foul hard, going for ball or head – whichever is closer – in hopes of recording a thunderous block. Swatting the ball out of bounds with authority has caused badminton players on the opposite side of the gym to take notice.

Last Friday, however, I skipped nebiki. Goseki, 21, and always sporting New Jersey Nets gear, was telling me about his upcoming trip to NY with Yamazaki to see the Nets face the Knicks at Madison Square Garden. I frowned. He smiled and said, “Do you feel homesick?”

With about one minute left, somehow I got the ball on the perimeter. Feeling frisky, I surprised everyone by hoisting a shot. My outside touch has improved, but this attempt smacked the side of the rim with a thud. Frustration mounted at not adding to 4 points the whole night (on six shots).

Similar to Japanese shops, “closing time” music filled the gym. Fourteen all. Last play. Offense. Goseki missed a 3. I rebounded. I was too far under the basket to put it back up. I didn’t pass. Not this time. I dribbled outside, then back into the key. Three defenders converged. Pivot, fake, spin. I saw an opening, and sliced between two defenders. Jump! Airborne, I flicked the ball. Light touch. Looks good! Bouncing around on the rim. Front. Back. Bouncing…oooww –

Pain shot through my leg. I’m down. And couldn’t get up.
Did the shot fall like the shooter? Find out tomorrow.