I used to be really good at basketball. That was a long time ago. Now I’m just great at coaching basketball. Or, I was. My son has aged out, so I guess my time doing that is over, too. But OK so back in the day: I played in a 3-on-3 tourney in downtown Waco, long before it became the shiplap capital of the world. We played a team from a boys’ home: a tall black kid and two stocky white guys with mullets and mustaches and Kentucky jerseys. The latter two, oddly, were the ones who called me the N-word. We advanced past them on free throws. I got pushed onto my back every time I went up for a shot. Needless to say it got extremely chippy. Did I drop an MF bomb in front of my best friend’s mom? Maybe. Anyway, we were not a marquee game but by the end, the court was surrounded by spectators and tournament officials on walkie talkies. And both teams hugged after.
I thought of this because I just heard of a 3-on-3 charity tourney coming up next weekend. This photo that I have included has all the relevant details.
