Basketball in Midwood, and why I wasn’t a star
The number of really good, even really great, basketball players that came from Brooklyn is as breath-taking as the style of play most of them brought to the court. Of the 60 greatest players from New York that overlapped me by SlamonLine, twenty, one fourth, were Brooklyn Boys. This doesn’t include some like Mike Jordan who was born in Brooklyn but played his HS ball in N.C. Then Real GM adds another near dozen.
Brooklyn produced greats. I was not one of them. When one is isolated in an upper middle class Brooklyn neighborhood, is playing “B-ball” all the time, and only following the Knicks in the papers, not even one’s own high school much, fantasies can abound in one’s head. In my sophomore year, I tried out.
Preparatory to that I had proven myself as good as anyone in the neighborhood. I had a chance encounter at the school yard with a now long forgotten national all-star from South Carolina. I bedeviled him with defense during a pick-up game, stole a few balls from him, and even hit a few shots over him. He complimented me when we left the yard. I had read stories about Bob Petit who said there were days when he was in high school that he would spend a day taking upwards of 10,000 shots! That’s why he was Bob Petit and I wasn’t. But I did practice, sometimes for a few hours. At about 5’10 and 135 pounds I was not to be feared under the boards; however, without a coach to teach me strength regimes for my legs I could still, every-so-often dunk the ball. I stretched my hands until I could palm the ball; Sweet Water Clifton was model for that.