Minutes at Rucker Park
FROM SBNATION.COM
Â
T HOMAS âTJâ WEBSTER JR. waits impatiently for the ball to be tossed in the air. The only white player on the court, he can sense the eyes of the few dozen spectators lounging around the steel and plastic bleachers.
At half-court, the sole referee delicately balances the ball on his fingertips while simultaneously judging the slight breeze coming off the Harlem River.
Across the street, rising out of the ground where the once-famed Polo Grounds stood and Willie Mays tracked down fly balls, four 30-story housing projects known as the Polo Grounds Towers loom ominously over Holcombe Rucker Park.
TJ anxiously tugs at his long black shorts once, then again. The tattoos that start at his wrist and crawl toward his slender biceps glisten under the sun. At five-eleven, with a lithe upper body that more resembles that of a tennis player, he doesnât seem built for this game, or, perhaps, this place.
As the players wait for the scorerâs table to set up, TJ bends his knees, then jumps straight into the air, landing with controlled force. Itâs as if heâs testing the durability of the newly installed NBA-grade wood floor placed over the blacktop.
Despite his small size and light frame, he carries, like a weapon stashed under a vest, a 38-inch vertical jump. Along with his self-proclaimed âgreatâ outside jump shot, he knows that during this 20-minute open tryout heâll have to do enough to impress one of the handful of coaches glaring at him from the stands. They represent teams in the upcoming Entertainerâs Basketball Classic, an eight-week-long tournament and the jewel of New Yorkâs basketball summer circuit.
Just two days ago, TJ stepped off a cross-country bus with every penny to his name wedged into the bottom of his bag for a chance to change his life. Itâs a long shot; he understands that, and so do the other nine players on the court. There are only two ways to make an EBC team, either by reputation or by being selected after your performance in the open run.
Each year, one, maybe two players, at most, will be good enough to be granted a jersey and, in essence, a pass inside the halls of the cathedral of street basketball; a chance to feel the nearly religious power of Rucker Parkâthe same court that has hosted some of the greatest players to ever play the game.
In 1947, Holcombe Rucker, a Harlem teacher, started the predecessor to the EBC tournament on 128th Street, a mile south of its current location on West 155th Street, in the park now named in his honor. He viewed the tourney as a way to keep local youth busy during the summer months.
Over the next few decades, the tournament expanded and became vital to the community. Every local player with any game had to go through the crucible of Ruckerâs tournaments to prove he could play. Not only to himself and to other players, but also to the fans on the street who would sometimes wait for hours to squeeze inside the small park and watch basketball in its rawest form.
Although the tournament games are generally governed by the same rules as the indoor game, streetball has its own unique subculture. At its core, the attraction to the playground is the spontaneity and the depth of human expression. Without many, if any, set plays, extreme displays of individual skill and athleticism can flare at any moment. Early on, NBA players seeking a break from the stodgy confines of their winter league, and to solidify their street credentials, began flocking to the tournaments uptown. A young Lew Alcindor perfected his footwork there. Dr. J was a regular, and locals like Earl âThe Goatâ Manigault, Herman âThe Helicopterâ Knowings, and âPee-Weeâ Kirkland became legends almost equal in stature to their NBA counterparts.
On the court, other players with ability, but who lacked a name, had the opportunity to go toe-to-toe with the gameâs
FROM SBNATION.COM
Â
T HOMAS âTJâ WEBSTER JR. waits impatiently for the ball to be tossed in the air. The only white player on the court, he can sense the eyes of the few dozen spectators lounging around the steel and plastic bleachers.
At half-court, the sole referee delicately balances the ball on his fingertips while simultaneously judging the slight breeze coming off the Harlem River.
Across the street, rising out of the ground where the once-famed Polo Grounds stood and Willie Mays tracked down fly balls, four 30-story housing projects known as the Polo Grounds Towers loom ominously over Holcombe Rucker Park.
TJ anxiously tugs at his long black shorts once, then again. The tattoos that start at his wrist and crawl toward his slender biceps glisten under the sun. At five-eleven, with a lithe upper body that more resembles that of a tennis player, he doesnât seem built for this game, or, perhaps, this place.
As the players wait for the scorerâs table to set up, TJ bends his knees, then jumps straight into the air, landing with controlled force. Itâs as if heâs testing the durability of the newly installed NBA-grade wood floor placed over the blacktop.
Despite his small size and light frame, he carries, like a weapon stashed under a vest, a 38-inch vertical jump. Along with his self-proclaimed âgreatâ outside jump shot, he knows that during this 20-minute open tryout heâll have to do enough to impress one of the handful of coaches glaring at him from the stands. They represent teams in the upcoming Entertainerâs Basketball Classic, an eight-week-long tournament and the jewel of New Yorkâs basketball summer circuit.
Just two days ago, TJ stepped off a cross-country bus with every penny to his name wedged into the bottom of his bag for a chance to change his life. Itâs a long shot; he understands that, and so do the other nine players on the court. There are only two ways to make an EBC team, either by reputation or by being selected after your performance in the open run.
Each year, one, maybe two players, at most, will be good enough to be granted a jersey and, in essence, a pass inside the halls of the cathedral of street basketball; a chance to feel the nearly religious power of Rucker Parkâthe same court that has hosted some of the greatest players to ever play the game.
In 1947, Holcombe Rucker, a Harlem teacher, started the predecessor to the EBC tournament on 128th Street, a mile south of its current location on West 155th Street, in the park now named in his honor. He viewed the tourney as a way to keep local youth busy during the summer months.
Over the next few decades, the tournament expanded and became vital to the community. Every local player with any game had to go through the crucible of Ruckerâs tournaments to prove he could play. Not only to himself and to other players, but also to the fans on the street who would sometimes wait for hours to squeeze inside the small park and watch basketball in its rawest form.
Although the tournament games are generally governed by the same rules as the indoor game, streetball has its own unique subculture. At its core, the attraction to the playground is the spontaneity and the depth of human expression. Without many, if any, set plays, extreme displays of individual skill and athleticism can flare at any moment. Early on, NBA players seeking a break from the stodgy confines of their winter league, and to solidify their street credentials, began flocking to the tournaments uptown. A young Lew Alcindor perfected his footwork there. Dr. J was a regular, and locals like Earl âThe Goatâ Manigault, Herman âThe Helicopterâ Knowings, and âPee-Weeâ Kirkland became legends almost equal in stature to their NBA counterparts.
On the court, other players with ability, but who lacked a name, had the opportunity to go toe-to-toe with the gameâs
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