Jordan And Me At Hoop City
Hangin' With The 'Other' Jordan Shows Why NCAA Hoops Rules
Patrick Donnelly, Staff WriterMarch 31, 2001, 1:57 a.m. EST
MINNEAPOLIS -- If you're among those ready to write off college basketball as a tainted product, the best young stars in the game caught in the clutches of the NBA, you need to read about a 12-year-old kid with a soft shot and a softer grin. The kind of kid for whom March Madness is more than just a registered trademark of the NCAA and CBS Television, Inc.
But more on that in a moment.
With the NCAA men's basketball Final Four in town, I hit the pavement looking for a good original story. And because I'm a proud Minneapolitan, I wanted to do my civic duty by helping this weekend's visitors enjoy our fair city. That's what led me to volunteering at NCAA Hoop City, an interactive basketball carnival where John Wooden Way intersects with Bighouse Gaines Avenue and children from 4 to 84 live out their favorite hoop dreams.
The list of activities would leave any gymrat in hardcourt heaven. A dozen mini-courts await this weekend's 3-on-3 tournaments. Hoops set at heights from six to 10 feet give anybody a chance to dunk like a champion. The Hershey's Kids Court is a sea of toddlers knee-high to a ball rack getting their first crack at dribbling like Curly Neale.
And that's just the start.
"I love Hoop City because it gives everybody a chance to be on a court and shoot around," says Erica Carver, Hoop City chair and head volunteer coordinator. "There's so much to do here for everybody of all ages, I can't imagine anyone getting bored."
Bored is the last adjective you could use to describe Carver. With cell phone blaring and people tugging on her sleeve at every turn, she estimates that she'll work about 15 hours a day for the next four days, and maybe, just maybe she'll get a chance to see part of the championship game after Hoop City closes on Monday.
But you won't catch her complaining. As I found out today, the 600 volunteers at Hoop City work hard, but hey, it beats the day job.
Mascot Mania
My shift started with Erica asking me if I wouldn't mind putting on a mascot costume and walking through the crowd for the first hour or so. Mascot duty, huh? Wow, that could be pretty cool. I mean, to get a chance to walk in Sparty Spartan's boots or Wilbur Wildcat's paws for even just a few minutes . . . I quickly agreed.
There was a slight mixup, however, because I soon found out that the roles had already been assigned, and I was instead called on to be a mascot "escort" -- basically, they wanted me to walk around with the mascots and make sure they didn't trample any small children or trip over electrical wires.
I tried to hide my disappointment.
But my dismay turned to relief when I saw the actual mascots. No, we wouldn't have been working the room as the beloved sideline figures you see each week on TV. Instead, I would have been a giant candy bar.
So I took a spin through Hoop City with the colossal confections, steering my Hershey guy around as he sweated off 10 pounds in an hour, before I was dropped off at the Free Throw Challenge on the corner of Dean Smith Street and Henry Iba Lane.
And that's where the magic happened.
It's A Zen Thing
Shooting free throws is more than just a skill. It's a Zen-type experience. A good free-throw shooter will enter a transcendent state of being -- one where brain, body and soul are working as one, and the only sound you hear is thumpthumpthump…swish.
My job at the Free Throw Challenge was to stand beneath the hoop and shag balls for shooters. Three warm-ups, then it's make-it-take-it from there. One miss and you go to the end of the line to think about how you just let your teammates down in the biggest game of your life. Or something like that.
It was fun helping the little kids who moved up to 10 feet, heaved the ball from their knees and clapped with glee when they hit a shot. More pure, authentic joy you'll not see on Monday night at the Metrodome.
It was also fun helping the middle-school aged kids just starting to get good at knocking them down from 15 feet. One such shooter was a 10-year-old fifth-grader, Stephanie Brennan, from Omaha. She told me she comes to the Final Four every year, but she doesn't really like watching basketball, just playing it.
Stephanie claims, "I never practice." But watching her stroke foul shots, her wiry frame tense and her face screwed into a knot of concentration, I found that hard to believe. And the fact that she came through the line, oh, 15 times in an hour belied that statement as well. Here's a kid who loves practicing fundamentals.
Another treat was watching the true free throw artistes, people who've spent years perfecting the art of the 15-foot set shot. My third shooter was an unassuming chap named Mike Behnam. A 1993 graduate of Benilde-St. Margaret's High School in suburban Minneapolis, Benham played one year at Augsburg College -- the school that spawned Arizona coach Lute Olson and, more recently, Devean George of the Lakers.
Benham was obviously the guy who shot the technicals at his school. His smooth stroke didn't vary once as he dropped 41 straight through the hoop. He later told me his personal best was actually 73, and that he once made 98 of 100 in a practice.
A couple of lanes over, a crowd started to gather as a 20-something guy got on a hot streak that didn't end until he hit 109 straight. Strange, because he didn't really have a classic form, but hell, they went in.
Jordan Rules
But the day's highlight had to be a wisp of a 12-year-old, Jordan Stasyszyn of Carlisle, Penn. The little lefty from Jim Thorpe country, whose entire head was eclipsed by the orange Rawlings every time he set up for a shot, was the last person you'd expect to knock down a string of foul shots. I almost insulted him by giving him the smaller kids' ball to shoot. What a mistake that would have been.
The kid didn't even need his three warm-ups. He just started stroking.
thumpthumpthump…swish…thumpthumpthump…swish…thumpthumpthump…swish
When he hit 10 straight I cocked an eyebrow at the guy working the hoop next to me. When he hit 20 straight I made a mental note to talk to this kid after he was done.
thumpthumpthump…swish…thumpthumpthump…swish…thumpthumpthump…swish
By that time, I was silent. I knew my role -- just catch the ball, feed him a perfect one-hop pass to his chest, and get ready to catch the next one. No need for encouragement. No need to express amazement. The kid was in the zone.
thumpthumpthump…swish…thumpthumpthump…swish…thumpthumpthump…swish
When he was somewhere near 30, a shot left his hand and didn't quite follow the same arc. It rattled off the back rim, bounced to the front … and dropped. We made eye contact, and both breathed a sigh of relief. Neither of us could contain a slight sheepish grin -- as if we were the only two in the building who were in on a private joke.
thumpthumpthump…swish…thumpthumpthump…swish…thumpthumpthump…swish
At 40, I barely had to look at the hoop anymore. I just held my hands out beneath the net and the ball dropped softly to my fingers every time.
A couple shots later, he asked me, "You got a count, right?" You can't expect the masters to keep track of the mundane details while they're at work, after all. I assured him that, indeed, I was on it.
thumpthumpthump…swish…thumpthumpthump…swish…thumpthumpthump…CLANK
After 49 straight, Jordan finally missed one.
And there was that sheepish grin again.
Turns out, Jordan was a ringer.
Turns out, Jordan is the Pennsylvania state free throw champion. He hit 24 of 25 in the finals at State College. ("I love the Crispin brothers," he told me, "because they can shoot!")
Turns out, Jordan's dad, Joe, is the head coach at Carlisle High School.
Well that explains a lot. Jordan said his previous best was 40 straight, so he can hang his little hat on that. And when I see him knocking down foul shots in college in about eight years, I can feel like I had a small piece of his success.
I shook his hand and wished him luck if he tries again.
"Oh, I'll be back," he said with a smile.
Me too, Jordan. I can't wait until my next shift on Sunday.
Final Four Edition …
5. Dick Vitale -- He could die of euphoria this weekend.
4. Shane Battier -- Nice to see a guy who stays for his senior year get rewarded with a trip to the Final Four.
3. Tom Izzo -- Is there a better coach in the country?
2. Gary Williams -- Maybe him.
1. Eugene Edgerson -- The hair. The knee pads. The work ethic. The degree in elementary education. You just gotta love this guy.
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Patrick Donnelly is a national sports editor and columnist for Internet Broadcasting Systems. He likes Arizona to win the national title. How 'bout you?
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