All basketball attention will be directed at San Antonio until the NCAA ceremony on Monday night. Three of the four head coaches – Auburn’s Blue Pal, Duke’s John Shayer (whose youngest son, Luke, is the fourth-year manager for the Blue Devils), and Florida’s Todd Golden were part of the Vermitz Bahed. Their dedication is unmatched and their flaws make them just like the rest of us. Hallelujah! Mazel Tov! They are Jewish and have been brought up celebrating Purim, Passover, and Chanukah, yet their “faith” might be described as “Hoopism,” reflecting over a century of Jewish passion and bond with this magnificent sport.
There exists black pride, gay pride, Hispanic pride, magag pride, and perpetually Jewish pride. You were educated about the Holocaust, the most horrific and barbaric act in history that remains a serious scar.
You were taught to honor elders, women, and educators, with “education” seen as the gateway to the “American Dream.” Thus, you learned to aspire, toil, and read. “Become a doctor,” her mother urged. “Lawyer,” insisted my father. Teacher; “Just be happy, Bubara,” Grandma advised. Here lies the echo in your mind: “Most of them detest us.”
Ah, but here lies the ball, the equalizer, the pathway to integration. This is the dwelling of the Lower East Side settlement, designed by architects of genuine progressive movements of the previous century, on a ladder beneath the Fire Escape, half-moon backboard at Mosholu Parkway. Bounce off the twisted hanger and imitate the playful voices of Marty Glickman or Marv Albert, bringing this round ball, child, as a rim of the bedroom door shuts over your younger siblings. The ball transformed into a voice. Fire allows you to escape the ladder of backboards and rims, friends, rivals, teams, regulations, coaches, both good and bad, love, obsessions, is there any real distinction at the start?
