Basketball... And the Luck of the Irish

I was eight years old when I first picked up a basketball.

I remember vividly — it was on the bitumen outdoor court at Woodville Primary School. I’d heard that practice was happening and I knew I wanted to be part of it. I’d recently discovered the NBL on television, and was giddy at the prospect of being able to play the same fast and furious sport that my heroes from the Adelaide 36ers, Al Green, Mark Davis and Darryl Pearce, played.

By the time I reached high school I was playing three times a week — for a local church, my school as well as the local district league, the Forrestville Eagles — as well as training twice a week. I was never good enough to make the Division 1 team at Forrestville, but was happy enough throughout my teens to play in Divisions 2 and 3 and get more court time. By this stage I had convinced my father to erect a hoop, with backboard, on the side of our house, and spent more time shooting baskets in the driveway than studying.

At high school I was introduced to NBA basketball, and began following the rise and rise of such superstar legends of the game as Larry Bird, Earvin ‘Magic’ Johnson, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and Julius ‘Dr J’ Irving. Here was a league that took both talent and entertainment to a new level.

When Michael Jordan soared onto the screen, my love for the game bordered on obsessive, and I decided there and then that I absolutely had to make it to an NBA game, one day.

Last night, 18 years later, I got that chance. Brendon and I drove in to San Antonio to watch the Spurs host the Boston Celtics, the team with which I’d always had a soft spot for since following Larry Bird and living in Massachusetts in my early twenties. Prior to these two teams meeting, the Spurs had beaten the Celtics 18 times in a row. The Spurs had won their past 13 games, and were sitting in third position on the ladder.

My beloved Celtics were not having quite as successful a season, flailing at the very bottom of the Eastern Conference. And they were playing the Spurs at home. It was not looking promising, but at least I was going to be there in the flesh when my team got its butt kicked.

However, defying all odds and everyone’s expectations (and much to the disappointment of the sell-out crowd of Spurs fans), the Celtics managed to pull off a massive upset and win by six points in an exciting nailbiter that had Brendon and I cheering in a sea of silence. The game had its scrappy moments, but it also had the occasional flash of NBA showtime (usually from the Spurs’ Tim Duncan) and was thoroughly entertaining.

Unfortunately I wasn’t allowed to take my video camera in to the game, so had to settle for taking a few snaps with a disposable camera. When I get round to getting the film developed, I’ll scan them in and post them. Photographic mementos aside, I was delighted with the result.

Of course, with their dismal record this year, the Celtics are still at the bottom of the ladder. But on this one game they came through for me, and I went home a happy man. I’d like to think that my presence contributed a small part to the Celtics pulling out their best, but chances are that it had more to do with their Irish heritage and the game coinciding with St. Patrick’s day. But you never know.

Scout will definitely grow up to be a Celtics fan.

Tags: celtics, dream, nba, sanantonio, spurs, texas

posted: 19.03. 2007, 14:22 (2)