On October 3rd, I was in Oakland to spin the opening night of a spot called The New Parish. With some free time on my hand in the morning, though, I heard rumor that there was decent run at a sports club around the corner from my hotel, so I ventured . . .

“You play ball?” the front desk attendant asked me. “Your game better be tight cuz they don’t play around upstairs!” The other attendant recognized my grillpiece from Waxpoetic Magazine and asked, “You’re that DJ, right?” She then told me my debit card didn’t work (as in she was letting me in gratis).

The court was empty at 8:30am save a couple of old heads. I started shooting around and this dude who looked exactly like Avery Johnson to a T asked, “You’ve played somewhere, huh?” Cool dude, turned out his brother Keith Jennings ran in the Golden State Warriors backcourt with Tim Hardaway some years back.

Speaking of Tim, I joined a game of 21 on the opposite court and wound up going hard against this Nigerian player who talked maaad smack and whose game exactly resembled Hardaway’s, crossovers and knuckleball jumper and all. I ripped him and the other players started gassing the match-up! No way could I guard him, though. He told me he played at a local JuCo and had only picked up the game at age 26 (he was probably in his late 30s now). He was nice, but you could tell that he studied lil’ Tim to the utmost.

I went to sign up for the fulls, and although there were only seven of us in the gym, there was already 20 players on the list! What was the sense of that! Me and the Tim body double wound up on the same squad, but lost, as I would continue the next two hours. No me importa, I was having fun and cats were showing me mad love: “You from New York, right? I knew it!”

Everyone cleared out, and the only two left were me . . . and poor man’s Tim. We played three games of 1 on 1, and he beat me in all of them, crossed the multi-grain cheerios out me on one play, but I got to catch him a couple of times bad, too. Real bad. Afterwards, he said, “You got a nice jumper for a guy that dribbles fancy, normally don’t see that . . .” Nice dude, and I appreciated that.

I walked back to the Marriot, and out of the elevator walks out none other than Baron Davis who was in town with the Clippers for an exhibition game. “Bobbito, what you doing here?!!!” I think of all the NBA players I’ve met the last couple of years, he’s the most outgoing to say what’s up to me every time consistently. I gave him a pound and invited him to the gig. When I told New Parish co-owner Namane, he shared with me the illest story about Baron:

” . . . That year when the Warriors shocked the Mavs in the first round? Man, Baron was the biggest thing in the Bay. Biggest. Kanye did a concert that summer, and there were others on the bill like Rihanna, etc. Baron came out of one of the entrances to the main floor, and a fan spotted his beard from afar. Within 30 seconds, the entire crowd was chanting “Warriors, Warriors, Warriors!” and continued until he found his seat. All he did was walk across the floor, and he literally got more applause than anyone on stage!”

Namane also shared how hurt the town was when Baron broke out to the Clippers, but that can’t touch how saddened I was to find out recently that Demetrius “Hook” Mitchell, Oakland’s #1 playground legend who graced our Bounce issue #3 cover, had unfortunately landed on old paths and worked his way off the court . . . and back into California’s correctional facilities. Rob Stone, one of the producers of Fader Films Hook documentary, confirmed this to me himself. I’ve been trying to find an address inside to write the brother. Hook and I were cool. He took me to a local run a couple of years back when I was in town, and what a joy to be on the court with him.

Oakland may have big basketball shadows left on it, but there is a lot of positive change going on in that city. If my dj gig was any testimony to it, then allow God’s light to shine on that town, particularly one cell where a great one now resides . . .

From Deep