An old adage says, “After the rain, comes sun.” And if it weren’t for a destructive tropical storm in 1989, the intense ray of sun that has warmed and nourished the hoops landscape over the previous seventeen years might have remained hidden under a cloak of obscurity.

When Hurrican Hugo completed its wrath on the U.S. Virgin Islands in ‘89, one of the fortunate consequences of its terror was flinging Tim Duncan into the welcoming arms of basketball. Read More »

The Dish aka The Assist. It’s my favorite part of the game because it’s the most philanthropic. While most casual observers appreciate the dudes that can get buckets, my informal education as a New York City playground point guard stipulated that I acknowledge, comprehend and cherish the brilliance of the pass that led to the basket, as well as players with an innate ability to make others better.

And few players running the point will ever, in my eyes, match the understated brilliance of Maurice Edward Cheeks. Read More »

photo: espn-ak.starwave.com

The Dunk! The Ram! The Slam! The Bong! Whatever you want to call it, it’s an art form, birthed on the playground, that has revolutionized the way the game is played. And no two teams, as collective units, were more responsible for furthering the evolution of the aerial game than Texas’ Tallest Fraternity and Louisville’s descendants of Dr. Dunkenstein.

It seems only fitting that they’d meet in the ‘83 Final Four, in a game that was so scintillating in its elevation that it prompted a courtside sportswriter to pass a note down press row that read, “Welcome to the 21st Century!” Read More »

photo: my.nba.com

The Dunk! The Ram! The Slam! The Bong! Whatever you want to call it, it’s an art form, birthed on the playground, that has revolutionized the way the game is played. And few used the Bang! to make a bigger splash than Anthony Jerome Webb, aka Spud. Read More »

photo: flickr.com

FLY!

Back in the days, the word was a staple in the NYC urban vernacular – a ubiquitous adjective that meant smooth, slick, incredible, pleasing to the eye, dapper and cool all rolled into one inspiring conglomeration. Cats yearned to have the flyest crib, the flyest car, the flyest wardrobe, the flyest ladies.

And on the city’s playground landscape in the ’70s, everybody wanted to have Fly’s game. His government name was James Williams. But like all of the transcendant talents that rose off the asphalt, whose exploits travelled across geographical barriers and continental divides by word of mouth, the skills engendered a legendary alias that would live forever: Earl Manigault aka The Goat, Joe Hammond aka The Destroyer, Herman Knowings aka The Helicopter, Fly – you get the idea. Read More »

photo: jamd.com

“Simple and plain, give me the lane, I’ll throw it down your throat like Barkley!” - Chuck D’s lyrics from the Public Enemy classic, Rebel Without A Pause.

To young fans, Charles Barkley is simply a former player. He’s better known as the affable television personality that always has something funny to say on the TNT show, Inside the NBA.

But for those who watched ball in the ’80s and ’90s, he was an awe inspiring, revolutionary talent that turned the establishment on its ear. He was an unstoppable, undersized, 6′4″ power forward who owned the low post, an explosive leaper and ferocious rebounder who could dribble, pass, score and pump gallons of fear through the hearts of even the most accomplished big men. Read More »