Hoops happiness
Why driveway basketball teaches the best life lessons and is the ultimate unifier
The family members stack up naturally at the free throw line. Nine people form in single file, ages 6 years to 44 years old. The food has been served, presents already opened and dessert has been delivered.
This is my favorite time of the party. Let the game of lightning begin.
When my wife and I were looking for a new house just over a year ago, I only had a few requirements. I wanted (ok, I demanded) a flat driveway, a spot for a nice hoop and space to shoot a regulation three-pointer. That’s reasonable, isn’t it? Thankfully, my wife agreed.
Growing up, I remember when my dad convinced an old friend to come over and help pour the concrete needed to install our hoop.
He took it a step further when he called a handyman to mount a spotlight so that that my five siblings and I could refine our ball handling drills on hot summer nights long past dusk.
Best of all, we watched eagerly as my dad called in one last favor and asked our neighbor to spray paint the exact dimensions of the free throw line and arc.
The games in our driveway from that point on were the best in town. And rain, sleet, snow or sun, the games would go on.
So, earlier this spring, I followed in my father’s footsteps. I called on a friend to help me measure my own court, I spent hours hand painting the lines and bought a new spotlight to extend the game.
I know, I am old school. Let me explain. This is about more than a simple hoop and a court. It is about life lessons.
It is about bringing people together, young and old, big and small for a common denominator that doesn’t involve a computer screen.
During a time when play dates must be scheduled weeks in advance, this is about signaling to the neighborhood kids that the game is on as soon as they hear the bounce of a basketball.
It is even about losing. My older brother never let me win, and to this day, I’m grateful for that. Perseverance is learned in defeat. Every summer, we’d spend hours with neighbors persistently pounding basketballs on the asphalt, only to limp in the back door late at night — our hands caked in dirt with nothing left to give.
This is about imagination. Growing up, our black-top driveway was my arena. Can’t you see the 15,000 people watching as the clock is ticking down and we are down by one point? Can’t you hear the swish of the net right before the buzzer sounds? Call me nostalgic, but I sure could.
Driveway basketball truly is the ultimate unifier. If you grew up with a hoop, you will instantly recall a memory. My favorite one-minute basketball commercial of all time from Dick’s Sporting Goods (below) highlights the story of “the hoop” so well.
“Through the years, the hoop becomes part of the family’s daily life and a focus of daily activity during pickup games, parties and even bittersweet goodbyes.”
— Ad Week on this spot from Dick’s Sporting Goods
Ad Week, in its review of the 2014 ad, goes on to say, “We all have certain possessions, which often enter our lives as gifts during childhood, that play important though at times almost invisible roles in our development.”
I know that the glow of our new hoop and the shine of the free throw line will never be as bright as it is right now.
When I turn back into the driveway of the old house where we grew up, I can still see our family hoop that has stood the test of time by residing in the same place for the past 30 years.
The basket is lower now, set up for young children. Like a grandparent who has aged gracefully over the years, that hoop is a constant reminder of steady and simpler times. The once bright white box on the backboard has faded and the rim now sags slightly. You have to bend down to see a trace of the yellow lines that once defined our court.
While the brutal Wisconsin winters have taken their toll on our hoop over the past three decades, they will never wash away the life lessons.
Now, it is time to pass those lessons on to the next generation.
