Good game!
The year was 1999. Classes had just finished and immediately the summer fever had taken hold of us. He closes the books and puts the bags in order because the time had come. Yes, the time has come once again for the Saudia City Basketball League. As kids growing up in Jeddah, the league was the one thing we would look forward to for the whole year. The SCBL had it all: basketball, friends, family, good food, pressure and excitement. The great circus was in town.
Days before the end of the school year, my dad would get some of his friends together and hold meetings about how the league would go. They talked night after night discussing every detail, from entry fees to trophies to basketball uniforms. They would seek out and ask for volunteers, people who were willing to coach teams and the gaming committee. As president, my dad received a large number of registration forms from children from all over the campus. And according to their ages, he would segregate them into 3 groups: A, B, C. Group A would be made up of adolescents aged 15 and older. Group B would have ages 11 to 14, with kids ages 10 and under being placed in group C. From these groups, you would form teams and use the players’ test scores to balance the teams.
After a week’s notice, my dad would post the teams on the bulletin board outside the court. Of course, he had already sneaked me into my father’s files to see who would be teammates with whom. The next day I would call my friends to go to court and look at the posts. It was like a wrestling match with all the pushing and shoving as we rushed through the lineups. Trashtalk was in play at the time one guy scoffed, “John, ang bulok niyo oh. Pati kulay ng team niyo pangit.” Curses here and there. Man, it was definitely turned on!
Finally, it was the opening day. I remember being so excited about our first game that I slept in the night before to get tips from an NBA game I was watching while tying my shoelaces. As soon as my dad got home from work, he’d eat and change into his casual clothes and we’d go to NW-4. The promised land. NW-4 was our Araneta Center. The place where you could showcase your talent in front of thousands of people, well maybe not thousands, but there were plenty. Every time I stepped onto the court, a tingling sensation came over me, proof that I was in high spirits. I was excited and nervous at the same time. The court was a beautiful sight. Outside, two benches faced each other, with the scoreboard and committee table in the middle. Bold white lines that traced the interior of the court brought to life the red and yellow paint that made up the free throw area and center circle. The orange steel rim, dropping a blue-red-white net, accentuated the black dash. And then there were the bleachers of the crowd. This was NW-4. This was my happy place.
Everyone was ready and focused as the referees assembled the five starters from each team in the center circle. alert to The ball is thrown into the air and the clock starts ticking. It was game time! Both teams went back and forth. A tray here, a block there. An assist here, a steal there. Players elbowed each other as they positioned themselves to grab rebounds. Between plays, he would joke with friends on the other team about how someone, during a play, looked as confused as a baby in a topless bar. One team would run out and the other would run back in. For everyone sitting in the stands, this was entertainment. Then came the bell. The first half was over.
At halftime, not only did the players take a breather, but so did the crowd. It was good that there were food stalls nearby to quiet those grumbling stomachs. My mom owned a stand that sold sodas, water, and coffee. She also sold chips, candy, and other drugs to children. My aunt’s stall catered mostly to adults. I remember how people loved her barbecue and devoured her goto for those cold windy nights. Placed next to her table was my aunt’s place. It served tasty burgers and hot dog sandwiches, for those looking for a quick snack. Halftime was the break. As people exchanged conversations, coaches and players had no free time as they discussed the good and bad things that happened in the first 20 minutes. Kids laugh and scream with rock candy crackling in their mouths as the referee blows the whistle to start the second half.
The battle continues, the crowd screaming with each possession. All the action in the game was called by Mr. Astrodome. People loved the game announcer because he always entertained the crowd with his antics. Every time he was in the game, he felt the need to make a good play or take a couple of shots. I try to do everything right as soon as I notice my crush looking in the stands, printing my way to win a “Good game!” her comment after the match. The third quarter went by as things heated up when someone received a technical for discussing a call with the zebras.
It was until the fourth quarter, where the players thrive on the pressure and inch toward the finish line. Both teams’ defense would become tighter than airport security. The intensity increased with each possession as sweat covered the players like flies on food. Every play was critical, every possession was crucial. In the end, my team would be victorious. Of course we would win, why would I choose to tell them otherwise? My teammates and I were giving each other high fives, expressing our glee. You’ll always want to come out on top in the first game for a chance to make fun of the opposing team about how stinky they were.
As the players shake hands and exchange pleasantries, the people in the stands gather their things and leave. The committee files the score sheets, pays the referees and goes home. What was once a loud and noisy place moments ago now becomes silent, like a stop sign on the side of a highway. My family always stays a little longer because my dad makes sure everything is in order before closing the place. He was tired as a monkey in the rain, but I soaked up the victory. I always took a couple of minutes before I left to get back on the court, shoot some hoops and imagine how the game was going, replaying every shot I took in my mind. All of this made me smile. Yes, this was my happy place. This was the SCBL.