Burn Notice

Be quick to hear, slow to speak, and slow to anger.

I'm trying to live by words like these.

I caught this one from a wise man I know, and added it to my personal repetoire. Don't cry over spilled milk. What's in the past, is in the past. The heart of a fool proclaims foolishness. That sorta stuff.

I watched The Decision from my job. The white walled interior reflected my visage as the self-proclaimed King made his announcement. My initial reaction was to snap a chair over my knee like Bam Bam Bigelow, but I wanted to remain gainfully employed. Kind of a big deal.
Instead, I traveled to a comedy show and laughed LOUDLY. I was miserable.

People have been asking/txting/postal mailing me since Thursday, begging me to give commentary about the LeBacle. But as Jigga Man once said...what more can I say? Lebron treated Cleveland like the townspeople in Friday Night Lights treated Jason Street after he broke his vertebrae. I had to hold off the writing for 48 hours to avoid mutating into Dan Gilbert and breaking out the Comic Sans font.

(Friday Night Lights is a GREAT show, for the record. And it's on Netflix's Instant Watch! Hooray! #companyman)

My rant is going to be quick and painless (at least for the non-Cleveland fans). After I write this, I'm done with the Lebron talk. I'm going to try my hardest to avoid mentioning the word Lebron for ANOTHER 48 hours. Bienvenido a Miami, jerk.

Whenever you can shoehorn Will Smith into a post, you've got to do it.

1. Joe Johnson ended up winning of the LeBron sweepstakes.
Funny how the highest-paid player in the National Basketball Association is a guy that couldn't even get his team out of the second round. That deal's going to be a bigger albatross than Gilbert's contract in two years. Maybe I should've just skipped SAT prep classes to work on my handle after all.

The seventeen Hawks fans have got to be PISSED that he got this much cheese. Welp. Enjoy your second round exits.
2. Lebron can never be the G.O.A.T.
When LeBron made his choice at 8:00am EST on Thursday as he claimed (yeah right), he was choosing between the Red Pill or the Blue Pill:

Red Pill: Establish myself as a global icon, in a brand-new city of my choice (New York, Chicago, Los Angeles), while dually making a legit case for the G.O.A.T. Shoot for the moon, young LeBron. If I miss, big deal. I'll be loved by that city, revered and probably get my jersey retired once I'm done playing.

Blue Pill: Live the Vincent Chase (Entourage) life. Take an easy supporting cast role alongside Dwayne Wade (Aquaman), party and carouse with muchas chicas and my brosephs during the season, live tax-free, and play hard about 65% of the regular season (which is about 10-15 games too long, anyway). However, I'll live in Wade's shadow, never get a crack at the G.O.A.T. argument, and get lumped into the annals of time with guys like Adrian Dantley and David Robinson.

I'm surprised he took the Miami route. I'm even more suprised he dissed his state, thinking he'd be able to live there in the offseason. Yeah right. Prepare for bags of fecal matter on your porch, dude.

Plus, if he cares so much about his brand...why would he squash the only thing that will hold weight once he hangs up the jock strap? The reason Jordan's still HUGE is because his legacy and merchandise reach far beyond his game. We see images of MJ in the red Chicago #23, we wear his matching Air sneakers, and make him relevant as time whizzes past. Who's going to be wearing a #23 or #6 jersey in twenty years?
3. Kobe is about to win The Argument.
My dude Carrington (Kobe fan) brought up a great point on my Facebook "wall" yesterday, and he's right. What happens if the Video Game Dream Team smacks Kobe in the mouth next year to take the title? Kinda ruins Kobe's run, right? WRONG.

Think about it the other way. Kobe's playing with house money. Suddenly, the defending champs are expected to lose. (When has that ever happened?) If Kobe beats the VGDT...he enters rarified air. Instant Top Five All Time. Suddenly, he's making a case for the G.O.A.T., and everyone's rooting for him because of this fresh Lebron hate. Perfect scenario for the Mamba, and he didn't even do anything. While Lebron and Wade are taking pictures with wannabes on South Beach, I'd bet MONEY Kobe's lifting weights with guys as big as Guile at Ft. Hood or something. And come with real money.

4. D-Wade enters the Argument.
I set you up with the Street Fighter reference in the last sentence, and I'm about to go deep into the anime universe. Stay with me for a second. I promise it'll make sense. As long as you don't make me pinkie swear.

Remember Street Fighter II, the Animated Movie? Came out back when Street Fighter was all the rage in the mid 90s? Of course you do. Anyway, Bison (the crime syndicate overlord) is wreaking havoc throughout the entire movie in his plan to brainwash the strongest fighters in the world. In the final fight sequence, he is beating the crap out of Ryu and Ken with his psycho power. However, for no apparent reason, he rips off his chain (source of his power) and shouts at Ryu and Ken, "Come on! I’ll fight you on your level now!" Bad idea jeans.

Of course, he gets waxed by our heroes. The day is saved. God bless his soul.
Low-key, me thinks that's part of the reason why Wade (Ryu) lured Lebron to South Beach rather than the other way around. As Simmons alluded to in his piece this week, Wade wasn't leaving. He needs the cash for his alimony checks. Even though Bosh (Ken) put this formiable alliance in motion, Wade knew that the tag-team wasn't going to get them over the edge. Bosh is great, but he's no superstar. He's not worth max money. He's an All-Star, not a franchise player. He's the Fredo to Wade's Michael.

Wade pulled Lebron into his sphere so that he could usurp the throne. All Lebron (Bison) wanted was respect and allegiance...Wade will give him that. In return, Lebron has given up something far more valuable...his G.O.A.T. birthright. While LeBron waltzes around south Florida like a kid in a candy store, Wade can realistically make a play for the MVP. Plus, he's not the villain.

Check the celebration video. Wade parades around the arena, gets the microphone first, and embraces the cheers for his successful swipe of Bron and Bosh...but the "King" remains silent. He gets the microphone once Wade is done. He gets to talk once Wade is finished talking. The King is being led by the Prince, not the other way around.

Wade owns Miami. Lebron's just paying rent.

5. Lebron has gone from mogul to merecenary.
We'll revisit this point once LBJ's knees give way, but it's worth bringing up for a second. If Miami belongs to Dwayne Wade, where will the King rest his head? Well, he won't. I see Lebron taking the Shaq route -- burning bridges, signing with sub-par teams, trying to relive the good life. He's going to be on so many teams that his HOF plaque is going to look like a Color By Number coloring book.

I'm sorry to be that guy, but it's time to move past. There are HUGE issues we've got to tackle that are bigger than the Lebron crap. Cliff Lee got traded to the Texas Rangers. The cop who wasted Oscar Grant got off with involuntary manslaughter. And BP's still banging that oil drum slowly in the Gulf. In short, we've got bigger fish to fry.

LeBron, we're done with you now. Go away. Don't let the door hit you on the way out.

M.B., II

The Curious Case of Kobe Bean Bryant

In sports, whenever a superstar is precariously close to realizing their biggest individual dreams, a myriad of historically relevant questions tend to saturate our discussion. In the case of one Kobe Bean Bryant, one question tends to become more pronounced than the others:

Has “The Mamba” eclipsed M-Jeff Jordan?

See, I've never been big on saying anyone has "eclipsed" anyone, because basketball (unlike any other sport) is about experimentation, mimicry, and free-flow (like I mentioned in the first installment of my “Basketball and the Black Aesthetic” series). Kobe gained from Mike, who gained from Dr. J, who gained from the Big O, who gained from Baylor, etc, etc, etc. No one is mutually exclusive.

Football is our chess match. Baseball is our marathon. However, Basketball…ahh, basketball…is the result of our creativity running wild…like an experiment that's constantly improved and reworked.

Instead of answering this question (which has been debated both ways and now bores me to death), allow me to posit a more intriguing query. No offence.

How will we remember Kobe Bean Bryant in 15 years?

Before winning this latest championship, the Kobe Bryant of 2003-2009 came off as a more smug reincarnation of Jordan, an athlete with a huge chip on his shoulder (Shaq). He's a product of the "Let's Find the Next Jordan!" basketball decade. He's also hurt by the increased scrutiny that faces the modern player, the YouTube clips, the blogs, etc, etc, etc. There will never be another MJ because people expect too much from our superstars now. Think about it. When LBJ hit that fadeaway 3 to beat the Magic in the ECF, how did you react? Honestly? Sad to say, I was like "It's about time." WHAT? Lebron had just hit a fade away three with 1.0 sec left over two guys to keep his team alive in the series...and I wasn't floored. Impressed? Yes. Floored? No, not really.

Therein lies the problem. As 2 Corinthians 10:12 says and I paraphrase, "When you do all of this comparing and grading, you quite miss the point" (Message). While no one is mutually exclusive as far as the acquisition of their skills and abilities go, everyone deserved to be treated separately from those who came before them. If my Uncle was a no-good cheat, does that mean that you're allowed to treat me as such? Of course not. Kobe should be allowed to exist simply as Kobe, LBJ simply as LBJ, Nate Robinson simply as Krypto-Nate (I kid, I kid).

But as fans, we don't allow that to happen. We need our guys to be tangible, to fit some designated mold we’ve previously crafted with our defective imaginations. But that's stupid. Everyone's different, and should be given space to be whoever they want. If Tim Thomas chooses to ignore his basketball potential and simply enjoy his steady stream of dollars and cents, why not let him?

Well, because it pains us to do so. He’s wasting his opportunity, we yell. That could’ve been me, we scream. You get to play basketball for a living, others complain. For this reason, we hate it when our guy misses a layup in crunch time, or clangs a free throw to extend the series, or loses a series-saving rebound. That could have been MY chance to shine. Heck, we’ve all dropped the ball before. We’ve probably wasted countless job hours surfing the web for free or filling out a popularity quiz on Facebook. Can’t Dwight miss a free throw every once in a while?

But this question brings me to my next point. Even if Kobe didn’t go on to win the NBA Finals this year, I would still regard Kobe as one of the best ever. Period. Here’s my chief concern with Kobe. He's never allowed us into his personal space. No, I’m not asking Kobe to set up a Twitter account so that I can track the amount of times he gets Peapod to deliver canned meats to his house. I don’t need to hear public relations stories about his excursions to soccer practice or listen to his Michael Jackson a cappella performances with his children. Kobe deserves his privacy, and I intend to leave him be.

However, I’ve always seen Kobe’s career as an elaborate ruse. Simply put, he’s always maintained his façade, never allowing his innermost feelings to enter the public domain. Kobe shows us what he wants to show us…doing so in the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions.

Let’s be clear: He’s not the first athlete who’s ever tried to pull the wool over our eyes. Magic did, smiling his way into our hearts long before allegations of extramarital affairs crept into our bylines. Michael did, giving us a show on the court while fighting to exorcise those demons of anger, infidelity and gambling that continue to infect his life. Tiger does, feeding us discouraging rhetoric while excelling in a sport that offers multiple championships sans physical contact. And Kobe now does, painting a watercolor of his wonderful life and career…even if that picture fails to reveal an honest story.

Yes, part of that is our fault. We eviscerated him after the Colorado mess because he edited our storybook ending, so to speak. Kobe was the man of our dreams, the guy that fit the generic superhero role that we’d come to expect from mere mortals following His Airness. Kobe was the single face to emerge unscathed following the “Next Jordan” movement, a divisive time that effectively swallowed up the careers of guys like the venerable Harold Miner. Kobe had proven himself a winner, a master craftsman, a tailor worthy of hire. But then, he became real. Too real, in fact, for our puritan ears to handle. His extracurricular exploits expedited his sentencing in the court of public opinion well before our hero stood proper trial. (He was found not guilty, by the way.)
Following the trial, his bitter divorce from that precocious partner (Shaq) and subsequent switch to 24, Kobe emerged without spot or wrinkle, or so he thought. In this age of digital media and convergence, we are allowed access to spaces once deemed irrelevant. Kobe, we need to see your true reaction to pressure, your true smile, your true disappointing face. We need to see your humanity.

MJ and Tiger are cool with blocking their humanity from us. But now, I can only remember Jordan as a BRAND. Michael Jordan IS the fist pump, the tongue wag, the Jays, the cologne, the movies…no more, no less. In reality, MJ is human. He doesn't have good relationships with any of his former teammates, he's recently divorced, and he's a rabid gambler. Unfortunately, he chose to become un-human, to become a brand...but people can no longer connect with who he is. Again, as the Bible says, "all those things (rings, money, brass) pass away." We only see a dark reflection of M.J., but he's just as lost and confused as any basketball player who once reigned supreme.

Kobe is a carbon copy of '96 Jordan, the Jordan that recoiled into his shell following the death of his Father and his foray into amateur baseball. The Jordan that no longer cared about public perception, that blacked out his youth from his memory. That's nothing that we should be proud of, or attempt to emulate. As fans, we are now starting to realize this (thanks to the economy, Obama, etc.) and are beginning to once again embrace distinct quality over monetary quantity. However, as the lynch pin between these two eras, Kobe has already chosen his path.

Yeah, we'll remember that Kobe Bryant was "The Black Mamba", the "Closer" before Kyra Sedgwick, the 2009 Finals MVP, a legend among mere mortals. However, because of the change that has occurred in our world, the historical perspective on Kobe Bryant will always come attached with jeers and respite.

Why? Because Kobe chose to embrace a defective archetype (the '96 Jordan)...and dismissed those unique characteristics to speak to his individual humanity.

Kobe is who we've created him to be, but we can't stand it. Alas, this is what he’s become.

Mike Benjamin, II

The Bucket List!

Have you ever been around someone who's reasonably funny...but tries to be hilarious?

It's a dreadful sight. Really, it reminds me of Bill Bellamy's standup comedy career. You know...great in select spots but not terribly enthralling otherwise. Bill's the type of comedian that will entertain you up until the commercial break, but one that you probably won't come back to after flipping to that new Randy Jackson dance show that's all the rage with the tweens. Bill Bellamy's career's like a movie that gets released in select cities. The producers basically need to host a trial run before they pony up for the full project.

In short, Bill Bellamy's a Made-for-TV kind of talent. He's perfect for MTV, but not NBC. He's great for the voice of Cousin Skeeter, but not for Getting Played. He's where Carson Daly's career should've been about four years ago.

And that's kind of how my writing comes off after a long hiatus. Funny enough for you to read before class, not funny enough to hold up your Saturday afternoon plans. Funny enough for you to publicly acknowledge me on the supermarket checkout line, but not funny enough for you to yell "Mike, you are SOOOOO funny!!!!!!" from the other side of Howard's Yard.

Trust me, I've been working at curtailing the horrendous. Literally, it took me about forty-five minutes to write those first four paragraphs. I even edited out a Bill Bellamy rant that I thought would go over well but just read terribly. Why? I'm rusty.

I'm embarrassed right now. I feel like Space Ace...once he turns into Dexter. Or, Space Ghost; without his armbands. Or worse yet, like Daniel Ewing when he's asked to guard Kobe on the wing without any help defense. Yikes.

In today's world, it's tough to be a respectable writer. For every Toni Morrison book that strikes the New York Times' list, there's another thirty titles released in "street lit". How can the Internet-age writer engage this ever-changing audience? How do we keep our writing from ending up in Craig Ferguson's opening monologue? How do we keep you, the reader, remotely caring about writing that's trapped in this terrible Facebook font? We can't just sit back and hyperlink to funny asides all day. You might not come back.

As Americans, we don't even have the patience anymore to sit down and hold a five-minute conversation with someone about something that doesn't involve us, let alone read a newspaper that screams "Old" as soon as we grab it off the newsstand. Heck, the classic "What's black and white and red all over?" joke won't even have the same comedic effect in ten years.

So, should I stop writing? Nah, it's just way too enjoyable for me. There's nothing better than seeing a well-timed "Zing!" in print that makes you giggle uncontrollably for twenty seconds. I am a writer, and as a writer, I must write. And yes, that IS the worst sentence you've even seen me construct in my four year history. I chalk that one up to the rust.

On the other hand, the end of my college career is quickly approaching. They don't know it yet, but I plan on submitting like three articles for the Hilltop's sports section before they shut operations down for the year. As my boy Ray Bignall would say, it's officially time to do the most. Ladies and gentlemen, it's been a great four years at Howard...and I want to end college on a high note.

I definitely made the right decision to come here.

Because I want to hang with as many of you as possible, I've decided to devise a BUCKET LIST! Yup, just like the movie, these are the things that NEED to take place before I die graduate. Feel free to add to this initial list in the comments.

- A Spring Thing 2009
- Play a game of pick-up football with friends
- Play two games of pick-up basketball with friends
- Check out some of the Smithsonian museums (preferably, African Art and Air & Space)
- Have a Video Game Tourney/Day (Halo, Street Fighter IV, Nintendo, NBA 2K9, whatever)
- One breakfast and one lunch/dinner in the Blackburn Cafe (like frosh year)
- Visit Adams Morgan Zoo
- See a Nationals' Game at new ballpark
- Capitals' playoff game
- Wizards' playoff game (just kidding, HAHAHAHA)
- McCormick and Schmidt's (cheap Tues/Thurs meal)
- Chill out day/night on the Yard (on bleachers like frosh year)
- Watch a playoff basketball game at the ESPNZONE
- Do a movie night/game night scenario

- Go one-on-one against J-Till in basketball, even if I end up getting owned
- Have a RockBand 2 "Battle of the Bands" somewhere

- Spades...period.

- Visit Wheaton Mall for the first time
- Get an ice cream cone from Maggie Moo's
- Record me dunking a basketball in HU's gym
- See X-Men Origins: Wolverine (May 1st)

So, if you want to be down, you can be down. Let me know your availability, some possible dates/times for doing this stuff, and your own suggestions!

I look forward to seeing YOU...at Graduation Celebration 2009!

Adios.

The Monster Mash - The Madness Continues (Part 2)

Editor's Note: Because both of these teams decided to hang around for another round of the NCAA Tourney, let's run with J-Till's second contribution to the Monster Mash before this post becomes irrelevant. I was trying to wait up for the other contributions (you know who you are), but I can't chance either one of these teams going down in the meantime. Remember to check our Tillman's stylings at Fundamentally UnSound. It's all yours, Tillman-san...

Oh YEAH. Sorry to interrupt, but my Final Four picks are as such: Louisville, Memphis, Xavier, and Gonzaga. If you have a problem with that, COME SEE ME IN THE COMMENTS! Also, did anyone from Morgan State even bother to read my post about them from Monday? Geez. Todd Bozeman's guy almost killed a guy.

That's the last time the MEAC gets a #15 seed for a WHILE. At least it got the MEAC some negative press without Joseph Okoh's name in the byline. Yikes.

(I'm going to stop rambling now. Promise. J-Till, back to you...)

Zig-Zag-Zig

When I first started watching basketball with an analytical mind, it was around the time that Lute Olsen had the University of Arizona atop the college basketball mountain. I was particularly influenced by Jason Terry, because he is the influence behind me wearing the high socks and he has the same first and last initials…just like me. Today, he's still one of my favorite players to watch. I only give you that brief moment of nostalgia because looking back on me at that time; I understand now why I enjoyed watching them. To me, if there's one flaw in the spirit of college hoops is that it's so focused on making the coaches the stars. Instead of giving praise to the individual and the true ideal that players make coaches (see: Gillespie, Billy), they favor the false understanding that coaching is paramount. Arizona is one of the few schools that actually lets players be themselves and adjusts accordingly; instead of putting them in a box for the "greater good." It's the reason why they've churned out so many NBA and overseas players over the past decade or so; while other programs have enjoyed similar or greater success, yet have their best players be scrubs in the Association. Let me stop and take a rest break before this becomes a full-on rant about Coach K. Enjoy a random picture while I go calm down…

Okay, where was I? Oh, right. This year's U of A Wildcats. Sure, they underachieved for a good part of the season and down the stretch. And yeah, teams like Saint Mary's and Penn State have legit arguments about why they should be in over them. But if you look at it closely, you'll see that Arizona's better than both of those teams and have one of the ten most talented teams in the country. Chase Budinger has been a lottery pick at forward since he was a freshman, and big man Jordan Hill will go very high in next year's draft. Guard Nic Wise has filled in nicely at the point for a team that lost lottery pick Jerryd Bayless; and that #1 high school recruit Brandon Jennings jettisoned for the quick paycheck in Italy. The 'Cats underachieved so much that they squeaked in the tournament as a #12 seed, and have a first-round matchup against Utah (I see what you did there, NCAA Selection Committee). I look for Arizona to make a little ruckus and further destroy brackets around the globe.

On a lesser, still not-so-heralded plane, Mark Few has built a very sturdy program at Gonzaga. He has taken Lute Olsen's methodologies and tweaked them to get the higher-caliber West Cost players that the big schools (and certain coaches) pass upon. For example, I bet plenty of teams would love to have Stephen Gray and Austin Daye, 6'5" and 6'10" athletic scoring machines, respectively. They're like shorter and taller versions of Adam Morrison, only with more ability and less horrendous moustache. But the beauty of the 'Zags is that they don't have one guy with the ability to take over a game: they have five. Moving guard Matt Bouldin to the point has steadied the previously erratic Bulldogs' offense, and it allows Jeremy Pargo do the things that show that he's vastly better than his brother. Center Josh Heytvelt has his head on straight now, and with the addition of Kansas transfer and former HS All-American Micah Downs, and that's a starting five with tremendous size and length at their respective positions, coupled with outstanding shooting and scoring ability. Mark Few plays the uptempo style that gives his players the free reign to be themselves, and look to outscore their opponents at a frenetic pace.

Gonzaga, like Pitt, has been one of those teams that build bandwagon and true fans up to break them down with early tournament exits. If there's one hindrance to them is that they're not a physical as some of the elite teams and wouldn't stand up to 40 minutes of high-level defensive pressure. Plus, with all that talent they have, they were placed in the region with the team with the most talent, the team with the best player in the nation, and the team with all the momentum as higher seeds. A possible Sweet 16 duel with UNC is over the weekend's horizon, and that will probably be one the tourney's most entertaining games. This is where I see Gonzaga bowing out, but it won't be do to anything they could've avoided. It'll just be because North Carolina is better than them—their kindred spirit on the East Coast. The Tar Heels are like a sensei that has mastered the art of the uptempo game and teaching his pupil the Way of the Samurai, and the 'Zags haven't quite harnessed their full potential.

Peace.

“Mo’ Better Hoops”: M.J.’s Epic Transcendence of the Game

By all accounts, Michael Jeffrey Jordan is the greatest basketball player of all time.

I’d like to pretend that depicting Michael Jordan in the context of this series was a cinch. I’d like to believe that I’ve imbedded enough hyperlinks for my reader to understand and embrace the grandeur of the game’s greatest ambassador. I’d like to declare my ability to instantly summarize the impact of “His Airness” in this brief affidavit to the rooftops of my dorm at Howard University. However, that proclamation would be a bold-faced lie.

Truth be told, I’ve been tinkering with this portion of my “form/function” theory since its inception. I wondered aloud, seeking to figure out a correct way to illustrate Jordan in the scope of my work. How could I capture M.J.’s excellence, mastery, and artistry in a way that would bring further understanding to the basketball cavalcade? After much deliberation, I realized that answering this question in fullness is moot. To me, deconstructing Michael Jordan is as daunting a task as summarizing the Black Arts Movement in a paragraph, defining John Coltrane for an encyclopedia, or making meaning of Rakim’s lyrical content for a Time Magazine editorial. I apologize in advance for failing to fully illustrate the significance of Michael Jordan.

But as my dad once told me, the best way to devour an entire salami is by eating it one slice at a time. The only way for basketball intellectuals to gain some semblance of understanding in regards to Michael Jordan’s career is through continuous discourse. A writer, no matter how gifted, will possess all the answers. I invite everyone to join me in this rhythmic dance, to add your opinion to existing rhetoric. Lastly, before I begin analyzing M.J.’s game, I submit that the intricate events of our superstar’s life are not all coincidental. I assert that God had a plan for Michael Jordan’s life – like He does for every single life on the planet – and that the amazing correlations that I will make within this discussion echo this belief. Even the best theorists and thinkers of our day would agree that not all ideas can be explained with the parameters of intellectual discourse. Greatness is an idea that’s impossible to explain.

Michael Jordan was an individual birthed into a family of innovators. Michael’s mother, Deloris, worked in the banking industry and his father, James, was an equipment supervisor, allowing the Jordan family to embrace black middle-class status. While still a toddler, Michael’s parents decided to leave their Brooklyn residence and migrate southward to the state of North Carolina, beginning a trend that exists to this day. Currently, African-Americans make up nearly a quarter of North Carolina's population with the number of middle-class blacks increasing exponentially since the 1970s (Wikipedia).

Before we move on, it is of interest to note that young Michael was born in Brooklyn, NY – a dynamic metropolis of Africana basketball culture. Here, basketball was played in a way that emphasized the aesthetic qualities of the game, a free-flowing exhibition that reflected the Africana elements of black life in New York. James Jordan lived in this vibrant setting for a number of years, and undoubtedly passed some of Brooklyn’s cultural elements on to his young sons, Larry and Michael, after their move to North Carolina.

Though Michael Jordan was born in the concrete jungle of New York, he was bred in the plains of North Carolina. According to the NBA.com encyclopedia, Jordan shared an intimate bond with his father, with baseball being the first love of both men. Young Michael only began playing basketball due to his idolization of his older brother Larry, “a spectacular athlete in his own right,” who cultivated young Michael’s competitive desire (NBA.com). Simply put, he wanted to defeat his older brother.

In high school, Jordan attempted to transfer his game to his varsity team, but was considered too short to play for the squad (only 5’11’’ by his sophomore year). This setback unintentionally allowed Michael Jordan to begin honing the elements of his distinct game – a process that would continue on every level of his amateur and professional athletic career. Jordan played in an era before AAU programs and sponsorships, a damning product of today’s amateur athletics that stifles the aesthetic growth of children and teenagers during the very important formative years (a concept that I will discuss later on in the series). Jordan spent his sophomore summer practicing, embracing the multiplicity of his game, and beginning to strike the balance between the Africana qualities inherent in form with the functional tenets of basketball. Jordan’s early tinkering with this fusion of form and function is important to analyze in the context of Jordan’s game. Jordan’s synthesis of both basketball elements within the parameters of his game allowed him to garner measurable success on every level (NCAA and NBA championships) without compromising his game’s expressive qualities inherent in Africana. However, because Jordan would be the first player birthed from this “form/function” fusion, practice and repetition would be vital towards gaining a mastery of this intricate basketball concept.

Michael Jordan returned from his sophomore summer an entirely new basketball player. God blessed the teenager with another four inches of height (pushing M.J. to 6’3”) giving Jordan access to the varsity squad at Laney High School. The rest of his high school career is an exercise in recounting history. Michael averaged a triple-double in his senior season, gained recognition by earning a place on the prestigious McDonald’s All-American Team and was selected by the legendary coach Dean Smith to play at one of basketball’s collegiate powerhouses – The University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.

As a freshman at Howard University, I used to chill and debate sports with three good brothers from Raleigh, North Carolina – Brenden, Ellis, and James. To me, these three gents possessed a cognitive dissonance when it came to North Carolina’s basketball programs, loving one team (UNC) while hating another (Duke), a concept that I didn't fully understand. Brenden Whitted, our resident UNC basketball expert, used to always say (and I quote), “Duke will get guys drafted, but UNC creates superstars.” But why is that the case? I believe to properly analyze the greatness of UNC basketball is to begin with a case study of Dean Smith. While Coach Mike Krzyzewski and other select coaches recruited players to add to their collective legacies, Coach Dean focused initially on cultivating talent inherently present in certain individuals. Coach Dean wanted to make his basketball program a favorite for prospects seeking to evolve their games. Heck, Dean Smith was probably a secret connoisseur of Africana. Smith fought for desegregation in athletics – recruiting UNC’s first black scholarship athlete – and for equal treatment of African-Americans by local Carolina businesses. Smith adapted his style from the legendary black basketball coach John McLendon, a fellow KU alum who created the now-famous fast break offense as well as the four corners technique (which later forced the NCAA to adapt the shot clock to minimize ball control). Dean Smith understood the importance of growing free-flow talent better than any basketball coach, and realized that teaching his students to harness that talent would invariably lead to collegiate success.

To further acknowledge this point, let’s quickly compare Michael Jordan’s basketball career to that of Duke’s Johnny Dawkins. During the 1980s, one could successfully argue that Dawkins was the better player. Dawkins held the record for points scored in a career (until J.J. Redick broke it in 2006), and lead the Blue Devils to the national championship game of 1986 on the coattails of a 37-3 record. However, Dawkins became the first of many talented Africana players to have his exceptional talents marginalized for the betterment of university success. Simply put, Coach K stunted Dawkins’ basketball growth and crushed his inherent free-flow aesthetic in favor of critical acclaim for Duke’s college basketball program. Dawkins went on to become a very marginal NBA player, playing for the Spurs, Pistons, and 76ers before eventually retiring and returning to Duke as one of Coach K’s assistant basketball coaches. Arguably, Coach K is one of the first basketball coaches to siphon basketball talent in order to bolster his personal attributes – also known as the abuse of black bodies for personal gain. To any student of Africana peoples, this damning idea is one that should be easily recognizable in the context of black history.

Either knowingly or unknowingly, Michael Jordan’s alignment with UNC showed a recognition of Coach Dean’s philosophy. While the young teen may have chosen to attend the college based on its proximity to his hometown or any number of extenuating factors, his choice to attend UNC was a major factor that gave him greater leverage to master the delicate balance between free-flow and functional basketball. Fortunately for basketball fans, Jordan made the correct choice.

When Jordan arrived at UNC, he initially played second fiddle to two talented upperclassmen – James Worthy and Sam Perkins. While this slight is often seen by basketball critics as damning to Jordan’s career, this allowed young Jordan’s game to mature at a healthy rate and further master this “controlled chaotic” style of basketball, a fusion that would catapult Michael Jordan to the height of the basketball world.

(Side Note: In this thesis, the idea of “controlled chaos” is the product of a fused “form/function” basketball aesthetic. My definition of controlled chaos is the result that occurs when a basketball player has completely mastered the attributes of form and function, and can use these qualities at their discretion at a moment’s notice. Jordan was the prototypical engineer of this unique basketball quality, a quality that would take “His Airness” years of discipline and practice to fully master.)

However, some of the features of a “controlled chaos” aesthetic cannot merely be practiced…they must be performed on the biggest of stages. As I mentioned in Part 3, one such immeasurable attribute is the idea of “clutchness”. In addition, the ability to be clutch cannot be taught. An athlete either has the flair for the dramatic or will exist simply as a consummate professional or statistical sensation. (Hence, the existence of guys like “Big Shot” Robert Horry, Larry Bird, and Chauncey Billups.) By allowing Michael Jordan to take the winning shot against the Ewing-led Georgetown Hoyas over his upperclassmen, Dean Smith was testing the young champion’s ability to access this unknown part of a basketball player’s aesthetic, one that only a select few individuals have possessed in the history of the game. In Roland Lazenby’s article “Michaelangelo: Portrait of a Champion”, Jordan states that this shot was a turning point in his basketball career. I agree, and add that by making this championship-winning shot as a freshman, Jordan added a lethal weapon to his already diverse arsenal. The foundation for basketball transcendence had officially been laid.

In 1984, Michael Jordan was drafted third by the struggling Chicago Bulls. While most sports pundits laugh at the fact that two teams passed on the greatest basketball player ever, I can’t be totally angry with their assessment at the time. Jordan was a swingman, a position that still hadn’t been seen by league intellectuals as one that could lead to championship success. With the first pick, the Houston Rockets selected center Hakeem Olajuwon, a member of the famous “Phi Slamma Jamma” fraternity at the nearby University of Houston, and a guy who won championships and became a great player in his own right (arguably, the best center of the 1990’s). The Portland Trailblazers selected oft-injured forward Sam Bowie because they had already taken superstar guard Clyde Drexler in the former year’s draft and had a wealth of swingmen already on their roster (Jerome Kersey, Kiki Vandeweghe, among others). The door was wide open for the Chicago franchise, and they seized the opportunity.

Upon arrival, Jordan immediately dominated the league and was voted to the All-Star game by fans in his rookie season. However, veteran players became jealous of Jordan’s rapid ascension, allegedly leading to a “freeze-out” during the first All-Star game with players refusing to pass Michael Jordan the ball. However, Jordan shrugged off the existing tension, continuing to dominate and later winning the Rookie of the Year award with ease. Jordan’s training under Coach Smith at UNC was finally beginning to pay off.

However, roadblocks were beginning to materialize. Critics argued that Jordan lacked a consistent jumper, and couldn’t make his players better. But a more glaring light shone in the form of the Detroit Pistons, who sought to limit Jordan’s effectiveness through their implementation of the “Jordan Rules”. The “Jordan Rules” was a defensive strategy where the opposition would hound Michael Jordan with two or three defenders in order to wear him down and limit his effectiveness. Basically, the Pistons were daring the other Bulls to beat them. Unfortunately, because the other Chicago players weren’t able to create their own shot, the defense was impenetrable.

After three straight losing trips to the Eastern Conference Finals, the Bulls fired coach Doug Collins and replaced him with Phil Jackson, a relative unknown on the New York Knicks’ 1970’s championship teams and an amateur in regards to coaching. However, it was through Jackson’s unconventional coaching style that Jordan’s Bulls were finally able to surpass the Pistons for Eastern Conference supremacy. Phil Jackson adopted the “triangle offense”, a system devised by Tex Winter to maximize the efficiency of all players on the court. The offense provided easy opportunities for players to score while dually allowing Jordan to take charge when necessary.

As they say, the rest is history. The Bulls overcame their archrival Pistons and went on to “three-peat” as NBA champions prior to Jordan’s retirement in 1994. When M.J. returned after this basketball sabbatical, the Bulls picked up where they left off, winning a record-setting 70 games in the 1996-1997 season. After finishing the second “three-peat” with his signature jumper over Utah’s Brian Russell, M.J.’s transcendence was complete. Jordan had finally mastered the fusion of form and function in his game, allowing our hero to exhibit this “controlled chaos” at his convenience. His team was simply “Unbeata-Bull”, and Michael had cemented his legacy as the greatest player to ever play the game of basketball.

After Jordan’s second retirement, a question still remained unanswered. How would the basketball world respond to Jordan’s decade of domination? A new generation of prodigies used “His Airness” as their basketball template. The ripples of the Jordan decade were set to disseminate, and today’s basketball world exists as a reaction to the post-Jordan era.

Welcome to the exciting modern world of basketball.

Mike Benjamin, II

"Mo' Better Hoops": Magic, Larry, and the "Form/Function Debate" (Part 3)

(If you haven't read PART 1 or PART 2 as of this post, you should go back in order to get more clarity on this theory's origins. Thanks.)

Earvin “Magic” Johnson was a basketball player that embraced Africana “form” in basketball, and exists as the purest “formal” basketball player in the NBA’s storied history.

Magic, like my father, was born in 1959, a tumultuous year in our world’s history. Field Castro had just usurped power from Batista to begin his socialist regime in Cuba, A Raisin in the Sun premiered on Broadway, and a young Magic was born into a large, working-class family from the streets of Michigan. Johnson’s father was a factory man for General Motors and his mother was a school custodian. Magic was the sixth of ten children, and often sang on the street corners with his boys. However, it was clear to his neighbors and friends from the outset that Magic developed his persona through a genuine love of the game of basketball.

Just like my father, one of Magic’s favorite players was Earl “the Pearl” Monroe. The kid they called "Junior" or "June Bug" could be seen on neighborhood courts as early as 7:30am on many mornings. In an interview with USA Weekend, Magic famously quoted that "I dribbled to the store with my right hand and back with my left. Then I slept with my basketball." Young Earvin’s passion for basketball superseded a love shown by most kids, which propelled Earvin to unimagined success on every level of rigorous competition.

A Lansing sportswriter gave the nickname of “Magic” to Earvin after watching one of his tremendous high school games where he saw the prep star notch 36 points, snag 16 rebounds, and dish 16 assists. At first, the nickname went against the wishes of his mother, who was a devout Christian and believed it to be blasphemous. However, the “Magic” moniker stuck, and further endears fans to Earvin "Magic" Johnson to this day.

Like any top-notch basketball magician, Magic was heavily recruited by an abundance of coaches and scouts for the top collegiate basketball programs in the nation. Interestingly, Magic chose to attend his hometown school of Michigan State over the UCLA Bruins and Bob Knight’s Indiana Hoosiers because coach Jud Heathcote promised to allow the 6’ 9’’ Magic (a prototypical height for a forward) to play the point guard position. Even in this early career choice, we see that Magic refused to confine his “formal” skills to the prescribed template for college basketball success. Often, collegiate coaches stifle the growth and free-flow expression of young athletes because of their insatiable appetite for temporary victory. (I will come back to this concept later on in my series).

Because of his fortuitous decision, Magic was able to blossom into a superior “formal” player – becoming the best point guard of all-time.

However, while Magic excelled as this purely “formal” player, functionality still existed as the premier teaching strategy in basketball. And as I mentioned in Part 1, no region of America was more heavily based in this “functional” approach to hoops than the great Midwestern plain of Indiana.

However, another great player emerged out of this functional abyss – Larry Joe Bird. Bird was born in West Baden, Indiana, a town that demographically remains staunchly White to this day (94% in the 2000 US Census). I make this statement not to criticize West Baden from their lack of diversity (after all, American is still 65-70% White), but rather to illustrate the fact that Larry Bird was birthed into a town devoid of features found in Africana traditions and meaning-making. Simply put, “The Hick from French Lick” learned basketball in an environment conducive to “functional” basketball training.

Similar to Magic Johnson, Larry Bird also had a tough upbringing. The Bird family was poverty-stricken, and Bird’s parents were often forced to make tough choices. In a 1988 interview with Sports Illustrated, Bird mentioned that “if there was a payment to the bank due, and we needed shoes, she'd get the shoes, and then deal with them guys at the bank. I don't mean she wouldn't pay the bank, but the children always came first.” While his adoring fans may have called him the “Great White Hope”, a player constructed to dominate individual of other races, Bird never saw himself as a basketball imperialist. Bird was a timid, country guy who was simply a savant of the hardwood.

However, Larry Bird did have one distinct characteristic that set him apart from his functional companions: “Basketball Jesus" was incredibly clutch. While the clutch attribute remains an immeasurable attribute to categorize (along with being “in the zone”), there was no question among basketball fanatics of Larry Bird’s ability to come through at the most opportune times.

Unlike Magic, Larry received an athletic scholarship to Indiana University. However, upon attending Indiana, Bird was harassed by current Hoosier star Kent Benson. After a tough semester, Bird decided to drop out and return home. Bird spent the next year working for the Street Department and playing AAU basketball. His game caught the attention of Indiana State, who invited Bird to attend the school.

Meanwhile, Magic Johnson was tearing through the collegiate ranks. After his freshman year, Magic was named among the top ten returning sophomores by Sports Illustrated, and went on to average 17 points, 7.6 rebounds, and 7.1 assists during his collegiate career. During his final season, Michigan State raced to the NCAA Championship game. Similarly, Larry Bird’s Indiana State squad dominated their side of the tournament bracket, setting up an epic matchup between the two titans of amateur basketball – Larry Bird and Magic Johnson. In a game that still holds the record for television viewership, Magic’s Spartans defeated Bird’s Sycamores 75-64. Johnson was designated as the tournament’s Most Outstanding Player and drafted first overall by the Los Angeles Lakers. Bird, already drafted a year prior by visionary Red Auerbach, joined a powerhouse Celtic franchise in the East.

And the NBA’s greatest rivalry was born.

While Bird and Magic would battle for years in the NBA, with Magic grabbing five titles to Bird’s three, a more important battle ensued in the basketball undertow. Magic’s arrival and success on the big stage invariably shook the “functional” foundation of basketball, leading to a rigorous debate between “form” and “function”. The debate raged throughout the 1980’s, with tensions rising and falling with each Laker/Celtic championship battle.

The argument saved the league from extinction, but the debate was never fully resolved until one exceptional player graced the league stage in 1985. This man showed the basketball world that the answer to the “form/function” debate was not predicated on a choice of one theory or the other, but rather a fusion of both basketball elements. When Magic famously said that "there would never, ever, ever be another Larry Bird" at the Celtic forward's retirement, he was right. Because of this next man, "functional" basketball would never again exist in its purest state in the National Basketball Association.

Enter Michael Jeffrey Jordan.

Michael A. Benjamin II

"Mo' Better Hoops": Examining "Form" Theory's Origins in Africana

[Before we get started, there's some housekeeping to attend to:

First, for all of you American football and tennis fanatics, here's my Monday column that was published in the Hilltop, Howard's daily black newspaper. Secondly, my friend and fellow black scholar Obehi Utubor is directing a stage production of Toni Morrison's classic novel, "The Bluest Eye", at Georgetown University. Check out the Facebook "event" or access GU's Fine Arts website directly for more information, and I hope to see you there! Lastly, have you been introduced to Dr. Dunkenstein? Enjoy.

IS THERE ANYBODY ALIVE OUT THERE? I hope so, because here comes Part 2! (I love it when "the Boss" yells on stage...)]

(Oh yeah, if you haven't read Part 1 yet...just stop, about face, and READ THAT FIRST. Trust me, you won't fully understanding this "note" if you don't...)

Before the 1980s – the decade that changed basketball – the “form” and “function” arguments in basketball dominated common sport discourse and symbolized the glaring differences between blacks and whites in American society. Organized basketball in the NBA and ABA gave blacks and whites heroes to emulate and admire.

(Side Note: I believe that early black players such as Bill Russell and Wilt Chamberlain served as “integration” players for the black population. In other words, these two players showed white audiences that blacks could, in fact, have success in basketball on any level and afforded them access on the traditional organized level (NBA, ABA). While they did have "form" characteristics to their game, Wilt and Bill laid the foundation for later players like Earl Monroe and Walt “Clyde” Frazier to exist as purely “form” players without repercussions from the controlling organization (NBA). But, it's just a theory, which may need to be tweaked. I invite anyone to discourse with me on the topic.

Michael Alphonso Benjamin, Sr. is a man that goes by a lot of titles – minister, professor, deacon, songwriter, co-worker, son, and most importantly (to me), father. However, few people know this one of many impressive designations to my father’s personal resume – college basketball player. My dad is a man that learned and played basketball amidst social and political change that enveloped New York City in the 1970s, and parlayed his God-given talents into success, a success that provided him an opportunity to experience basketball on the collegiate level. Whenever any research theory is hypothesized, any ardent scholar would agree that the best source of information to back up one’s assertion always comes from a primary source, a person who lived and experienced the full breadth and scope of one’s idea.

And to me, there is no better primary source of knowledge than my dad.

“Well, that Earl ‘the Pearl’ Monroe – he was pretty good,” my dad said to me over the phone. “Monroe had an array of moves that left you speechless and seemed to always be whirling and twirling.” I asked my dad about other players that he admired during his teenage years, and he responded with a litany of talented players. “I enjoyed watching Oscar Robertson, of course,” pausing for a moment then continuing, “then you’ve gotta go with Walt ‘Clyde’ Frazier, Dick Barnett, ‘Pistol’ Pete [Maravich], Wes Unseld, and the mighty Lew Alcindor from the Bronx!”. At that moment, I imagined my dad smiling through the receiver, grinning as he replayed each moment in his memory bank. But, I was confused. Why Dick Barnett?

“Well, [Dick] Barnett had this funky delivery to his jump shot,” my dad continued. “Barnett would kick his legs up, then follow through with his release. It was just – interesting.” Then, I asked about Alcindor, Frazier, and Maravich. “Lew – I mean, you know him as Kareem Abdul-Jabbar – was exceptional with that sky hook. It was just unstoppable. I liked Frazier because of his style. Frazier was a cool, smooth guy in real life, and it carried over to his game on the court. Frazier was quick and controlled. And you know, 'Pistol' Pete. He was just so inventive with the basketball.”

After talking with my dad, I realized that the creative, free-flow, “form” idea of basketball is a concept that doesn’t just apply to black people. Even white players exhibited some notions of “form” basketball in their play (like Dick Barnett’s “funky” release to his jumper) and were also innovators that influenced the evolution of the sport’s “aesthetic qualities”. Echoing my father, I believe that ‘Pistol’ Pete Maravich was an atypical white player who fully embraced the characteristics of “form” basketball, immersed himself in the style, and made it a defining aspect of his game. “Pistol” Pete’s style and unmitigated love of the game was a style that dually endeared him to white and black people during his professional playing days.

However, while I agree that the “form” concept can be embraced by all basketball aficionados regardless of color or creed, I argue that the “form” characteristics of basketball are rooted in the traditions of Black Americans – a tradition that can be traced back to the African aesthetic.

Robert Farris Thompson, in his book African Art and Motion, talks about the idea of African “form” and artistic aesthetical expression by looking at traditional dance. He met with seventy (70) traditional experts on African dance and said that this group “discussed [African dance] style with saliency, voicing comments about [the importance of] timing, finish, dress, thematic balance without hesitation”. Thompson talked about the specificity of the Yoruba evaluation process in regards to dance, but pointed out that the Yoruba “were never so technical as to destroy the flavor of the motion as a work of art”. Thompson concluded that Africans contains a sense of “artistic cultural solidarity”, and that his research showed that respondents “talked about the beauty of the dance” in terms of this Africanness. African art stems on the idea of “vital aliveness” and carries over to a variety of different expressive forms.

In America, this “aliveness” in form was seen in slavery's songs, the black church, and later on in “swing music”, which is roughly defined by theorist Gunther Schuller as music that “maintains an equilibrium between melodic and rhythmic relationships”. In African (Black) music, pitch cannot exist without strong rhythm. All musical accents are played with equal strength, creating this “youthful drive”. Thompson says that most of Western musical theorists are annoyed by the “loudness” that accompanies African music, but argues that “this is precisely the point.” That’s why jazz and Jimi Hendrix’s early heavy metal is played at such high levels. Loudness accentuates the normally low-played notes by Western tradition and adds the necessary rhythm and equality typified in African art.

Of course, this “aliveness” in African form and “vividness in equilibrium” carries over to the basketball court, with artistic expression key to the transformation of game play. “Aliveness” in young people is praised by Africans, who see it as representative of “fine form.”

Hmm, doesn’t this sound familiar?

The “smoothness” that my dad saw in Walt “Clyde” Frazier comes from the African idea of “coolness”, a strong intellectual and peaceful attitude combined with humor and play. The inventiveness of a Dick Barnett jump shot or a “Pistol” Pete offensive move reminds one of the African idea of “personal and representational balance.” The use of African “flexibility” is even seen in Kareem’s development and execution of the “unstoppable” sky hook (and led him to a role in Bruce Lee's "Game of Death").

Africana “aliveness” has transformed many aspects of American life. The concept and inventiveness found in the African aesthetic transformed the game of basketball, leading to the sport's evolution, and capturing the attention of a talented youth from Lansing, Michigan – Earvin “Magic” Johnson.

(Next, I'll be talking about Magic, Bird, and "form/function" in the 1980's NBA.)
(Again, thanks for the support.)

Michael A. Benjamin, II

"Mo' Better Hoops": Basketball and the African Aesthetic (Part 1)

Before we begin conversing in this P.O.T. blog space this week, I first would like to thank everyone who actually takes the time to read/browse/skim my articles. Last week, I found out from a friend that one of my articles was nominated by the Hilltop staff for the “Best Column of the Year” award given by the various newspaper staffs at HBCUs around the country. When I heard this news, I was absolutely floored, because as a writer, you’re never truly sure if your writing makes sense, if the words weave together like a Shakespearian sonnet, or if you actually inspire/entertain the reading audience. Simply put, getting public recognition from an established college newspaper like the Hilltop was a symbolic but important step in my growing process as a writer. People like me…they really, really like me, I thought.

After my friend told me this information, I felt like I had just ended my first kiss all over again. My mind turned to jambalaya, my head was spinning, and my lips were unable to conceal my enormous grin. So, to every person who has ever scratched their heads after reading one of my many topical jokes, to every person who wondered why I compared Andre Iguodala to Young Gunz, to every person that prayed for me during my travels to Delaware, Mexico, Panama, and Beijing, and to every person who argues my playoff picks to death, I thank you for your support. Last but definitely not least, I thank Jesus Christ for providing me with the inspiration and the skills. You the man, God.

Okay, now that the emotive stuff is out of the way, let’s get to the fun stuff.

Dr. Gregory Carr, professor and instructor of my course entitled “Black Aesthetics” at Howard University, discussed the concept of the “blue note” and its relation to the African (Black) aesthetic. Simply put, the “blue note” is more than just a string of notes and sounds compiled to create enjoyable rock music in America during the 1960s and 1970s. Carr asserts that “blue notes” – or notes played at a lower pitch for expressive quality – are indicative of the full African experience and influence much of Africana (Black) culture, politics, and tradition to this day.

For a contemporary example, we dissected the music of Mary J. Blige. First off, we collectively agreed - for the purposes of this exercise - that Mary J. Blige does not and has never possessed the greatest vocal pipes in the world. Simply put: Mary J. cannot sing. However, Carr argued that if one listens to “Real Love”, "I'm Going Down", or most of Mary J.'s other songs in her discography, an assessment regarding the influence of the African aesthetic can be made. Dr. Carr proceeded to sing “Real Love” a Capella in class, proving by emphasizing the “blue note” structure in the song that Mary J. Blige has perfected (ahem, mastered) the art of hitting the “blue note”. Because of this mastery, fans of her music can relate to her plight, glide along with the rhythm and motion of her songs, and generally block out her relatively mediocre (less than exceptional, anyway) vocals.

I agree with Doc Carr’s sentiment, and argue that the “blue note” phenomenon easily translates over to the formulation of black identity within the context of basketball. “Blue note” or the need to create an Africana identity is an impulse inherent in the minds and hearts of all African peoples and can be channeled into any aspect of society. I had a conversation with my friend Steve, co-host of the sports talk show “Instant Replay” on Mondays from 6-8pm at WHBC 830am with me, and discussed this influence of “blue note” aesthetics – flow, call-and-response, rhythm, etc. - on any players (most specifically, black players) who apply this “form” concept to basketball. I further argue that these black players generally exhibit a poetical mastery of basketball that remains absent from greater American basketball culture.

Check it out.

Before we deconstruct the attributes of basketball found in African cultural traditions, I must first show you, the reader, the two differing viewpoints in regards to basketball theory. In order for you to follow this paper’s line of thought, consider both basketball theory camps as the two different political parties present in the United States, Democrat and Republican. The first camp - Democrats, for the purpose of our example - possesses those purists who believe basketball should exist solely as a creative, free-flowing, untainted exercise in beauty – simply put, “form” or “poetry in motion”. The second camp (Republicans) believe the best brand of basketball to be a game that serves a purpose, a means to an end, a solution to a problem – namely, that basketball exist as “functional”.

Where can the purest expressions of both theories be located? I’m glad you asked.

“Poetry in motion” or “form” basketball can be analyzed in raw form on the playgrounds of tough inner city areas (Brooklyn, Southside Chicago, Harlem, and Lower East Side). Here, the game is played amidst radios blaring and beautiful women, far away from those seeking to poison its beauty with archaic constructions and mundane structures. (Hey, if you need strong movie examples of the blacktop basketball tradition for greater understanding, I’d advice watching “Hoop Dreams” or the first-half of “Glory Road” (when Coach Haskins travels to recruit black dudes on inner-city courts).

“Functional” basketball can be analyzed in its purest form primarily in the Hoosier state of Indiana, a state largely absent of black influences and African cultural meaning-making. Here, basketball was played largely in school gymnasiums due to the excess of farmland, with repetition and “hustle” (a undefined concept that stems from the rural tradition of "hard work" in Middle America) existing as defining characteristics of those individuals considered spectacular by the masses. (Again, for a generic movie example, watch “Hoosiers” with Gene Hackman).

In my next few blog entries, I’ll talk about the history of the struggle between “form” and “function” in basketball - a struggle that in some ways reflects a loose schism between blacks and whites in American society. After that, I’ll examine the lengthy trails left by both basketball theories and trace “form” and “function” theory to subsequent basketball superstars in the present day. In addition, I’ll argue for the need to society to once again embrace the elements of “form” basketball in our youth, elements that are swiftly being ignored because of rising greed found in individuals and corporate entities seeking to make dollars rather than promote artistic expression. Left unchecked, this outlook can be dangerous and stifle the creative genes that lay dormant in our youth, eroding away the artistry that makes basketball a unique and beautiful sport, similar to the traditions of preceding African societies.

By the way, don’t think I’m writing this to ridicule and attack white people. There are white players who exhibit "form" in their play similarly to blacks. There are also many white basketball theorists that embrace “form” theory in the sport. Anyway, just make sure to check out my next P.O.T. post for more understanding. Rest assured, it’ll pack a punch and help you waste even more quality time.

As for the Super Bowl, I’ve got Arizona over Pittsburgh. I have no real reason to pick the Cardinals other than my man crush on Larry Fitzgerald’s skills. So, deal with it.

And, as my man J-Till over at Fundamentally Unsound would say, “Peace”.

Michael A. Benjamin, II