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Swampy Meadows
07-17-2008, 12:14 AM
BEVERLY HILLS (MI) -- As I mentioned in my previous column entitled “On the Road Again” my new job will bring me to Chicago every other week for the foreseeable future. Believe me, I had to monitor the “rooms/temporary” and “sublets” listings on craigslist.com pretty ****ed close for several weeks in order to come up with a living arrangement that met all of my needs:

--affordable

--flexible enuf to handle my every-other-week schedule

--an actual parking space, not street parking

--proximity to METRA trains (my office in the Civic Opera House is right across the river from Oglivie and Union Stations)

--high speed internet

The place I found had all of that, plus a free continental breakfast. I’m staying in the “Elvis Room” at a place called Your Home Chicago. It’s in Rogers Park, not too far from Loyola University. Granted, it ain’t trendy like Lincoln Park where the Elder Swampette lives, but it’ll do just fine.

Anyway, once I punch out at the end of the day I obviously have some time on my hands and so I Googled “pick up hoops + Chicago” to see what my options were. Here is an article I found on that very subject:

http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/59463/top_courts_and_parks_to_play_basketball.html?cat=8

Something told me that Mrs. Swampy wouldn’t like the idea of me hoopin’ with the “hottie moms” in attendance at Wrightwood; Chase Park is close by, but who wants to play ball inside when it’s 80 and sunny outside? So, it came down to Horner Park and Foster Beach and since I won’t be vacationing on the Jersey Shore this year due to family scheduling conflicts, I chose the beach.

The park at Foster Beach was jammin’ with soccer and softball games plus all of the beach goers, which meant I had to park a considerable distance from the lone basketball slab. The article was wrong about the rims –- they weren’t bent, but they sure were tight and took a lot of getting used to. The article was correct about its proximity to the beach and not being crowded: I played a game of 21 with a couple of other guys and when a few more showed up, we played two games of 3-on-3 up to 16.

One thing the article failed to mention was that the court had some kind of a curb built up around the perimeter, which had “ankle buster” written all over it. I couldn’t figure out what its purpose was. That and the fact that if the ball goes towards the bicycle path you have to watch out for bike geeks going 30 MPH. One guy almost met a young lovely -- head on -- in that fashion while retrieving an errant ball.

The game of 21 took forever. The strong breeze coming off the lake had a lot to do with it. Combine that with a crappy ball and the aforementioned tight rims and suddenly you find yourself attending a brick masons convention. Even the 6’2” stud baller who was absolutely ripped airballed at least a dozen shots. I couldn’t hit anything, but finally found my range, only to be nudged out by him at the end 21-19.

We decided to play 3-on-3 and it was me; James, a young quick guard and a big guy from somewhere in Eastern Europe whose cell phone kept ringing (and ****ed if he didn’t keep answering it, right in the middle of the game). The opposition was comprised of the 6’2” stud; another guy a little taller than me and a young, skinny, cocky PG, the kind of kid that throws you a million streetball head fakes, but never actually advances the rock. As you might guess, I just love playing against that kind of kid.

In the first game, we broke out to a 7-0 lead and the other guys were, quite frankly, wondering what the hell hit ‘em. I made a few jumpers in the young PG’s face; the big guy banged for a few hoops and James hit a couple of scoop shots and we were cooking. The stud wasn’t too happy about all of this and tried to take over, but it was too late, as we won going away.

One of their guys left so they picked up a big, soft-lookin’ dude. When they broke out to an early 4-0 lead, the stud started talkin’ trash. I couldn’t keep up with the young PG, so I told James to switch with me and I would lean on the large, soft guy. I felt like Doc Rivers, because my coaching decision worked like a charm: James was quick enuf to contain Kid Flash and I boxed out Mr. Softee so aggressively he said to me “****, you’re boxin’ out all of the time.” The tide really turned when I snapped off a nice pass to Verizon for a layup. It went back and forth but we finally tied it at 13. At game point, I drained a long straight away jumper over the youngster by banking it in. All he could say was “you’re lucky man, that was all luck.”

Yeah, whatever you say, kid.

I’ll be back there again tomorrow night.

Thursday Night

So, on this evening at least, the article lied -- Foster Beach court was totally jammed with young ballers running 5-on-5. I had to wait 3 games before playing, the last 2 of which were won by a team that looked fairly invincible. They featured a shirtless dude who was trying his best to loosen up the tight rims by dunking and then hanging on them; a short, stocky PG who never shot but sure could pass; a young quick guy; a 40-something big man who looked and played like a mini-Bob Lanier and his skinny son.

One of the joys of pick up hoops when it's this crowded is trying to figure out who has 'next.' I had been waiting 3 games and when I proclaimed that I had next, so did a dude from Dallas. We settled the matter by agreeing to join forces and picked up a guy in a "Nowitzness" t-shirt and his buddy, who reminded me of a shorter George Schlomer, for those older Flyer fans who remember the Kentuckian who was all arms and legs. For the final piece of our puzzle, we chose a kid who looked like a young Chris Webber and who I noticed had shot lights-out in one of the previous games.

Nowitzness made a jumper that actually looked like Dirk's and Schlomer made a layup and we were tied at 2. It turns out my man from Dallas couldn't shoot a lick, but he sure could rebound. We then started getting the ball to C-Webb and he didn't disappoint. Lanier dominated the offensive glass, but the young dunker was settling for long jumpers, with mixed results. On D, Dirk and Schlom kept coming up with steals and feeding Webb for easy hoops. I had it pretty easy since my guy, the short stocky PG, had taken a vow of chastity when it came to shooting. Come to think of it, up to that point, so had I.

We managed to tie it up and then Schlom made a steal. As he brought the ball down I yelled 'trailer.' He hit me in stride with a nice bounce pass. I dribbled twice and launched a long jumper that was nothing but bottoms.

Ballgame.

We lost our next game, but it didn't matter -- my night was already made

That’s it “From the Swamp.”
You can email me at: swampy@udpride.com

Swampy Meadows
07-17-2008, 08:17 AM
Reader Tom Hannigan '66 was the first one with the correct answer:

"I believe the curb is for ice in the winter. The court is flooded and becomes a hockey rink."

As I told Tom, I guess it makes sense, but not alot if you're hoopin'.

Chris R
07-17-2008, 12:19 PM
Brilliant article Swamper. Nobody tells it quite like you.

chriscage
07-18-2008, 10:57 AM
Swamp:

Congrats on the new gig!

You passed on a place called "hottie mom park"? Geez, I know you're approaching geezerdom, but you can still drool, can't you?