BEVERLY HILLS (MI) -- Frequently on my trips to various playgrounds in search of some pick-up hoops competition there aren’t enough guys around to run a decent half-court game, let alone five-on-five full-court. In those instances, I will always suggest “hey fellas, let’s run some twenty-one.”
For those of you who haven’t set foot on a basketball court in a while, the game of twenty-one is the hoops equivalent of “every man for himself.” If there are three of us playing and I have the ball, the other two guys have to defend me; if one of them has the ball, then me and the other guy without the rock are on D. The only rule in twenty-one is, quite simply, that there are no rules: no fouls, no OB, no travelling or double dribble calls -- nothin’. You get two points for every shot from the field, then you step to the top of the key (in some places they shoot FTs) and every made basket from there counts as one point. Lots of guys play “three and out” meaning you can only make a maximum of three one-point shots before you have to in-bound the ball and attempt to score another two point basket. First player to twenty-one wins. One benefit to being the guy that makes the first freebie from the three-point line is that it is referred to as “the magic two” and, as the name implies, counts for two points.
One anomaly in twenty-one is that if someone airballs a shot you can go “straight up” with it rather than having to take it back to the three point line like you usually do. Another wrinkle is that if you have twenty and miss shooting the one pointer for the game, you have to go back to fifteen. For that reason, a lot of guys will intentionally miss when they have nineteen, so that all they have to do is make another two-pointer to win and not face the ignominy of bricking a one-pointer with the outcome in the balance.
Surprisingly enuf, despite the lack of rules there is actually some strategy involved in a game of twenty-one. Needless to say, not everyone gives their best effort on defense, but those that do will often be rewarded with steals and loose balls they wouldn’t have gotten otherwise. My favorite trick is chasing a ball that bounces out–of-bounds and the guy going to retrieve it has his back turned -- if you sneak up behind him and grab it before he even knows you are there – voila -- you’ve got yourself another chance to score.
It goes without saying that the key to winning a game of twenty-one is making your freebies. If you can go three-for-three from the top of the key on a consistent basis you theoretically will only need four possessions to win, thanks to “the magic two.” I’ve never “run the table” and scored twenty-one straight points without giving up the ball, but I have gotten to twenty-one before anybody else even got their name in the paper.
It is always a good idea to keep track of not only your score, but that of your opponents as well, because math skills are sometimes lacking (and usually in the other players favor) in the game of twenty-one.
I’ve played twenty-one from Vermont to California and every part of the country seems to have its own regional twist on it. In Philly, they call it “Animal Ball” and for good reason, I might add. In Pittsburgh, they play thirty-three –- same basic game just that twelve more points are required in order to win. That’s too long in my book, but what do I know? Some places play “tips” where if you tip in a missed shot, the guy who took it goes back to zero. That’s just dumb if you ask me. Give me a game of straight-up twenty-one with no BS rules and I’m happy.
I was a bachelor this past week while Mrs. Swampy and our dog were in Erie, PA visiting her folks. That afforded me the opportunity to play hoops at night after work, except for Thursday when our company softball team had a game. My office is in Livonia now, so the days of running pick-up games with my boys at lunch time at the Birmingham YMCA are long gone, unfortunately.
On Friday I drove up to Jon Borovich (known to the rest of the Birmingham School District as Seaholm) High, where they have a relatively new court with six hoops and really nice outdoor fiberglass backboards. As I parked my car, I spied three guys already involved in a game of twenty one. Two of them were high school age and the other was in his twenties. They looked at me like I was goofy when I got down on the ground and did my stretches –- trust me, one way or the other they’ll eventually learn the value of stretching.
I warmed up for a few minutes on a side hoop and then put my ball on the grass and walked over to the court they were on and asked “who’s got the high (score)?” The older guy had ten; one of the younger dudes had eight and the other four. I noticed immediately that the older dude liked to talk -- I mean he
really liked to talk. One of those “don’t come out here, you can’t guard me” or “too late” or “you’re too small” kinda guys that I just love to play against. My response to dudes like that is to let my game do the talking because trying to jaw with them is a waste of perfectly good breathing air.
I bricked my first couple of jumpers and then pump faked and drove for a hook bank-shot lay-up off of the soft fiberglass to get on the board. I immediately got their attention when I swished all three one-pointers. “Ooooh, somebody is getting serious here” was the response I got from the obvious source. I quickly caught up to and passed the two younger guys and set my sites on Mr. Mouth. He had nineteen, so he required some special one-on-one attention on defense. I made sure to box him out when the other guys had the ball. I had sixteen, made a jumper to get to eighteen and stepped to my favorite spot beyond the three point line.
“He’s gonna miss” one of the younger guys said.
Nope.
The same kid tried to put some kinda juju hex on the rock and threw it to the opposite side of the top of the key, trying to get me to move from my spot. I retrieved it and walked back to where I had been previously.
Swish.
This time he stood directly in front of me with his hands up and a goofy look on his face.
Nothing but net.
“How much you got?” the older dude asked, unaware of the situation.
“Twenty one.”
The second game was more of the same. BG has always been a big proponent of points-per-possession and in this game I had a twelve point possession: made a shot from the field; drained all three of my freebies; hit a bomb from about twenty eight feet; hit another trio of charity tosses and topped it off with another deep one over the outstretched arms of one of the younger guys.
The third game had the same end-result as the first two.
When I swished my final freebie, I walked over to my hat, car keys and water bottle, said goodbye to the fellas, got in the convertible and drove off, leaving the three of them muttering to themselves about “Steve Nash” this and “Larry Bird” that.
It just doesn’t get any better than that, man.
That’s it “From the Swamp.”
You can email me at:
swampy@udpride.com
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