In a city without an NBA team, I excelled. The city has a rich basketball history. Guys who came home in the summer and played in summer tournaments that caught the attention of young players who hoped to one day do the same.
I went to Seattle for the CrawsOver Pro-Am, to the Drew League in Los Angeles, and to the Kingdom Summer League in Columbus, Ohio, in the summer of this year. I went to see the magic that takes place on long days in a hot gym, to be in the company of that hope, and to return to a place that felt like it was missing something.
At the start of the 2016 documentary "Who is Estaban", there is a moment when Columbus basketball legend Estaban Weaver gives a rapturous monologue on what propels his love of the game, down to the most granular details. The way you can hear the sound of shoes squeaking, bouncing off the walls, or rattling the metal of lockers in a hallway before you even get to the gym. The smell is also. The smell of exercise equipment. Not only sweat. Sometimes there is rubber, sometimes there is butter, and sometimes there is a thick cloud from the opening of a popcorn machine In the film, Weaver says it sounds strange. That smell would be bottled. It would be used as a cologne.
The Kingdom Summer league is held at Ohio Dominican University and ishelmed by Tihon Johnson, 40, who started his high school career at Centennial High before moving to East High. He played at Idaho and then overseas. He started the Kingdom Summer League out of a rec center, and then East High's gym, and finally, Ohio Dominican.
The campus is sleepy in the middle of the summer and the gym is just beyond the road. You wouldn't be aware that anything was happening, but for the chorus of shouts and squeaking shoes that act as a kind of map for those who know the game and don't get to see it often.
Columbus has at least one semi-pro basketball history. The ColumbusHorizon played in theCBA from 1989 to 1994 The Columbus Quest played in the pre-WNBA American Basketball League from 1996 to 1998 You could get into games at the convention center for little or no money, if you wanted to watch a legend, and if you wanted to see the Quest win two titles in a row.
Columbus' basketball history is entwined with its high school legends. The city league ball is specific. You had a legacy to uphold if you were from the city. It wasn't always important if you made it out. Sometimes it was the biggest moment when playing in the coliseum. It was going to happen. Better stories exist. Drew was on the cover of a magazine. There are stories about East High School's 1951 state championship, the 1963 championship, the 1968 and 1969 title, and the 1979 title, if you are in the right crowd. Even though he doesn't look old enough to have lived through it all, a man on my block claims to have seen all of them.
The Columbus basketball economy is so dependent on local legends that there is a specific flair to what can happen in the summer. When I was a kid, it was either the Worthington Summer League or the notorious three-on-three tournament, which took place out into Broad Street. The courts of your own neighborhood were where the city's best players would gather to get tested the way they never could in a college gym.
There are many impulses at the intersection of the Kingdom Summer League. It is both competitive and celebratory. It is a return to home for the players. The court is indoors. It's not limited to the places you've lived in. There will be people who remember you when you first made a name for yourself if you were ever made in this city. If you were a good player on the courts in Columbus, you can always find a place to live.
The King Drew Magnet High School Gym welcomes another King, as he walks through the corridors, wearing a black and white pinstripe jersey and shorts. The last time he was here, the Drew was struggling to keep people engaged and come through at a consistently high level. In the summer of 2011, with the NBA in the middle of a labor dispute, its stars were looking for a place to compete, and the Drew gave them that. Kobe Bryant hit a game-winner over James Harden in the dying moments of a heated contest to give his team a two-point win in the pro-am.
James made his Drew debut that summer, scoring 33 points and offering up a number of highlight dunks. Today, 11 years later, James still has the occasional highlight dunk in his bag, catching an alley-oops off the backboard and swinging on the rim before descending and staring skyward, for a moment, gathering on the break and pulling off a spin move that isn't as fast as It's hard to tell how hard the work on the basketball court is for the player, as I've watched him play since he was a kid. He can make the impossible look easy even when he is challenged. No one will fault him for taking it easier at the Drew than he might have been in his younger days. A spectacular fadeaway or breathtaking pass is the result of him launching too many long jump shots. The thing works out.
He's guarded by Black Pearl Elite's Dion Wright who tries to corral James with both arms as he makes his way in for a layup. Wright is up for the challenge, fighting during post-ups and getting a hand in the face of the reigning NBA champion. Wright is doing enough work on the offensive side of the ball to keep his team in the game. Getting into space and shooting mid-range jumpers are some of the things that are putbacks. It's surprising that the game is close by the end, given that Drew and DeMar are both in the game. Black Pearl Elite makes the game a fight so that they don't get sacrificed at the altar of Drew League mythology.
In the end, the team that had the most points was the one that won the game. Of course that matters. It mattered if the narrative had he not won. While he was on the floor, he was close enough to touch for people who might never see a Lakers game in person. The pro-am brings the greatest among us a little closer to earth because it undresses the flawed concept of gods.
Everyone is going to tell me how the city isn't prepared for a heat wave. I think it's because I'm both sweaty and shocked when I walk into buildings, and there isn't any air conditioning. As I make my way through the crowd at Seattle Pacific University in the late afternoon on a Saturday, I hear that Seattle is one of America's least air-conditioned cities. The highlighted game of the day is already underway when I get to the gym. Two guys are playing on the same team against a team led by Jaden McDaniels. Both of the Seattle guys are on the younger side of the local talent pool. The game on the floor is a spectacle, before even mentioning the atmospheric qualities: Holmgren is a defensive terror and blocks anything close to the basket. The two men traded long threes. The jawing is mostly harmless and playful. There are people in the stands who are interested in the game more than the court. Ballmer casually eats popcorn and leans closer to the floor when the ball is at the top of the key.
In the fourth quarter, when the ball is in the hands of an opposing player, Banchero finds himself on the receiving end of a thunderous dunk, which sends the crowd into a frenzy. What can be special about the Pro-Am can be seen in this moment. A gym that buzzes for minutes at a time, riding a wave of excitement, pushed to its limits until something ignites it, and then it opens. There is a time before and a time after that opening. Even if there are still minutes left on the clock, nothing is the same.
There is no barrier between the court and the people in the bleachers. There isn't a lot of security at the gym and so everything depends on people's ability to respect the game and respect the players. Most of the people here are younger than me and their mouths are open as if they have a permanent yawn. There is a lot of movement in the space. Physical as well as emotional. Crawford and his small crew were in a comfortable position on the baseline. Young people crowded the space after the dunk to get a better look at the players. The game wasn't close at all, despite a McDaniels fourth-quarter scoring flurry to keep things somewhat in reach (McDaniels ended the game with 52), his team couldn't keep up and lost by twenty.
The referees who had been trying to prevent young people from stepping over the white border between the baseline and the court relented as the clock turned over. The flood began because of the excitement that had never calmed down. The line between desire and action blurs when pre-teens and teenagers rush the floor. The goal was to get close to the future and present players before they entered the locker room. A small child stood with a basketball under his arm, the ball so large that it seemed to push his arm out to a point of near impossibility. At that moment, he must have felt like a monument to himself. The boy remained for a moment, still looking up at the space he had just been in. The boy looked at the sun and shook his head.
The center court at Ohio Dominican is referred to as J.J. Sullivan's Court. He has a snapback on his head and is wearing jeans and a shirt. Tihon Johnson held an award plaque in his hand and gave a joyful, reflective speech, a wide smile pushing his graying beard up high on his face. We used to be rivals in high school. He waved the plaque enthusiastically at the end of each word.
This is a part of the Kingdom Tradition, an overarching set of ideals that includes basketball, but is much more than that. The Kingdom League is about faith, family, and community. Community is made up of both the past and the present. There is greatness at the moment but also greatness in the moments before. Awards for community legends and community service for people who have meant something to the city are included in the Kingdom Awards. At halftime of every game, even in a day with three games spread out over an afternoon, Johnson gives out an award, offers a speech of gratitude to someone and makes them come to center court.
The Kingdom League semifinals are in full force and J.J. Sullinger is a perfect example of how useful this kind of acknowledgment is. The thing about Columbus is that you are never too far away from knowing someone you used to know. J.J. and I were both at the same middle school, but J.J. went on to star at a high school in the northern suburbs of the city, and then went on to play college football at Ohio State. One of Ohio's most prominent basketball families is the sullingers. Satch Sullinger was a national high school coach of the year in 2010 and he was the father of two sons. J.J.'s son will be a sophomore at Kent State University in the fall.
It can be a lot to keep up with, as I realize listening to a person behind me work through the family tree with the person they came to the game with, both of them seeming to become more confused as he tries to work it out. J.J.'s son, Jar, is the youngest, and he plays at Kent State, and he is also a coach at Kent State.
Satch wanders back into the gym at the end of the first half. He is a giant and has a huge presence. He walks with a limp that makes it look like he's ducking his tall frame under a barrier. He commands the respect of the room, his eyes looking out beneath a hat and through glasses to see the crowd. He waves to the people who are shouting Hey, Satch! or Alright now!
A pained look on the face of a ref who, it seems, is choosing to not make eye contact, as the most decorated player in the Sullinger line, is currently on the floor, arms extended to the sky, is what is happening. His pops won the award for coaching in the same year that he won the high school player of the year. At Ohio State, he was an All-American two times. He had some moments in the league, particularly during his early years in Boston, but back injuries and concerns about conditioning forced him out of the NBA by the end of the year. He put together a string of dominating seasons in the Chinese Basketball Association. The word at the Kingdom is thatJared wants to win, not that everyone wants to win. He would love to win. The Ohio Dominican security guard told me that he doesn't want Burke to get all the attention this summer.
During the Kingdom League this summer,Jared's play has been consistently good, but in the semifinals he turned it up a notch. In the first half, his Buckeye Prep team was in control against the Reitano Sports Center, but Scott Thomas, who played at Buckeye Valley High and then Bowling Green, found himself in the middle of an impossible heat wave in the second half. Threes off of one leg and layups through a forest of limbs. The once comfortable lead has turned into a single digit deficit. It would be thought that the best player on the floor would take over. He is hampered by fouls and turnovers. The light flickered halfway through the fourth quarter. The fadeaway fell and then a three.
Sometimes math comes from proximity and is called a hero or legend. We can't be who we were at our peak. Even if it is a funhouse mirror version, we can still see that person. A person beside me mumbled, " Damn, s---, look just like when he was back at Northland." whileJared went to work in securing the victory for Buckeye Prep. That is a part of the magic of this. There are people here who were fans of the man when he was a kid. There were people who watched J.J. and who heard whispers that a younger brother was on the way. Before freshman year, a legend. There are a lot of people who root for the same team. He was pulling on the green and white, so he was not appreciated by the fans of the Celts. He went away. It's difficult to watch the games in China from Ohio. This is what we have For a period of time, the brilliance of a legend is as familiar as it was then. It is a part of the Kingdom tradition. It's a circle of greatness.
He can't wait to show me something on his phone. The CrawsOver has had the biggest weekend so far. At the end of the second half of yesterday's game, it was announced that a trio of Atlanta Hawks would be arriving at Seattle Pacific. Crawford recommended getting here early. Crawford and I are at the top of the bleachers watching a game between local women's high school players unfold. He goes to his phone when there is a break. He drove along the street a few hours earlier and there was a line of people winding around one block and then another. It is not so much a line as it gets towards the end, more of a group of people. People spread out into the street. The arena has a capacity of less than 3,000 and these people have to know that. They run towards the crowd in Trae Young jerseys, relying on hope.
Crawford has been furthering his mission since he was a teenager. He told me that he was a sixteen-year-old playing in the summer league when he was growing up. It was a pleasure to play in it. He was a big brother to me. I was a member of his pro-am team. He told me that he was going to give the pro-am to me when he retired. I grew up in it and he knew it wouldn't be taken care of the same as I would. It had a big effect on me.
It was Doug Christie's All Hoop, No Hype. Since 2005, Crawford has been running it. He insists that he will never stop playing. "I'm always going to play, because it's me," he said when I asked. There was no one to play with. We had a lot of people in the crowd.
Crawford has a lot of thanks for the Storm. Mentioning the Storm to people in this area causes a smile or a burst of joy. Crawford believes that the Storm's holding it down for the city has saved Seattle from a basketball purgatory that might have existed after the Sonics' departure. There are still young people in the arena wearing Sue Bird or Breanna Stewart jerseys and Storm T-shirts. The team has helped keep the city afloat. Crawford knows that there are young people who can't make the trip to Portland or California to watch an NBA game because they only get to see it on TV. Crawford is in close contact with the young people. Yesterday, even in the midst of shouting instructions at Paolo from the baseline, when a young person (egged on by what seemed to be an older sibling) came up to Crawford with a marker and one of his Knicks jerseys, he stopped everything. Crawford tells them he'll be watching the next game when he stops and gives them a couple of pointers on their handle.
This is how he is endearing. Crawford puts so much of himself, his time, and his energy into making the Pro-Am a singularly touchable experience for young people that I can't help but be a cynic. Every year he asks them what NBA players they would like to see and then he brings them in. He doesn't tell the public which game the NBA players will be in because he wants everyone to play. Crawford tells me that it's partly about legacy and lineage. If there is a young person who plays basketball in this community, whether he coaches them or not, he cares about them because they are in his community.
Crawford is uniquely suited to lead something like the CrawsOver in the same way that Seattle is. He is respected by his teammates. He's an OG through time. He told me that he saw a video with Trae where he said he was watching his game grow up. Man, you never know. You don't know what your game means to other people.
Crawford becomes a tour guide when I ask about Seattle's high school basketball history.
There is a concentrated area. Garfield High is similar to Brandon Roy and Tony Wroten. Franklin is named after one of the following people: Dejounte Murray is one of the people named Rainer Beach. All those schools can be reached in 15 minutes. O'Dea is close to where Paolo came from.
He takes a moment to reflect. It is special because of that. It is different due to that. We've known each other our entire lives. We have always supported each other. He nodded towards the door when he said this final part. I always took Seattle with me wherever I went. I didn't leave even when I was gone.
Crawford doesn't know why he left the NBA. He insists that he still has a game to play. It would be supported by the numbers for what it is worth. He told me that it took him a year and a half to get over it. My wife encouraged me to become a coach. That's what kept me alive. The children need me. I need them as well. My entire life is devoted to them. That is something.
Tihon Johnson looks the same as he did when he played at East High School. He's still quick to smile or make a joke, and he has an expression that is abundant. Johnson talks to people who show up to the Kingdom like they're one of his oldest friends. He's inquisitive and makes eye contact. He runs from the scorer's table to the bleachers to the lobby of the gym on most days during the Kingdom League. He didn't play in the league this year. His team won the title. He had a good summer last year. He had nothing left to prove on the court, and he wanted to expand the pro-am beyond what it had been.
In a highly specific sense, Johnson was a mentee of the Bahamian minister who wrote a series of books about people using their skills and the things they are passionate about into impact. Johnson decided it was time to get to work when he was given the assignment.
Johnson has used his connections to grow the pro-am. He has ties to the NBA and worked with young players while training and mentoring. He mentioned the CrawsOver connection when I mentioned my trips to Seattle. He told me that he played at Idaho with a friend of Crawford's. He taught me how to run a successful pro-am when he dropped gems on me. It's similar to our family out there.
The goal is to get bigger NBA names in the pro-am more often. Getting former Ohio State players like Malaki Branham to come back in the summer. It's difficult. Columbus does not have an NBA team, but it does not have the history or legacy of an NBA team that used to be. It's easy to have the rich, always ongoing basketball history of the city reduced to a whisper because all sports in Columbus have to compete with Ohio State football. The NBA guys aren't the only ones. A lot of the guys who played in this city went on to do great things. It has a lot of talented people. Chicago, LA, and New York are all different places. We put everyone out as well as possible.
Johnson knows what the city can be, how it can make a name for itself nationally, and he knows it begins with the generations beyond his own. The approach of simplicity is what starts it all. If you are young and come through the Kingdom, you are going to watch and play ball. You're getting a lot of things.
Johnson says that he's a family man. In October we're working on our fifth. I am a dad of five. The Kingdom League was started by me and my husband. My wife has been with me the entire time. We have also been married to the Kingdom League. My wife, my mother-in-law, my sister-in-law, my brother, they all do concessions. We do everything with family in mind.
They can't take the floor until the floor is clear. The chant has been repeated on the microphone for a short time, but there is no movement on the floor. Young kids press against the sidelines and onto the floor as the announcing team pleads with people to take their seats. My once comfortable spot on the baseline is now occupied by a crowd of photographers who are elbowing for space, some giving up and resting on their stomachs, and kicking their feet up in the air. It is a miracle that people are excited at all. It has been hours since the doors first opened for the day, and the heat has only grown more ferocious as a larger number of bodies have been crammed into the gym, which was already at capacity by noon. I rest my hand on the brick as I move against the wall. condensation weighed down the walls
When the Hawks hit the floor, it was Trae Young who led them out, walking slowly to center court and then walking along the sideline while nodding. The kids in the front row leaped out of their seats and curled around the sideline, creating a crescent at Young's back.
It was here that I found myself grinning widely. It's not about reporting or documenting the moment for a bigger purpose. Like everyone else in the building, the kids push their way past the sideline. To say that Isn't this something? Nothing else. It was almost reflexive and I didn't notice it. I was as close to the action as possible, but by the time I got to the basket, I was swept away by the wonder and exuberance of the crowd. This was not something like this before the game started. Collins, Young and Murray went through the motions of the layup line while the space in front of them was still awe-inspiring. I believe this to be a part of the magic of these moments, where the barrier between the professional superstar and the people is less than it used to be. There is a return to a younger self for elders.
I brushed shoulders with the security guard who was supposed to keep people away from the baseline as I moved closer to a safe corner of the wall. He had a towel over his shoulder as he made new designs on his shirt. He shook his head and half laughed as he told the kids to get back and checked the credentials of the photographers. He made room for a brief smile.
There wasn't much drama to be had except for the highlight reel. The game was a big win for the NBA stars, but there were some small sparks. There was feistiness from the opposing team at the beginning of the game. Sometimes NBA player Mike James puts up a great effort to keep his team in the game. After the game, when I catch up with Shabazz, he picked Trae Young's pocket on two attempted crossovers. He made me work.
The game was fairly low on, as all that was left was a signature highlight. When Dejounte Murray bounced the ball off of an opposing player's head, he received both cheers and groans. The CrawsOver made it clear that there is no hierarchy when a player crosses the floor. No one wants to be seen as dumb. Some of the courts are occupied by players who have something to prove, while others are occupied by NBA stars who have little to prove.
At the end of the third quarter, Trae Young slipped the ball through the legs of an opponent and threw a no-look alley-oops to Murray and Collins. Young put his hands on his head and looked at the rim in disbelief as he heard the crowd noise and then mouthed something that looked like "Oh my god". As bodies rushed to the sidelines, past scant security, as heat and sound and light collapsed even more aggressively atop us all, it occurred to me that miracle-makers sometimes get to be amazed by their own miracles. I went to the gym to look for Crawford. He was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, and he had a smile on his face.
The Kingdom League's Most Valuable Player trophy is held up by Jerry Sullivan before the start of the title game. The team committed to my craft is led by a respected player development coach from Dayton. After starting the Kingdom League season with some inconsistency, Committed To My Craft went on a six game winning streak to win the title. They're balanced, led by former Michigan player Zavier Simpson, who is referred to as Captain Hook at the Kingdom, due to his affinity for the hook shot, despite his diminutive size. The team is running through any opponent in front of them. There's still work to be done despite the fact that Sullinger has earned his pre-gameMVP moment.
The gym at Ohio Dominican is filling up fast. Gary Trent Jr. and Trey Burke are playing in a post-championship game in order to have fun. There is a fight between Columbus and Cleveland.
In the first half, Buckeye Prep seems stunned by the relentless nature of theCTMC attack, the defensive pressure and the speed at which they play in transition seem to both exhaust and frustrate the players. In the first half, committed to my craft is up by 18. The crowd is restless, expecting a more entertaining battle than they have gotten. At halftime, Tihon Johnson gives an award to local basketball legend Lawrence Funderburke, who then tries to give a speech about community uplift, but can barely be heard over the crowd's restless chatter. The packed gym with familiar faces in a big moment for the city's basketball history makes it feel like people just want the game to end.
Basketball can be a game of runs if you know how to play it. It's difficult to know what happens in the inciting moments that make a run possible. Even halfway through the third quarter, Buckeye Prep still looked flustered, as the lead ranged from 20 to 22 before ballooning again. With time winding down, he decided that he had had enough. It was a great stretch of basketball, one that began slowly and then quickly won over a crowd. There was a fadeaway, a putback, and a spin move in the post for a layup. To highlight it all, a long three was needed. There was a man watching the ball go through the net. As a whistle blew signaling a timeout, a young boy ran onto the court and slapped the floor before running back to his seat.
Even though it wasn't enough, it almost doesn't matter. Buckeye Prep failed to make free throws in the final three minutes of the game. Ibi was the most valuable player in the championship. During the championship ceremony, he waved towards the stands and smiled. He had done most of what he came back to do. It's okay for now.
They play for jewelry, real rings, designed in-house and delivered to the champion team in the locker room after the game at the Drew League. The awards presentation before the championship game would suggest that The Drew is proud of its history and ceremony. The championship is being held at a college. It is almost entirely nondescript like Ohio Dominican. No one knows where to go when I get there. There is nothing to suggest that a basketball game is happening here, and so people wander the campus, searching for more people, or anything that resembles a gym.
Each award has a story and a name behind it. Chris and Jonathan Baxter, mainstays at the Drew who died in a car crash, were honored with a community award. Clarence "Clank" Worship was one of the Drew legends who died in a car crash. Chris Allen was given the award. The gathering on a place beyond basketball, focusing on history, loss, grief, survival and triumph, is what the awards process is about.
Dion Wright won the most inspiring player award for defending himself when the internet got hold of the clips. Wright, who played at St. Bonaventure and has been a fixture at the Drew for many years, took the floor for the title game, his Black Pearl Elite team playing against the team that had NBA players De' Anthony Melton and Delon Wright.
It could be the promise of championship rings or the fatigue of a long summer season for players who had been grinding it out every week, not flying in for a cameo appearance and then flying out, but the championship game is a grind. It isn't necessarily a prolific defensive battle, as it is rife with turnovers and misses. The score is -11 by the end of the first quarter. BPE doesn't score for nearly four minutes in the second quarter and then goes on a small run.
Dion Wright is having a hard time in the third quarter. Free throws aren't falling. He stares at the rim as if the machinery had betrayed him. The game tenses up. Wright snaps at someone else. Both teams have to be separated a couple of times when buckets aren't falling because of the physical nature of the game. In the fourth quarter, the game picks up in both quality and intensity, but it is only close in terms of the numbers on the board. Even as their lead dwindled to single digits, the hometown favorites always felt in control of the outcome, with Melton squeezing seconds off of the clock in order to keep his team ahead by just enough points to remain out of reach.
It was refreshing to see a final that went this way: two teams at the end of it all. Some of the players who came up here were in the league for a long time. They are all trying to get a small window of permanentity. There is something beyond the hype. There is a little decoration to show off.
If you live close enough to any park that still has decent rims up, and maybe puts up a clean net at the start of the season, summer is still signaled by the echo of a bouncing ball. The symphony of summer's arrival can be heard on the east side of Columbus. You don't need to look for it. It was the same way when you were young, with time on your hands, and a ball that had enough grip to last a while. I go to the park in the mornings to get some shots. I like the way it's done. I love being able to get into a good rhythm. There is a child at the court. He wants to play on the team at his middle school. The kind of thing that happens when you unexpectedly share a space with someone is what we shoot around in silence. His brother was a player at East. He does not know if he wants to play in the NBA. He was able. The dream isn't big anymore. To play at a place where a hero of his own small city played. There is a dream beyond here as well as a dream here. Someone has been living it. It's not done yet.
The Kingdom League is over for good. There is a competition between old and new friends after a champion has been named. Tihon Johnson had to play if Gary Trent was to play. Johnson, in a grey Kingdom League jersey a year after he swore he wouldn't play in the league again, ran back down the court after making a layup and nudging Burke, throwing his head back and laughing. A child is laughing and twirling at a point of near-belief. A laugh that rattles through a gym at the end of summer.
Hanif is a Columbus, Ohio native. "A Little Devil in America" is his most recent book. He was a recipient of a fellowship.
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