I had been looking forward to my first time participating in Spokane's colossal annual event known as Hoopfest for about 3 months. 6700 players, $36 million in revenue for a 2-day 3-on-3 basketball tournament that shuts down the streets of downtown Spokane (a city in Eastern Washington). I was to play with 3 guys I'd never met, introduced to me by a friend who lives in Washington. But then I arrived, the competition ensued and my team lost. Our only win the weekend of June 27-28 was because a team forfeited. Facts can be misleading though. Each game we lost was by 3 points or less with the last one on Sunday being a narrow one-point defeat.
As I soaked in the experience and the thick culture on Saturday morning, I was enamored by the basketball enthusiasm but more so a sense of community. Ex-players, current players, wheelchair players, kid players, co-ed players, elderly players, etc. were all united in a common interest. Hoopfest is 20 years old but before 2004, I'd never heard of it. In the age of Wie and PS3 people still get outdoors in plus 90-degree heat and enjoy a game played on asphalt streets concave for drainage instead of flat for pull-up jumpers. Any number of variables makes the basketball aspect of this less than desirable for a gym wimp like myself. I hate playing outdoors. But I did it this time and can't wait for 2010. I strained my back the last game and played on Advil, something I almost never do.
I was sick to my stomach on the first day from losing. After all, I didn't fly standby just to lose in a 3-on-3 tourney. But therein lies the lesson and spirit of this blog. Did my team "Walking Tall" compete? CHECK. Did we pray that we'd be a witness of Christ's love and truth to other athletes? CHECK (Before every game). Did we blame the referees for our losses? CHECK, but only the first two. See, I discovered a couple of things that weekend. #1 The competitive juices still ebb profusely through my veins. #2 The embarrassment of losing was short lived because of the camaraderie of my team members who happen to share my faith.
Being flanked by real men who love to compete, hate losing but possess an allegiance to something bigger than basketball was enlivening. Sunday was so much different that the first part of Saturday when our hopes of winning the tournament faded and we were relegated to consolation bracket play. My team members and I played together, ate together, bunked at the same home. We absorbed, I felt, the essence of a "Hoop" "Fest". Basketball as in ...Basketball. Fest as in festival or celebration. It's as if the tournament helped me to honor the notion that my athleticism, fervor and endorphin rush from basketball is a gift. We celebrated the gift at Hoopfest and it was the anti-septic I needed in the face of 3 infectiously toxic close losses. THE LESSON: When the shots just don't fall and thousands are watching, be right there in the moment. It took a couple of losses but once I was in the moment, the festival became less "Me-Fest" and more "HoopFest".
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