Streetball & Spirituality (Part 1)

"The dancer becomes the dance" - The Taoist principle of non-action

Mid spin. Look at his eye. That is it. That is the sport to me.

Streetball can be an example of the Taoist principle of non-action. There's a oneness to playing. It's less seeing and reacting, and more being and going. It's letting go and doing what you know how to do. 

There are so many levels to the game. Most players talk about enjoying the game because it's an escape, everything else disappears. The top players talk about reaching a point where the game slows down. A few players will repeatably talk about taking the game one play at a time. They're figured out a secret that many have heard but few seem to understand: the game is won by being present—not concentrating about what happened in the past or what could happen in the future. This is a beautiful way to live. This is the ultimate lesson of most sports. 

When you start to break the game down into moments, it's balanced. Loud and quiet. Aggressive and graceful. Boastful and still. Yet we rarely describe the game as calm, light, or peaceful. From the outside, even the most explosive plays, when you slow them down, they look like a collection of intelligent, controlled actions. But if you're the one playing, it's all just flow.

In yoga, they say physical poses and chants are like gates to higher intelligence. In TED talks, they say lifting your arms above your head in exaltation before an interview can give you a confidence boost. In streetball, they say "fuck you" before they hit a jumper in your face.

With basketball, you are forced to look up and to jump and extend your arms and hands upward. Without knowing, you put your body in positive poses and your brain takes cues from your body. When you get knocked down in basketball and get back up, you go through cobra pose. Grabbing a rebound is part of sun salutation just elevated. The classic Jordan poster is the upper half of warrior pose. 

I played at these courts in Detroit as much as I took photos. As a player, I'm competitive, but never obsessed with winning. I just like to play and get everyone involved. I think even when I was a kid, I was more in tune with playing than winning. It's just who I am. I was and am content to just be out there. I don't have the offensive killer instinct that defines the top players. I'm not trying to make this about me, but it helps to know that my passion for the sport has always been more internal, reflective, and maybe, spiritual.

Who can remember how it feels while you're spinning? Who can say why shooting a jumper feels good after so many repetitions? This is the power of being in the moment. Because if you are truly in it, you don't get tired of it.