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Nothing could prepare me for the drama that would happen at the Rucker last night. No one told me that I was about to play in the most exciting and well played game of this year's Entertainer's Basketball Classic. I thought I was ready for anything and everything. And then the second overtime began... Stephon Marbury was on time. I was ready. Fat Joe had interrupted the new video he was shooting, putting the entire production on hold for four hours, to be there to watch his team in the playoff game that would carry us into the championship. The crowds surrounding the courts were so thick that the bleachers were all but useless. People stood up, the anticipation coming off them like heat waves, filling the Rucker with an almost static excitement. We were all amped. The sun was warm and calm, a perfect summer day in Harlem. The refs signaled the start of the game, and the whole world went crazy. Let me back up a minute. Ours was the second game played that night. The first was between a team called Posse and Tommy Hilfiger's team. Two of Hilfiger's stars were abscent. Skip To My Lou was just M.I.A. No one knew what happened to him; we don't know why he wasn't there. Speedy Williams went to China to play with the Harlem Wizards; it's like a lower level Harlem Globetrotters team. Everyone knew he wouldn't be there. Posse is Dunk.net's team, the returning champs from last year. Posse won the game easily. They were set to be our opponents in the championship game. After their game, the night grew a little older and the stage was set for the throwdown between my squad, the Loud Records Terror Squad, and a team called Vacant Lot, which featured A Whole Lotta Game and the Jones boys, Charles and Lamont. We all gathered on the court, a whistle was blown, and, as I said, the world started to make less and less sense. Vacant Lot is a pressing team, so we already had everybody in position for that possibility. We scored the first basket. A few plays later I throw down a ally-oop and the crowd goes crazy over it. For a while, we just went back and forth until my squad hit a kind of lull. The next thing you know, they're up by seven or eight points. They kept that lead for the remainder of the firt half. Midway through the second half, we finally got the lead back. It was a lot of back and forth. Again, I knew while it was happening that this game was gonna go down in history as one of the best that the EBC has ever seen. I had been putting the clamp on my man Charles Jones who plays for the LA Clippers. He started scoring while I was on the bench, so I had to go back in. He scored five more points from that point on, and only because I had to go help out someone else. But, basiclly, defense put us in the position to even things out. In the end, it came down to the three points that they were up when there were only seven seconds left on the clock. We fouled them. They missed both free throws. We had another chance. Live action: I get the rebound off the miss. I kick it to my man, The Natural Controller. He goes down, shakes, leaves them shook, practiclly gets pushed out of bounds, launches a three on the buzzer and banks it in. The crowd goes bannanas. The Rucker is screaming. Fat Joe takes off his shirt and is running around the crowd. It was crazy. Overtime is in effect. In the first overtime, we were butta. Boom, boom, boom. Threes, playing defense, whatever. Now, under two minutes they start using the 24 second shot clock. This is where the madness really begins. Because there is no visible clock the referees are supposed to say out loud when there are only ten seconds left in a posession. So we're passing around the ball when, all of a sudden, one of the refs signals a shot clock violation. The problem is that no one started the ten second count. Not a word was spoken. So, of course, we're pissed off. Drama. The refs meet and, after a lot of hollering by us, they decide to honor the rule and put ten seconds back on the clock. Following this decision, the coach of Vacant Lot threatened to take his team out of the game. He told his team to come to the bench and he himself starts to walk out of the park. Meanwhile, all the momentum we had massed during the first part of OT is diminishing. Gone. Finally, they convince this cat to stay. After a few possesions, they hit a three and we're down one. It's our ball, and one of my teammates is fouled down in the corner - without the ball. Now check this. Rules state that when a man is fouled away from the ball under a minute of play, its an automatic two shots and you get the ball back. The referees decided not to honor this rule. They held a conference and said that there would be two shots but we would not get the ball back. I've been playing in the EBC since '88, and I never seen this much BS when it comes to refs. For some reason, whenever we would go up in the OTs, the game clocks would go out for like five minutes. If we were on a run, and there was a dead ball, the clock would malfunction. This had to have happened at least five times. Eventually, we were up three with fifteen seconds left. They come down, and A Whole Lotta Gaame hits a tough three to tie it up. Second overtime. Things fall apart in the second OT for us. Seriously, crazy things started happening to put us behind. I jumped for a defensive rebound on one possesion, the ball hits off my hand, and somehow goes in their basket. I started to believe then that something was going on. There was one ref who was complaining the whole game that he had a night job and he had to hurry up and get out of there. When we had the lead again, the clock shuts off, and we lose our momentum. During one key play, we're trying to sub me in to take the place of a more offensive player so I could apply some D to one of their key scorers. The deadball occurs, I'm on my way in the game, when the ref suddenly throws the ball quickly back in and starts the game again. What the f**k? This ended up being crucial - the guy I would have been guarding scored and was fouled by the guy I was supposed to sub for. They're up four with 14 seconds left. Live Action: We got the ball. Steph has the ball and misses a finger roll. He's fouled, but the refs aren't trying to hear it. My man is still complaining about his night job. We get the ball back and it's in Steph's hands again. Time is running out. The other team is about to celebrate. Steph shoots a three on the buzzer. Banks it in. We're down one. Steph's man tagged him on the arm. One ref calls a foul. A FOUL. The other ref, the one with the night job to jet to, overrules the call and signals the game is over. The three is good but there is no foul. Game over. The Rucker went crazy. 'AND 1!!!' was chanted so loud they must have heard it in Brooklyn. We ended up losing by one in double overtime. I was nearly sick on the court. I saw the refs go out through the back gate and I caught a glimpse of a lot of friction going on in that area, but I don't know if it was because the fans were kicking the ref's ass or not. I don't know anything but that we lost a game we won. Fat Joe jetted back to the video shoot, full of rage. We met up with him later and actually got put into the video. Afterwards, we kicked it in his trailer and talked things out. He told us someone would be talking to the EBC people about the bullsh*t. But inside, I knew it wouldn't matter. We had shown the league a lot of love but we weren't feeling any at the moment. Some cats on my team were feeling worse than I was; they hadn't won at this level yet and were really looking forward to that championship game. I went to sleep last night knowing I would never play in another EBC game. I've been in it since 1988. But I can't get down with them again after last night. The Rucker will live forever. But the powers-that-be should realize that it lives because the playground is sacred. Leave the politics and secret agendas at home. All that belongs inside the cages, on the asphalt, in Harlem, is game. Respect that. One Love - The Black Stallion |
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