THE LAST RIDE HOME:
The little rock basketball team composed of members possessed. Created in the eighties, it has now evolved into a cogent unit of semi professionals. Patil sir then took over the managerial post. That is when we really began to see what we were capable of. I became part of the team in 10th grade. I was a small chap back then, in the team only because I had the uncanny ability of shooting three pointers, never missing. The workouts were intense. I had to leave home early as there were morning drills that could not be missed. So my mum used to drop me at the udupi bus stand 5 kms away, as there was no bus to Udupi until 6 in the morning. I used to take the first express bus then to brahmavar, a further 15kms or so and then another bus to school a short distance away. I made it on most days by 7. It meant that I missed the first half hour of practice. I never enjoyed the morning sessions much. Lots of German relays/suicides, push ups, ab crunches not to mention a variety of offensive and defensive manoeuvres. Nevertheless the draining routine every morning left us all feeling very alive and ready for school which began at 9:30 every morning. I brought a towel, soap and the school uniform with me daily along with the school books. So every morning after practice we had a bath, ate breakfast and went to class. 4:30 in the evening we used to rush to the mess, have the usual tea and snacks, change our clothes and pick up a basketball each from the sports room. Keep shooting and generally fooling around till the coach came and blew his whistle to make us line up at the base line. The evening drills were much more fun. It was the time for match practice. One hour full court games were what we looked forward to. The purpose behind these games was to put our drills into practice, play a set game and to convert most of the baskets. I used to enjoy the feeling. The school buses used to leave around 4:40 every evening. And I was there playing, trying out stunt layups and the little kids who used to poke their heads out of the windows were left impressed. After two weeks of drills we were in for a pleasant surprise. Patil sir came to the court with two big plastic bags in each hand. Our school jerseys- bright blue with white borders and red numbering. I wanted the number 8, because that was Kobe Bryant’s jersey number. But I was beaten to it by somebody else. But nevertheless I was immensely pleased to wear no.12. We played our best game that day, all of us, in our jerseys. I didn’t change back into my uniform after practice. I still vividly remember my dad’s face when he opened the door. There was pride in his eyes, something I know he feels but rarely displays. He did that day and I suddenly felt that all those mornings of thankless drills were worth it.
In that year we took part in the CBSE Cluster level basketball tournament. The top two teams made it to the South Zone and the top two from there went on to the Nationals. We were a young team then. We didn’t have high expectations. All we wanted was to play a hard game and stick to the basics. Our lack of experience cost us dearly. It was a close match and we fought hard throughout. The score was neck and neck right till the end. The match went into overtime. That’s when our defence fell apart. They had a spree of fast breaks. We lost that match 38-34. We were knocked out of the first match of the tournament.
This defeat only spurred out desire to win. Intensity was reaching its peak. Next up was a college level tournament celebrating the Dushera festival. We were scheduled to play MIT, the engineering college team at their home court. A lot of factors were against us. We were kids, they were big guys- brash and to hell with the rules. Moreover the crowd was hostile. The audacity that a school team had the arrogance of challenging the might of a college.
The match began at a fever pitch. I did not figure in the starting five. I guess the coach thought I was too small and would not be able to play such a physical game. Being underdogs helps and our first round loss in the clusters was still very alive in our memories. It was a violent game. The opposite centre elbowed into our shooting guard. His nose broke and he bled buckets. That meant a substitute. This was the chance I was waiting for. I rushed in and the entire opposition and crowd sniggered. I had turned up in an oversized sleeveless banyan which was green in colour. Add to that I was also wearing green shorts which went down below by knees. Hell.
The game renewed. I will never forget what happened thereafter. The job assigned to me was simple. To score those threes. So I ran up and down the court well out of the way of the big guys. I didn’t want to get hit for no reason. The ball came to me. Immediately my marker leaped towards me. He was around 6 feet tall. Out of sheer alarm I released the ball. It was a swish, straight through the basket. Phew! A surge of blood ran through my entire body. I knew right then that it was my night. I scored three more baskets that night, all of them in similar fashion, once with my defender actually jumping clean over me.
We were leading by one point again. 13-12, with 20 seconds remaining. All we had to do was to hold the ball and wait for the final whistle. Our ball handler brought the ball upto the 90. Two defenders rushed to him. He managed to pass to the 45- me. I held on the ball for dear life, not knowing what to do. I was surrounded by opposition players. I closed my eyes and did the unthinkable. I threw the ball straight up in the air. The ball looped high. Everything had gone in slow motion. Even the crown screeching itself hoarse till now with “Mighty Mighty MIT” fell silent.
Trust my luck. It was the star player of the other team that gathered the ball. Immediately he rushed for a layup and got fouled. Two freethrows. If he scores both, their team win and we go back home again.
He took the first shot. It went peerlessly through the basket. The scores were now tied. He lined up for the second throw. His knees bent and eyes narrowed in concentration as he released the ball. The sphere zoomed through the air. It bounced on the ring, once, twice unsure of its destination and perilously close to deciding our own.
It dropped into the basket. The crowd burst out and converged on their victorious team. I walked back dazed to my bench, not uttering a word, and wishing above all that I was anywhere else except there.
The coach said just one thing, that still haunts me, “So Gopal, from hero to zero, eh?”
He said it jokingly, but it hurt nevertheless. Tears swelled up in my eyes. Were we always going to lose? Was it always meant to be so near yet so far???
all i can say is that i guess its all in the game. the tide had to turn, our best was yet to come...keep reading the blog to find out!!
(The second instalment is here)
