Housing, obviously. A bed and some furniture. And a pickup basketball game.
Ever since I was a kid, basketball has been my prime outlet. I spent hours in my driveway in Boston counting down the seconds for a game-winner against, well, nobody. I impersonated random Celtics players like Kenny Anderson and Eric Williams — role players who supplemented the stars (I knew my lane early on).
I played on school teams and in rec leagues, never really good enough to make AAU travel squads. In my free time, I watched as much ball as I could, living and dying as (this column is going to really test readers’ knowledge of early 2000s Boston athletes).
As an adult, pickup basketball served as an escape, a way for me to ignore the horrors of the world — at least for a couple of hours. Between the lines, there are no political parties or mass casualty events. It’s just you and nine other dudes, trying to figure out how to get that orange thing into a basket.
I’ve always been an antsy person — my enduring memories of childhood are my dad yelling for me to stop shaking my leg as it was rattling the whole car. Basketball gave me a reason to be jittery, an acceptable use for my constant movement.
It also served as nature’s best stress relief. Getting a good sweat in always cleared my head and reset my overactive nervous system.
So once I picked out my Ikea bed and accompanying dresser, it was time to find a game in the Mile High City.
But I have a number of pre-requisites and non-negotiables. As veteran hoopers know, not all pickup runs are created equal.
First, there’s the quality factor. I’m not interested in a game where people are just learning the sport or picking up the rules. You have to know what you’re doing out there. The players have to be solid… but not ٴǴsolid. Let’s be real: I’m 5-foot-7 and moderately athletic. I can’t be banging with 6-foot-4 dudes on the block.
Then there’s the quantity factor. The players could be good and the runs intense, but if there are 30 people waiting on one court, that’s a no-go. There’s nothing worse than waiting 30 minutes to play, losing in 12 minutes, and then waiting for another hour to get back on the court.
You also have to account for personalities. I’ve played in too many games where the action stops for 10 minutes because two guys think their masculinity is on the line and won’t stop arguing over a foul call. It’s cool to play hard and care about winning, but there has to be some level of respect out there.
Finally, there’s what I call the “Jarrett Allen test.” The Cleveland Cavaliers center has spoken publicly about playing “.” When asked to describe this brand of hoops, Allen said it’s “farm-raised, non-GMO, organic, free-range” basketball. What an explanation. I love this concept — it’s about sharing the rock, cutting without the ball, giving up good shots for great ones, and realizing that the ball finds energy when it moves around the floor.
Finding a pickup run with ethical basketball is a rare thing, the game version of a unicorn.
After meandering through a bunch of rough games, I finally found one — via a friend — at a school in south Denver that checked all the boxes. The players are good but not Division I-level high-flyers. The games are capped at 15 people, so there’s no waiting an hour to get back on the court. There’s minimal arguing and respect amongst comrades.
And, most of the time, the basketball would make Jarrett Allen proud — at least in the high-level conceptual kind of way. (We miss too many layups for him to actually like our level of hoops.)
For those searching for good pickup, many of the Denver rec centers have open gyms in the afternoons and evenings. 24 Hour Fitness usually gets a solid crowd. Otherwise, a lot of private games exist purely on word of mouth.
I still play twice a week and don’t plan on stopping anytime soon. For those looking for a good run, stick to my pre-requisites — they won’t lead you astray. We’re all out here just trying to play some organic, free-range basketball.
