So once upon a time, kids learned to dribble by… wait for it… dribbling a basketball.
Like… all the time. On the way home from school. Around the house.
Now, overindulged rich suburban kids can have mommy/daddy buy them this ridiculous basketball – sync it with their iPod/iPad/iThing – and get (almost) real-time data on how they are dribbling, how they are shooting, and well… just how hopeless it is that they’ll ever play the game at a high level.
There’s a saying in basketball about NYC point guards: “They’ll give up their gold or the girl before giving up their dribble.” Dribbling well – or better yet, having “sick handle” – is about natural ability to make the basketball your personal orange yo-yo. It’s about having a subtle touch, instinctive feel, and…. endless reps.
It doesn’t hurt that these days “palming” and “carry-overs” are not only never called, but almost actively encouraged by the rule makers.
I can just see some doughy kid getting knocked off his bike, his $300 iBasketball stolen by the neighborhood tough, then slinking home to mommy in shame to try to explain what happened.
Kids. Lose the phone, keep dribbling.
Or, if you have to… watch “The Professor” – my favorite And1 Mix Tape tour whitey, with the mad ball skillz!