I know what you’re thinking. 5’11’’…Basketball? Really? Well there have been some professional players shorter than six feet tall. Not many, and they all probably grew up in America so the odds weren’t really in my favour. But it was another competitive sport and it looked like fun.
As with the rugby approach, the basketball coach (my future Economics teacher) at the Friary based his selection process on one PE session. He was basically looking for speed, enthusiasm and some kind of competitive streak. Boxes ticked, a few of us started doing basketball training at lunchtimes. Having started quite late at thirteen, our skill levels were pretty bad so he just encouraged us to run around a lot and learn the rules as we went along. Which we did.
Soon we were playing basketball twice a week at lunch times. It was played at a frenetic pace as we really took the ‘run around a lot’ sentiment to heart. We used to come off the court absolutely exhausted and dripping in sweat. I can honestly say it was the most intense workout that we did at the time. The forty-five minute sessions were pretty much non-stop sprinting as we went from one end of the court to another. We slowly got used to the basics and by trial and error we learnt a method of playing that suited us. I took on the position of Guard, which made a lot of sense given I wasn’t the tallest. In my head, this position essentially took on the same role as scrum half or fly half in rugby as you are looking to drive the attack. Most of the time it was looking to get the ball to the tallest or most talented player in an attacking position as quickly as possible so that they could try and score. As most of us weren’t that talented, it ended up going to the tallest players we had. Generally speaking, if they got the ball they would score.
The training sessions would become quite heated at times. The combination of a bunch of teenagers with no idea of the rules, not many skills and a hot indoor court made for a volatile arena. Even though it is supposed to be a non-contact sport, we were always smashing in to each other at full tilt. Our coach did nothing to prevent this, mainly because he was just as competitive as we were but also because he wanted us to have that aggression when we played. He was a talented player and used to run rings around us, much to his own amusement. This added to the frustration for some of the players who would easily get the ball stolen from them by the coach as they were attempting to dribble past.
In one particular session things started to boil over. One of the players, who was not a regular, started to get very annoyed by the fact he kept losing the ball. This ended in a big stand-off with a few of us and him storming off the court. This was shortly followed by a loud smashing sound, which we later discovered was due to him punching a hole through the changing room door. It took him a while to calm down, which we found quite amusing. It all added to the intensity of the sessions.
At this point I hadn’t had a serious injury, or any kind of injury at all. This changed when I picked up two in quick succession. On the first I got an elbow to the face when challenging for a ball in the air. Feeling bits of tooth in my mouth as I came down was a new sensation, but luckily it was only a chip and was easily sorted with a cap by my dentist. The second was slightly worse. As we went along our coach had pointed out to us that there were a few potentially dangerous things that could happen on a basketball court. Most of these involved twisting or flying elbows, but one was seen as a bit of a ‘no no’ when playing. This was known as the ‘Submarine’. It was considered dangerous because it meant that an opposing player was underneath someone while they were either trying to score a basket or just off their feet. This would result in the airborne player becoming upended which could end up with them landing on their neck or head. Now, given we were completely reckless and competitive, this happened much more frequently than it probably should have. So it wasn’t much of a surprise when this happened to me. Craig, who was the other main Guard, managed to Submarine me whilst I was jumping for the ball. I landed on my right forearm with my full weight. I’m not sure whether I heard a crack or not, but for the purposes of high drama I’ll say I did. As there was nothing to see, I didn’t really know whether I had done anything serious or not but within a few minutes I began to feel very nauseous. So I was dispatched to Lichfield A+E.
The A+E at the time was in a very small Hospital, which was really a minor injury clinic and maternity Department. Even though it wasn’t great ending up there, it was never that bad as we knew one of the Senior Nurses who worked there, Mrs Hickinbotham (or Mrs Hicky as she was commonly known). Mrs Hicky was the parent of one of my best friends at the Lichfield Swimming Club, Jane, and I had known her for a very long time. In fact, most of Lichfield knew her as at some point. Much like a local GP she had seen practically everybody either as a patient or family member. She couldn’t walk down the street without someone coming up and chatting to her because she’d either picked stones out of their knees, put plasters on some wound or fixed their broken limbs.
Mrs Hicky gave me the customary ‘what have you done now’ look before sending me for an X-ray. The scan showed that I had a hairline fracture of my forearm. As injuries go it wasn’t massively impressive. The break was clean and would naturally heal over the following weeks, and I would have to wear a sling to protect it. It also meant I couldn’t write for a week or two, which meant I could duck out of school tests until it healed. Result. I didn’t really do the injury many favours over those few weeks. Going to a Wonder Stuff concert and ending up in the mosh pit probably wasn’t on the recommended recovery plan, but they were the band to see at the time and I wasn’t going to miss it. I initially did the sensible thing and stayed at the back of the crowd, but when the concert started I moved forward to get as close to the front as possible. I spent the next two hours being bounced around, jostled, pushed…and I loved it.