Prison Basketball

Let me start off by saying that I hate basketball.

I hate watching it.

I hate playing it.

But I jumped on board when I was invited to be part of our church's prison basketball ministry a number of years ago. The church had a basketball team that went into prisons throughout Eastern and Southern Wisconsin. They would play against the champion of the prison's league. I signed on and went to the games with our church team. I was an official spectator. I sat in the bleachers with all of the other spectators; mostly the inmates, and cheered on my team.

The inmates were always glad when an outside team came in to play against them. It was a privilege they had to earn to be allowed to play, or even attend, the games. The prison teams normally beat the outside team badly. They practiced together a lot and were usually very good. Now our church team wasn't like your "typical" church team. We had several guys who had played college basketball and even a couple who had been drafted; although they hadn't ultimately made it to the NBA.

Our team's standard game plan to start the game was to win the tip (always won the tip), run down the court to slam dunk, put on a full court press to steal the inbound pass and slam it again. That normally got the opponents' attention and they would settle in for a hard fought game.

I'll never forget my first time going along; it was the the state's maximum security prison at Waupun. Now, to be fair, the state has a "super max" prison that is even higher security, but this was quite the experience for a first timer. The rest of the guys were familiar with the process of gaining entrance to a maximum security prison, but it was there that I learned the routine.  I was not allowed to wear a belt. I also couldn't have shoelaces in my shoes since I was not a player. I had to empty my pockets and take off all jewelry. Everything got locked in a locker and then I had to be wanded.

I had been warned about all of that so it wasn't a big deal. The disconcerting part was when they opened a door so I could enter a vestibule.

It was small.

Like a small closet.

The door slammed closed behind me and I waited for what seemed like an eternity for the door in front of me to open. Of course, unlike the guys our team would be playing; I knew it would reopen for me in just a few hours to walk back out.

Now I had a ton of fun on those outings. I typically sat in the bleachers and talked with the inmates; who were always thrilled to have "outsiders" come to visit. The other inmates invariably cheered for our team since the team on the court had beaten their team already to win the right to play against us. There was no love lost between them.

I spent the game cheering on our team and talking with the guys around me. I gave spiritual counsel if it was asked, but mostly I just spent time with them.

Due to scheduling conflicts we were faced with a situation where we only had five players available for one game. The coach asked me to get in uniform and sit on the bench to at least give the impression that we had a sub. He promised that I would not have to enter the game unless someone fouled out.

I'm sure our opponents that night were hoping and praying that I would be in the game as they watched our warm ups. I'm quite sure I could still stickhandle a puck while skating circles around them on the ice, but this was basketball on a court.

I can't shoot.

I can't pass.

I can't even run and dribble without looking down at the ball the whole time.

I gave the guys a pep talk before the game; strongly admonishing them that no one was allowed to foul out.

Well, like I said before, the prison teams were quite good. Our guys were gassed as the game progressed. My "teammates," and I use that word VERY loosely, were waving at me to check in at the scoring table to give them a break.

NO WAY!!! Coach promised I would only have to sit on the bench unless someone fouled out and you didn't foul out!!!

They begged and pleaded during time outs, but I was TERRIFIED - not because our opponents were prisoners because that didn't bother me at all. I was terrified because these guys seemed to have eight foot vertical leaping ability and would make me look like a member of the Washington Generals (the team the Harlem Globetrotters beat up every night). There was no way I was going to step foot on that court while there was a chance the clock might actually be running and I might be expected to do something other than take a stupid foul because I don't even know the rules.

Nope. Wasn't going to happen!

The prison team figured out pretty fast that we really didn't have any subs. They had a great laugh about how my "teammates" were just going to have to get it done without me.

Some of them even thanked me for staying on the bench!

I'm sure it was because they were afraid of what this short, stocky white guy who couldn't shoot, pass or dribble would do to them. Despite my "teammates" pleading and cajoling, I managed to stay in my spot on a wonderfully comfortable folding metal chair!

We still won, so the only damage that came from my fear of stepping on the court was that our five guys were completely wiped out by the end of the game. They laughed about it in the van on the way back home and even joked that I may have been the only basketball "player" in history to be high-fived and thanked by the opponents for my stellar contribution to their game plan.

Fortunately, the coach never had to ask me to sit on the bench again. I continued my "career" with the church basketball team in the safety of the bleachers; talking with the inmates and cheering on my team.