Heaven is a Playground in D.C.

Some background: Growing up in Washington D.C. is a little bizarre. It’s hailed as one of the most diverse cities in the country, and technically speaking that’s true. But in reality, it’s sort of a segregated place. The city’s 80% black, but walking around Northwest D.C., where I grew up, you’d have no idea.

Stephen Colbert encapsulated as much during his legendary speech at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner. Chocolate city is really more like a smores sandwich—a little white marshmallow, surrounded by chocolate. I grew up in the marshmallow, which Drew Magary nailed perfectly for Deadspin: “The one decent part of the city, Northwest, is populated exclusively with douchebag lawyers, or douchebags who work on Capitol Hill. All of them wear Madras shorts with blazers in the summer, and all of them deserve to taste your fucking fury.”

Still, the city’s got a long and distinguished sports history, much of which takes place in the other ¾ of the city. So growing up playing and watching sports, my childhood gave me plenty of chances to bridge the gap between race and class.

Soon enough, though, I realized that my future in sports would not be on the field, the court, or any other surface that begets competent athletes, mental fortitude, and toughness. Just never really clicked with me; and my keen understanding of sports only compounded matters, because it meant that I knew how utterly incompetent and disposable I was as an athlete.

Anyway, because I knew I wouldn’t be playing, I shifted my focus from being the best player in the country to following the ones that were. I devoured basketball magazines, football previews, ESPN and Sports Illustrated articles, Outside the Lines specials, Real Sports with Bryant Gumbel—everything. If it was sports related, I read about it--especially when it happened in D.C. And given my voracious habits and what gradually became an obsession with basketball, I read about the Goodman League and this foreign, Barry Farms place, a lot. A lot a lot.

Now, I offer that prelude not as some sort of pseudo memoir for my childhood, but because it explains how I ended up as the only white guy at Barry Farms last night, watching a summer league that’s as legendary as New York’s Entertainer’s Basketball Classic, but serves as only a footnote in a city that governs a country, and doesn’t have the time to check out what’s going on in the shadows of the capital. (Or something like that.)

All summer long, I’ve heard rumors that Kevin Durant’s been playing down at Barry Farms. I’ve spent the previous 5 or 6 years talking about making a trip down there to see the legendary league for myself, but until this summer, I’d never been. Kevin Durant’s presence changed that.

We’re talking about one of the 5 or 6 best basketball players on the planet, and the only person in the NBA with enough talent to perhaps lay claim to the throne that “King James” has occupied in such douchetastic fashion to this point. That a player of Durant’s stature would play in a summer league in his hometown says a lot about his character. Or more specifically, why he’s so awesome.

Douchebag.

So as sort of a pilgrimage, I made the trip a few weeks ago with some friends. Phenomenal. Great basketball, hilarious announcer, fun atmosphere. For a weeknight in D.C., it’s about as good as your going to do for entertainment. Only problem? Durant was a no-show.

Then last night, thanks to the league’s official Twitter account (NEW MEDIA!!!), I learned that Kevin Durant and his Sweatmob team had a playoff game at 7:30. After unsuccessfully lobbying friends to go with me, I dropped my girlfriend off for some dinner with friends, and then on a whim, figured I’d go check it out myself. What an awesome, awesome decision.

Awesome.

The game started at 7:30 but I got there around seven. It wasn't long after I sat down before an old guy sitting next to me asked, "No disrespect, and I'm just curious, but what brought you down to the farms tonight?"

I said, "It's a Monday night in August, I heard Kevin Durant's playing, so I figured why not?"

To which he replied, "That makes you pretty cool guy. I hope you enjoy it. Look, there he go right there. Look at Kevin." And just like that, I looked up and saw lanky ass Kevin Durant goofing off at the scorer's table.

From there, it was time to shift the focus to the games. And easily the best part of the experience is the announcer, Miles Rawls. Not even kidding, I think he join Phil Chenier and Steve Buckhantz on the Wizards broadcast. His running dialogue throughout the game--making fun of the players, the fans, whoever--is hilarious. He also commands endless respect from everyone down there, which makes his schtick that much cooler.

After the earlier game (at 6:30) ended, one of the players kicked the ball out of the park, and rather than lose his cool, Miles announced, "Alright now good game good game, shake hands and hug and do all that, and somebody better go get my Goddamn basketball." More on him later.

As for the game, Kevin Durant is freaking amazing. Ty Lawson also played, and he was impressive, but... Durant is in another world. He hit almost every shot he took, and after the crowd started to boo him and back the heavy underdogs he was playing, his game racheted up (somehow) to a completely different level. He was dominating before, but after some early boos, he was DOMINATING. I can only assume his post-game tweet was in reference to his critics at the Farms.

For some perspective, consider how hard it is to shoot on outdoor basketball courts. I know this from experience, since shooting is pretty much my only redeeming quality as a basketball player, and playing on outdoor courts makes it next to impossible. For the guys at Barry Farms, though, it was automatic. And to do that, you have to be really, really good. So I was impressed.

And watching Kevin Durant hit for what turned out to be 55 points was freaking awesome. He dunked, he hit 28 foot 3s, he hit pull-up midrange jumpers, and he even blocked a few shots. Just unreal. And again, the fact that he was out there playing in a Summer League game says more about his character and love for the game than a meldramatic Lebron James commercial ever could. Fuck a global icon; Kevin Durant plays basketball. Wherever, whenever--and really, really well.

But the coolest part of last night wasn't Durant, the NBA superstar dominating everyone. That was expected. Entertaining as hell, and really cool to see in person, but expected. The coolest part about last night was the kid guarding Durant, and the guy that irrefutably outplayed Ty Lawson. Some 14 year-old kid named "Gary Jr." None of the people I was watching the games with knew who he was beforehand, and there was a lot of speculation about his age before we finally found out he was 14, but damn. He held his own against Kevin Durant.

Kevin Durant and Gary Jr.

He couldn't have weighed more than 140 pounds and his uniform was too big for him, but he could play. Driving to the hoop, playing defense, distributing the ball, hitting from the perimeter--he did everything. 14 years-old. For all the pomp and circumstance of Durant's presence and the cameo from Ty Lawson, Gary Jr. stole the show and had the whole park behind him.

More highlights... Gary Jr. steals the ball from Durant

And really, I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. I went down there because of Durant, but more than that, I wanted to see what made the Goodman League so special. Now I know. Everyone from NBA stars, old street ball vets like "Sweatsuit Phil," college stars like Josh Shelby, to 14 year-old kids that nobody recognizes but manage to hold their own against the best of 'em. Doesn't that sound pretty awesome? I may not have been "Born and raised!" in Barry Farms as the Goodman motto goes, but I'm proud that they're a part of D.C., and there's no question the Farms is going to be part of my summers for years to come.

P.S. In addition to all the players and fans, there's no question that the one guy who makes the Goodman League so singularly awesome is Miles Rawls. His wit and entusiasm make it a whole different experience. It becomes more of a party than a basketball game--and that's awesome. And yes, as the only white guy there, it was inevitable that he'd direct some of that wit at me. Given that he also heckled President Obama, I won't take offense.

I took it well, though, and as I was walking out somebody asked if I'd get a haircut. "Apparently I need one, I mean shit. Myspace CEO can't be walkin around all grimey, right?" The guy laughed and said, "Man that's just Miles. He got jokes and he crazy but he's the best."