|
Black Men Can't Shoot by Scott N. Brooks |
|
|
|
Tuesday, 24 April 2012 |
...a New Tuesday ...a New Basketball eBook eBA DVICE !
 |
Black Men Can't Shoot
By Scott N. Brooks
Black Men Can’t Shoot provides an ethnographic account of the lives of
two young black men—Ray and Jermaine—as they work to become “known” as great
ball players, and the implications of their doing so for their life chances.
The book is based on field research Professor Brooks conducted in Philadelphia, as a coach, mentor
and friend, over a four-year period. |
It is a clearly written, accessible and compelling
sociological story about social networks, opportunity structures, and the setbacks and
successes that characterize adolescence, perhaps especially urban adolescence.
BMCS is
a very good book.
Click on 'Read more...'
to read the complete review and full excerpts of this Book ! And ...!
You'll can also browse this book
in a Google Books 'limited preview' ! |
 |
The Role of Old Heads
An excerpt from
'Black Men Can’t Shoot' by Scott N. Brooks
Relationships formed on the playground often are distinctive and remarkable, most notably, relationships between older and younger men, “old heads” and “young bulls.” Old heads are
important as supporters, role models, and/or coaches because they teach, encourage, praise, and provide support for younger players. Jermaine described old heads in this way:
“It’s like, it’s like certain people like respect [an old head] … it’s a respect thing. You call them an old head, it’s like, nah’imean [you know what I mean] … you admire their game.
Or you call them old head, they older than you, nah’imean.” There are some instances where old heads perform different functions, as Jermaine explained in his relationships:
You got different ones, it depends, like, my old head, I still got the same one, but some of them come and go. Like, most of them, they get locked up or something, they stop playing
basketball or whatever or they really don’t care … they just there 'cause they think you gonna go to the League (NBA) or something like that. That’s how most of them is.
But the whole thing about me is, where I’m from, I’m more like the underrated player. So I really don’t have a lot of old heads like everybody else do. I only have like two old heads,
and they really just play [with me] and they push me. But everybody else, I mean, they got like thousands and they get money [from them]. If they need something, they just buy
something, they there for them. And I don’t really got that [an old head relationship like this] and that’s what pushed me real hard 'cause I’m trying to get where they at, like if
I need sneaks or something, I call somebody and they give it to me, and I can’t really do that right now. They mostly come and go, but there’s different types of old heads.
You got a old head like you respect him, whatever, or the old head you just say it 'cause he older than you and show him respect, but you got a couple of old heads, they just there for
you, no matter [what], whenever you need something, you in trouble, you need a ride to a game, they there for you. So there’s different types. You use it [the term “old head”]
in different meanings.
Old heads often become friends with younger men who show promise, “taking [them] on.” “Taking a kid on” suggests that an old head is tied to a young bull and has a close relationship
offering emotional, financial, or other types of support or resources when necessary. They come in different forms. Coaches, mentors, and instructors can be old heads, and their
personal success and experience in basketball increases the amount of technical assistance they can give. But drug dealers can be old heads too, attracted by being associated with a
local celebrity who might later “make it.”
They can mentor through warning and turn younger men away from the street because of the potential to do something great and legitimate,
or they can exploit players through gambling. They stage one-on-one games between players or bet on games, choosing their young bull or his team to win. Money is often central to
this relationship, as drug dealers can support and subsidize a young ball player. Repayment may be necessary and made explicit. After purchasing several pairs of basketball shoes
for Ray, one old head asked him to sign a handwritten contract to be repaid $10,000 if he made it to the NBA. |
A Saturday Moring At Espy
An excerpt from
'Black Men Can’t Shoot' by Scott N. Brooks
Jermaine and Ray’s relationship developed because they were neighbors close in age, but intensified with their shared basketball experiences and dedication to becoming known basketball
players. They went to their local playground, Espy, daily to practice shooting, play games, and check in with others. Playing in their neighborhood, on courts they considered their
home courts, was where they felt safest and could play with familiarity. Jermaine and Ray knew who would be there, the rules of the court, when the regulars played, and their status
position among friends. They played on the same team whenever possible, feeling that their friendship and knowledge of each other was a definite advantage. They pushed each other to
improve and to earn local reputations as players.
One spring Saturday morning, I watched Jermaine and Ray play at Espy playground. They were warming up with others, trying their best to take turns shooting. It was important to make
shots because players return the ball to a shooter after a made shot, but misses are rebounded and shot by whoever gets the rebound. Jermaine practiced jump shots and “finger roll”
layups. He looked to see if it was clear for him to shoot, to avoid his ball hitting another ball being shot at the same time. Jermaine would dribble hard to the basket, lunge, and
then jump up toward the basket, one leg leading, while cradling the ball in his right arm.
As he rose in the air and neared the rim, he lifted the ball up in one fell swoop until it
was just above the rim. Jermaine rolled the ball down his hand, and with a light flip of his wrist, the ball hopped from his fingertips and through the rim. These moves were rehearsals
for his eventual performance. Jermaine was considered a jumper, and it was important for him to test his legs and show his jumping ability, that he had “ups” or “bunnies,” just as Ray
practiced jump shots because he was known as a shooter. These shows could intimidate opposing players and encourage teammates.
Someone yelled, “Let’s go,” and the players moved into their positions. Those who were about to play in the first game took their last practice shots and went through their stretching
and warm-up rituals: running in place, jumping up and down, touching their toes, and standing on one leg, while grabbing and pulling their other leg behind them. Those who were not
playing sat down or moved to a side court.
Ray and Jermaine were playing with Marcus, Jackson, and one other man. Ray had missed on “shooting for firsts [or outs]”—the shot that is taken to determine which team gets the first
offensive possession—so the other team started with the ball. Marcus directed Ray and Jermaine on defense by pointing to spots on the court where they should be. Marcus had two
goals—to win and for the boys to learn something they would need for high school basketball.
At Espy the regulars play a two-three zone defense, which means that the defenders guard a specific area of the court. Two players are set about ten feet in front of the basket they
are defending, and their other three teammates are in positions three feet in front of the basket. Both sets of defenders form horizontal lines parallel to the basket. Playing zone
defense is not typical playground basketball. On most other playgrounds in the city, man-to-man defense is the rule. In man-to-man defense, each player guards a particular individual
on the opposing team, one that they choose or are instructed to guard. This prevents confusion, because each player is only responsible for defending one competitor.
A zone defense, however, requires awareness, coordination, trust, and players who share an understanding of what their teammates are going to do in certain situations. Zone defenses are territorial,
and individuals are expected to cover a range that is constantly in flux. Marcus’s special directions to Jermaine and Ray illustrate this: “Jermaine, you got down low, the center.
Don’t let them pass the ball in the middle. [Then looking to Ray] Ray, you play up top with me. If a man has the ball, you got to guard him until he give it up [passes the ball],
then you rotate back, all right?”
Ray was supposed to move with the player as long as they had the ball, Marcus said, and then he was to move back to his spot when the player gave up the ball. While Ray guarded the
player that was out of his spot, Marcus would be covering Ray’s spot, and when Ray moved back, Marcus would return to his own spot. They had to trust each other to move to the right
place at the right time, and they had to be aware of any movement by opposing players.
Jermaine was told to be in the center of the court close to the basket, and to make sure that
players on the opposing team did not get the ball in the middle of the zone. Marcus’s directions aligned the team’s efforts. If each person was clear on his role, there would be no
confusion among teammates or breakdowns in communication that would allow the other team to get an open shot or easy basket.
Jermaine was tested as soon as the game began. An opposing player darted to the center of the zone defense, and Jermaine moved to prevent the pass into the player. He was too late and
the player caught the ball. Jermaine crowded the player with his arms outstretched to deter him from trying to shoot or drive to the basket. Jermaine’s actions worked; the player passed
the ball.
Marcus coached Jermaine and Ray on offense, as well. When Jermaine grabbed a rebound after the opposing team missed a shot, Marcus yelled, “Look up!” Jermaine looked up the court and
threw the ball to Ray, who out-sprinted the opposing team down to the other basket and scored.
On this particular Saturday, their team won four games in a row, before losing one. They played well and Marcus had guided Ray and Jermaine throughout, telling them where they should
be, what they should do, and encouraging them (mostly Ray) to shoot and be tougher.
Marcus and Jackson shot the most, and they scored most of the team’s points. Jackson was a gunner, meaning he shot a lot and rarely passed. He took shots while two people guarded him.
He drove to the basket, where the other team had their three players in a zone, and tried to shoot over the bigger guys. Jackson also had breakdowns on defense. Instead of being in a
good position to prevent easy scores, he reached after the ball a few times to jar it loose from an opposing player’s hands, often letting the opposing player drive for an easy basket
when he was unable to steal the ball.
None of his teammates said anything, and no one seemed upset that he had played poor defense or had not passed the ball. Jackson was respected for
his scoring ability, and therefore his teammates deferred to him, allowing him to shoot the ball whenever he pleased and to play poor defense with no backlash. The silence from other
teammates when Jackson played poorly illustrated the team’s hierarchy, the roles of different individuals, and that they all understood the code of conduct.
On the other hand, Jackson criticized Jermaine for taking a difficult shot and missing it. The score was tied eleven to eleven—the game ends when one team scores twelve. Up to that
point, Jermaine had not taken a lot of shots. He was set up near the basket and Ray passed him the ball. Jermaine received the pass with his back to the basket, quickly jumped, and
shot the ball without seeing the basket, turning 180 degrees in the air as he shot. Unfortunately, his defender jumped at the same time and blocked the shot.
“What are you doing? I was open. Damn!” Jackson said as he trotted back on defense. Jermaine pouted and said, “That’s the only shot I took all game.” It was a costly shot. The other
team scored the go-ahead basket and won. Jermaine’s shot was inappropriate, according to Jackson, and no one challenged Jackson’s view. Jermaine did not have the status to take a shot
and miss when it could mean winning or losing the game.
By taking his shot at that moment, he defied convention and the hierarchy that the team had been following. Had Jermaine made
the basket, Jackson most likely would not have criticized him. Instead, he may have given Jermaine “props” (praise or respect) for taking the shot at such an important time and making
it. The last shot is an important shot, usually reserved for those of high status. The team had to sit down to wait for another opportunity to play, which usually was a long wait.
The team was organized according to how much each player’s scoring ability was recognized. Essentially, it was predetermined who should shoot. Jackson and Marcus had the “green light,”
or freedom to shoot whenever they wanted, without suffering any repercussions or upsetting the others. Ray was allowed some freedom to shoot because he was known for his age and was
considered a good shooter. Jermaine and the other teammate—five on five is played at Espy—were lowest on the totem pole. They knew that they were expected to assume supporting roles.
One had to have a preexisting status (as a known player or thug) or had to work hard to gain the respect of others before being given the right to shoot freely.
Higher-status
individuals are expected by others to monopolize the ball and get the most shots; therefore they are typically the leading scorers even when they shoot a low percentage. Moreover,
they typically receive little blame, relative to their amount of responsibility. Importantly though, a person’s status is not simply a static label that, once achieved, requires no
further effort. Rather, achieving and retaining status is a dynamic process. It demands constant attention because status differences between people inform expectations and
interactions. This is not always settled—there are people with ambition, hoping to improve their status.
Synopsis
The myth of the natural black athlete is widespread, though it's usually only talked about when a sports commentator or celebrity embarrasses himself by bringing it up in public.
Those gaffes are swiftly decried as racist, but apart from their link to the long history of ugly racial stereotypes about black people - especially men - they are also harmful because
they obscure very real, hard-fought accomplishments.
As
Black Men Can't Shoot demonstrates, such successes on the basketball court don't just happen because of natural gifts -
instead, they grow out of the long, tough, and unpredictable process of becoming a known player. Scott N. Brooks spent four years coaching summer league basketball in Philadelphia.
And what he saw, heard, and felt working with the young black men on his team tells us much about how some kids are able to make the extraordinary journey from the ghetto to the NCAA.
To show how good players make the transition to greatness, Brooks tells the story of two young men, Jermaine and Ray, following them through their high school years and chronicling
their breakthroughs and frustrations on the court as well as their troubles at home. We witness them negotiating the pitfalls of forging a career and a path out of poverty, we see
their triumphs and setbacks, and we hear from the network of people - their families, the neighborhood elders, and Coach Brooks himself - invested in their fates.
Black Men Can't Shoot has all the hallmarks of a classic sports book, with a climactic championship game and a suspenseful ending as we wait to find out if Jermaine and Ray will be
recruited. Brooks's moving coming-of-age story counters the belief that basketball only exploits kids and lures them into following empty dreams - and shows us that by playing ball,
some of these young black men have already begun their education even before they get to college.
Would You Want to Browse and Look Inside
'Black Men Can't Shoot' by Scott N. Brooks
in an Amazon Books 'Limited Preview' ?
Praises for:
'Black Men Can't Shoot' by Scott N. Brooks
"... Brooks (sociology, Univ. of California at Riverside), having studied under and been inspired by the highly esteemed Elijah Anderson at the University of Pennsylvania, provides
an ethnographic description of recreational basketball in South Philadelphia. A self-professed frustrated former high school basketball player (he blames himself and his former coach
for his shortcomings), the author looks at the hopes and dreams of young inner-city black men he coached who aspired to play ball professionally. In true sociological tradition,
he presents detailed information on members of the famed Blade Rodgers Neighborhood Development League, based on interviews with these athletes, their families, coaches, and other
locals.
While focusing on two athletes in particular, Brooks educates readers about a number of "street" realities (e.g., the daily struggle for survival and basketball viewed as
a way out of the ghetto). Demystifying certain racial stereotypes, Brooks explains that even God-given skills must be developed through hard work and dedication. His book is a
worthy ethnographic text and is recommended especially for students of sports sociology. ..."
Tim Delaney, SUNY at Oswego
"... Scott was an average high school basketball player, but Black Men Can’t Shoot is an all-star book. I couldn’t put it down. It cracked me up, put me on edge, and reminded me
why I love this game—Chuck, Jermaine, and Ray, the old heads and the young bulls. It’s about the people. ...”
Jason Kidd, nine-time NBA All-Star
“... This is a smart and authentic book. It not only captures the feel of Philadelphia high school basketball; it provides acute and accurate insight into the minds of players.
Although I’m on the other side, I learned something. Most importantly, it’s a moving story that stays with you. ...”
Fran Dunphy, Head Coach, Temple University
“... Brooks makes clear how contingent the fate of these young men is on the step-by-step negotiation of multiple career steps and how many ways there are to fail. But he also offers
a bright note to counter the endless tales of misery from the ghetto by showing us how many second and third and fourth chances there are to recover what seemed to be lost. Black
Men Can’t Shoot is compelling—you really want to know what will happen next, and I don’t think anyone who starts to read this book will put it down until they get to the end. ...”
Howard S. Becker, author of Outsiders: Studies In The Sociology Of Deviance
“... 'Black Men Can’t Shoot' is carefully observed, ethnographically rich, and conceptually sophisticated—an original work of importance that provides a powerful eye on the world of black
ghetto youth today. A must read for anyone wishing to understand. ...”
Elijah Anderson, author of Streetwise: Race, Class, and Change in an Urban Community
“... Brooks represents Philly well. It’s clear that he not only sat on the bench—he learned some things. His writing is right on the money. It took me back to my playing days and the
relationships I’ve developed through basketball. From the gym to the playgrounds and uptown, Brooks lets you know what Philly ball is all about. ...”
Lionel Simmons, third all-time
“... In this vivid depiction of the urban reality of grassroots basketball, Scott Brooks exhibits an insider’s passion for the game, broad and deep knowledge of the local history
and social context, and a real feel for the significance of basketball in Philly’s black community. Along with offering important ideas about the relationship between race and
sports, Black Men Can’t Shoot is packed with genuine drama and intrigue making it one of those rare books that are both insightful and truly engaging. ...”
Douglas Hartmann, author of
Race, Culture, and the Revolt of the Black Athlete: The 1968 Olympic Protests and Their Aftermath
“... [Brooks] looks at the hopes and dreams of young inner-city black men he coached who aspired to play ball professionally. In true sociological tradition, he presents detailed
information on members of the famed Blade Rodgers Neighborhood Development League, based on interviews with these athletes, their families, coaches, and other locals. While focusing
on two athletes in particular, Brooks educates readers about a number of ‘street’ realities (e.g., the daily struggle for survival and basketball viewed as a way out of the ghetto).
Demystifying certain racial stereotypes, Brooks explains that even God-given skills must be developed through hard work and dedication. His book is a worthy ethnographic text. ...”
Library Journal
"... Readers are taken into the world of two young basketball players battling the constraints of urban poverty and the subsequent challenges associated with using basketball as a means
to rise above these constraints. . . . Brooks was able to gain access to a world that few outsiders experience or understand. Rich, detailed descriptions of events and settings,
along with significant quotes by the players, coaches, parents, and other influential individuals in the young men''s lives, lend credibility and validity to the ethnography''s
findings. ...”
Choice
"... A very entertaining, in depth look at the high school basketball scene in the Philadelphia area. . . . Basketball allows these kids to dream--it allows them to consider that they
might have a future other than hanging out on the street corner. Consider it documentation of the transformative effects of hoops. ..."
Jeff Fox Hoops Manifesto
Table of Contents:
Jermaine and Ray
Becoming a basketball player
Getting known through networks and exposure
Playing school ball
Old heads and young bulls
A Saturday morning at Espy
The heart of the playground
Chuck breaks them down
Gotta want it "like that"
Playing uptown
Some fall off
Bringing 'em back and putting it all together
The chip
The glow but reality of success
Ray vs. Green
Playing everywhere
Can't look poor
Implosion
Moving north
Learning other stuff
A star is born; another is still waiting
Politics and "pub(licity)"
Getting in (school) and getting out (of the hood)
Being used
About the Author:
Scott N. Brooks
Scott N. Brooks is assistant professor of sociology at the University of California, Riverside.
With the NBA in the midst of a labor disagreement, players from the world’s premier basketball league are scattering in different directions to maintain their skills (and get paid).
This past summer, a number of NBA players returned to their roots, so to speak, by playing in summer leagues in places like DC, LA, New York, and Baltimore. For many black players
who grew up in big cities, summer leagues were the place where they first learned basketball, under the watchful eyes of older men who had also played the game—and made names for
themselves—on the same courts.
Scott N. Brooks spent four years coaching youth basketball in one of these leagues in South Philadelphia, bringing the perspective of a sociologist to this institution of inner-city
neighborhoods. The book based on his experiences and his research, Black Men Can’t Shoot (University of Chicago Press, 2009), follows two of the league’s young players, Jermaine and
Ray, as they learn the game, develop their skills, and work to “get known” in the world of Philadelphia basketball. As Scott explains in the interview, “getting known” is a complicated
and demanding process of gaining status on the court and in the community. Like athletes in other sports, young basketball players like Jermaine and Ray seek to get the attention of
scouts and recruiters by participating in multiple leagues, traveling teams, and regional tournaments. But “getting known” in South Philly basketball is about much more than
a coveted college scholarship. Being a known player brings social prestige at school and the protection and patronage of older men in the neighborhood, the chorus of elders known
as “old heads.” Attaining this status, Scott explains, is not a matter of simple ability, the so-called natural athleticism of blacks. Instead, it is the product of disciplined work,
careful networking, and study of the game.
Scott’s book is not about the hoop dreams of Jermaine and Ray. Instead, it is about hoop reality—about basketball as part of the social fabric of an inner-city neighborhood and the
ways that black men, young and old, use the game to improve their personal situations and better their communities.
Click here to check ALL the BOOKS & eBOOKS by ( or about )
Scott N. Brooks
UPDATED to
• Author:
Scott N. Brooks
• Format: eBook & Book
• Book Edition Number of Pages: 368 ~ 10 x 7.8 x 0.8 inches
• File Size: 1776 KB
• Browse Duration in Minutes: 60
• Wireless Delivery: Included within a minute of placing your order
• Simultaneous Device Usage: Unlimited
• Lending: Enabled
• Text-to-Speech: Enabled
• Publisher: ReadHowYouWant ~ First edition
• Publishing Date: NEW ON April 12, 2012
• eBook Edition: NEW ON April 12, 2012
• Book Edition Binding: Paperback
• Book Edition Shipping Weight: 1.9 pounds
• Language: English
• Also available: In the classic paperback edition
|
... more 
info at ...
|
To see the Basketball Book eBA DVICE in Spanish:
Un Nuevo Martes... Un Nuevo Libro Recomendado por eBA ...
Read more about eBADVICES in English and Spanish
in the eBooks, Books & DVD Sections of ...
the
eBA Portal, the Blogs,
the eBA Store,
and at the eBA Library
|
|
Last Updated ( Wednesday, 02 May 2012 )
|
|
DIRECTLY from ...
