A long time ago, when I was growing up in the ragged streets of the eastern Toronto neighbourhood of Scarborough, basketball used to be the passion that consumed most of my thoughts and much of my waking hours. Whether it was playing pick-up with my friends in recess of elementary school, going to the Y to run scrimmage with the talent du jour, or having the neighbourhood kids visit me to shoot around on my sloped asphalt driveway I always wanted to play long after the sun had set and the other children had left. I grew up on those courts learning the values that have formed the foundation of my being: hard work, determination, trust and of course respect. After reading a poignant
article in the NY times that really resonated with me, I was overcome with a sense of nostalgia for those days long gone. Looking back on those warm summer nights I remember vividly the diversity of the faces of my adversaries and team-mates: filipino, egyptian, irish, chinese, indian, caribbean and only now realize the truly international flavour of it all. In those days, I don't remember discerning these people based on the colour of their skin - the only thought I had was of wanting to beat them. Yet it was on those court in which the future of our global society was playing itself out, the convergence of a wide spectrum of cultures living in a democratic state. The extraordinary feeling of swishing a 3 or blowing past a defender on the way to the basket had a sense of exhiliration that was mesmerizing to all those who experienced it. For me, basketball was and still is the beautiful game.