Basketball
and rap are kindred spirits. On the vast map of human
consciousness,
basketball and rap are perched on the same brainwave, beating
in
the same chamber of the heart, and living in the same corner of the soul.
Basketball
players and rappers share and draw from the same reservoir of
creative
energy, and reflect each other in an intriguing, harmonious balance
of
mirrors and artistic symbiosis.
Both
are highly urban art-forms, raw expressions of the street and the
black
pavement of the playground. Both can be practiced when alone, and
neither
requires money, either to witness or to participate. Both are often
used
as a means to escape ghetto life. Both are primarily African-American
modes
of expression. Both appear on the surface to be very simple, but
further
examination reveals a nearly endless capacity for self-expression and
improvement
within their respective contexts, an infinity of possibilities
within
very simple confines.
Both
are heavily built around intense demonstrations of personal worth
through
individual exhibitions of bravado and skill. The competitive spirit
that
unravels itself when two rappers battle in freestyling is a beautifully
mutated
reincarnation of the competitive spirit on display at the moment when
a
player calls for the lane to be cleared so he can take his man one on one,
just
to show everyone at the playground that he can. The verbal agility of a
rapper
and the physical grace of a basketball player are two sides of the
same
coin.
Rappers
give props to their favorite basketball players ("I'm slammin'
niggaz
like Shaquil!") while basketball players groove on their headphones in
the
locker room, or to the blasting rap on the PA system played during
warm-ups
before games. In rap videos, rappers are seen wearing the jersey of
the
basketball player of their choice, while select basketball players even
venture
out into the rap world themselves, thus blurring the imaginary line
that
separates basketball from rap. Rappers and basketball players are
therefore
involved in a system in which they directly influence each other,
giving
and taking in a mutually beneficial exchange, and even jumping ship
from
time to time.
Both
place intrinsic value on self-expression, spontaneous creativity,
style,
attitude, courage, trash-talk and improvisation. Both exist in a
constant
state of flux and adjustment, and those who are unable to keep up
with
change are thrown out and rarely discussed again, except with nostalgic
and
ironic mockery ("Remember Vanilla Ice?") Both can be forms of rebellion.
Both
are a young man's game, and each draws undue disapproval from tired, old
squares
for similar reasons ("What's wrong with his hair?")
Both
have regional styles, and the extremely high level of competition in
both
mediums forces all its practitioners to adjust and compensate for the
differences
in them, allowing themselves to be influenced by others in order
to
keep up with a constantly changing game. For example, with the emergence
of
rap from the dirty south, even east coast rappers have had to become more
rhythmic,
combining regional styles in order not to fall behind. Similarly,
basketball
has a West Coast style-- high-flying, high-paced, high-scoring--
that
acts in stark contrast to the East Coast style-- hard-pounding,
slow-paced,
low-scoring, defensive basketball. Varying regional styles
enhance
the performance and appreciation of these two wildly different and at
the
same time strikingly similar art-forms.
Rap
and basketball both have a familiar cast of characters, each of whom
fulfills
a unique role within his peculiar world. For example, there can be
little
doubt that Jason Williams is the Eminem of basketball. The role that
Eminem
plays in the rap world is the same role that Jason Williams plays in
the
equally cultured and artistic world of basketball. Both are white
performers
in a primarily black medium. Both have uncanny and individualized
flavor
and skill. And perhaps the main similarity between these two is that
the
people focusing on their race tend to be white people, not blacks. Eminem
said
that the "white" magazines like Rolling Stone and Spin pay incessant
attention
to his whiteness, while "black" magazines like Vibe and the Source
just
treat him like a rapper. Similarly, at the risk of generalizing, based
on
personal experience it appears to be black people who are most dazzled
and
entranced
by Jason Williams' behind-the-back, no-look passes, while it
appears
to be white people who are complaining that he's just an annoying
wigger
who creates too many turnovers. Therefore, they even serve the same
role
in exposing the racial inconsistencies in our society. Eminem and Jason
Williams
indeed drink from the same cosmic wellspring.
But,
then again, I guess there are always exceptions to any rule. John
Stockton
and rap don't exactly mix. Rap is tough, flashy, and resides on a
street
corner in the city. John Stockton is traditional, fundamental, and
resides
in Utah.
