The Story Behind "The Game"

This poem is about the basketball games that my son, Gareth, and I used to play out the front of our house when we lived in Marangaroo, a suburb about twenty five minutes north of Perth, Western Australia.

There were some of Gareth's mates living across the road in a corner house and they used to gang up on me in a game of basketball from time to time. Of course they were all little tackers, and beside the basic rules, we made up our own; as needed. Two I can think of, were, and this was because of the height difference between me and the tackers: I don't block them when they are going for a shot... but they had to yell "SHOOTING", and, on rebounds, I had to let the ball hit the ground before making a grab.

The hoop was at the top of the drive, and the drive sloped down toward the house, with a lavender garden bed on one side. So if you were throwing from the downhill side, the hoop was way higher than the regulation 10' and you had to compensate.

Incidentally, and this brings an ironic smile to my lips, we moved house and a friend of mine said he would buy the hoop and save me the cost of advertising. He was going to buy one himself, you see, and the $125 I was going to charge him was about a third the price of a new one. Only one problem... We had to dig it out of the ground first. So! Off and get a trailer, and let's get it out.
When we originally cemented it in place, we made it so it wasn't going move... that was the plan; it was not going to move or lean. So, Johnny (the guy that helped me install it in the first place), my friend who was buying it, and I, was just a bit perplexed as to why the thing wouldn't budge. Of course the 1/3cu. m. of concrete we put around the base didn't have anything to do with it, did it? So what to do? Well there was only one thing to do, and that was, unhitch the trailer, tie a rope to the tow ball, and pull it gently out of the hole using the power of the wagon.

My last words to my two "helpers" were, "Hey watch it fellas, don't let it come down and hit the car." Well, I just knew what was going to happen. And the dent in the roof of the wagon cost $250 to fix. So for that basketball hoop we pulled a bad deficit.

Now before we get to the poem, and I know that this is turning into a ramble, but it has to be told. We had a little Jack Russell come Pomeranian cross named Buffy. He stood about the same height as a Jack Russell but he had a beautifully soft face, a bit like the Luck Dragon in Never Ending Story. Well he had a way of bringing the most serious and hard fought game to a standstill when he started humping the lavender bushes that lined the drive. Yep! They were about dog size, and nicely rounded, and here was this little buff coloured thing going for his life. Now you can imagine the effect that had on the kids, can't you? We just couldn't have a serious game after that.

Now I can hear you asking yourself - "Why on earth would a dog hump a lavender bush?" Sounds crazy! And get this... he had a zero tattooed in his left ear, and so, in a manner of speaking, his pockets were empty, and that sort of act perpetrated on even the most curvaceous lavender bush, should not even have entered his little doggy mind.

There are reasons behind simply everything, though, and this went back to when we doggy sat a friends Dachshund. Gus the Dachshund was hung like a single tyned ripper as would be towed behind a huge tractor. Now stump rippers don't usually come as single tynes, usually three or more, but you get the picture. And as the size of his equipment was, so was his preoccupation.

We gave up fighting him off Buffy after the first week. Buffy, virginal Buffy, seemed to be coping and able to defend himself. Al least, he was faster than Gus. Not only did Gus have little Dachshund legs, but, like a racehorse that is handicapped with lead weights when racing, Gus had this huge appendage that slowed his running style quite considerably.

Well, wouldn't you know it? Sometime into the second week, Buffy gave up running, and the tables were turned; a clear example of learned behaviour. So here we were, treated to the amazing spectacle of these two dogs running themselves ragged, running in circles, like a dog chasing its own tail, trying to climb on the others hind quarters. Neither would give up, and neither clearly won the contest.

Gus came and went, but the learned behaviour stayed... lavender bushes can't run, and they can't hide.

Anyway, here's the poem...

The Game

There stood out front, and boasting hard the two opposing teams
There was Gareth, Chad and Cameron with faces mighty mean
The other side was just as bold, but stood there just one man
It was dad in business shirt and tie with basket ball in hand

“Who’s to start” we argued and the choice came down to shots
“The first to get a foul line score when the other side does not”
That important matter settled, the game could now begin
The three determined shorties felt for sure that they would win

Fast and furious was the pace as each ball found the net
The rules were altered constantly and dad’s business shirt was wet
There were long shots, short shots, jumps and fades and tricky footwork too
And lots of stops for passing cars and neighbours not a few

After fifteen rugged minutes of the struggle to and fro
The boys were one point from a win and then came dad’s free throw
He took the shot from centre court just by the lavender bed
The shot described a perfect arc and hit nothing but the net

So now the scores were all tied up at twenty points each team
The boys foreboding silence caused dad’s sweaty eyes to gleam
Cameron threw in from the side a tricky pass to Chad
He passed it on to Gareth but it was snatched away by dad


A short sharp dribble in the key an underarm upload
Saw the ball bounce off the board and roll on to the road
Old Mr Clancy driving by was waving as he sang
And the scores were still at twenty all when the basketball went BANG!