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NYT Article: Teens take on the lockout
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By NICHOLE M. CHRISTIAN
EW YORK -- On a nippy November afternoon, when he would
ordinarily be leaping toward
the net of a basketball rim trying to imitate the
aerodynamic glide of his hero, Michael Jordan,
11-year-old Jonathan Figueroa grimaced at the mention of
basketball.
Instead, the once aspiring point guard was transforming the
Goat Courts at 99th Street and
Amsterdam Avenue -- one of New York City's most hallowed hoops
grounds -- into an asphalt
baseball field. And with repeated swings of his wooden bat, he
tried to forget ever having loved
Jordan or professional basketball, which he says is so "messed
up"in a labor dispute that fans like
him have been pushed to the sidelines.
"Basketball is dead," Jonathan declared, continuing to swipe
the air with his bat. "The players only
really care about getting a lot of money. I don't care if it
ever comes back. It's all about baseball
now."
By the calendar at least, basketball loyalists like Jonathan
should be tethered to their televisions,
trying to glimpse the latest moves, newest phenoms and hottest
highlights of the National Basketball
Association. But this season, a high-stakes labor battle
between the NBA's more than 400 players
and 29 team owners has already canceled 194 games in November
and is threatening to call off the
entire schedule. The two sides are at odds over how best to
split up basketball's billion-dollar
revenue base. The players want 60 percent; the owners are
offering 50.
On the basketball courts and public playgrounds of New York
City, which have launched legions of
basketball dreamers -- and more than a few NBA stars --
hard-core fans of all ages are directing
sharp words at both the players and the owners. While almost
no one is well-versed or even
particularly interested in the details of the day-to-day
negotiations, many fans say they have heard
enough to know this much: Basketball is disintegrating into a
game of greed.
As in many urban areas across the country, basketball has long
been more than just a sport in New
York. It has also been a way for young people in poor,
isolated neighborhoods to grasp at
America's modern pastime: success, and the wealth that comes
along with it. But as with other such
pursuits, it has a heartbreaking trail of disappointments --
none better known in New York than that
of Earl (the Goat) Manigault, for whom the Amsterdam court is
named. Manigault became a local
legend for his ability to defy gravity on the court, but a
heroin addiction spoiled his chances of
pursuing a professional career.
So perhaps the NBA impasse has a particularly sharp resonance
on the city's concrete playgrounds,
where those who sweat and dream of an NBA career and its
comforts feel betrayed by the few who
have made it.
Players at the famed West Fourth Street Courts in Manhattan
recently joked about the predicament
of Kenny Anderson, a former point guard for the New Jersey
Nets. Anderson said recently that he
may have to sell one of his eight luxury cars now that he is
unable to collect his $5.8 million salary
from his new team, the Boston Celtics.
Anderson, who also has homes in New York and Los Angeles and a
fledgling entertainment
company, told The New York Times that he spends $75,000 a year
on the upkeep of his cars and is
currently losing $76,000 for every game that he does not play.
"Its insulting," said Stephen Breslin, 15, a West Fourth
Street regular. "They can go out and buy a
whole bunch of cars and apartments and we're supposed to feel
bad. Get real. Even the ones who
make only a couple hundred thousand still have it better than
most people out here. I don't have no
sympathy for either side."
Some basketball devotees have so distanced themselves from the
NBA's troubles that they had to
be reminded that the official start of the season came and
went this week.
Last year, Eddo Smalls, 16, spent his time and money
collecting memorabilia related to his role
models, Penny Hardaway of the Orlando Magic and Shaquille
O'Neal of the Los Angeles Lakers.
But the two have now been dethroned by the likes of "Big Sexy
Kevin Nash" and "Stone Cold Steve
Austin," starts from the world of professional wrestling.
"Wrestling is the last pure sport," Eddo said. They don't have
big NBA egos, everything they do is
for the fans."
Officials at the NBA say they are painfully aware of the
damage the lockout is doing to the public
perception of the game. "We know the lockout is not doing
anything to endear us to fans," said Brian
McIntyre, a spokesman for the league. "But we have an economic
system that is not working and if
left unaddressed would only get worse."
McIntrye said some teams lost so much money during last year's
regular season because of player
salaries and benefits that this year's lockout is actually
saving money. Officials for the National
Basketball Players Association union did not return telephone
calls to their office.
But like the baseball strike of 1994-95 -- when fans vowed to
turn their back on the game but
returned en masse by this year -- the grousing over the
basketball impasse is most likely to be
fleeting.
Gregory Rose, a 27-year-old NBA fan and amateur player, said
he is mourning the loss of
basketball. "I'm hurting," he said. "Right now, I'm supposed
to be in front of my TV rooting for the
Bulls."
And others like Derek Pilgrim, 31, a friend of Rose's, said
the team owners were at fault. "Blaming
the players is crazy. Basketball is a business now. Players
know their careers probably won't last 10,
20 years like they used to, so they have to look out for
themselves just like the owners are doing."
At the Brownsville Recreation Center in Brooklyn, all the talk
about salaries and sticking points was
lost on the nearly three dozen children who gather each season
in front of a 52"colored television to
watch NBA games. So far this year, the children have had to
settle for sitting in the gym and
watching amateurs mimic the moves of their favorite NBA
players.
"I don't think it's fair," 12-year-old Rykeem Robinson said as
he lay sprawled out over the gym's
bleachers, only half watching a loud, sweaty game between six
men. "On TV its better than this. If
the players weren't selfish, we could be watching a real
game."
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