There is something remarkably compelling about high school basketball. The characters on the court and in the stands, the plot, the conflicts, the cathartic cleansing; they all help to write a story, which is equal parts Greek tragedy and social commentary. The people who supply the color are, most often, the coaches who can imprint themselves indelibly on the collective sports psyche.
On a frigid Sunday afternoon, my 16-year-old son and I were at Watervliet High School for a Coaches vs. Cancer tournament in support of a worthy cause. The place was mobbed. We stood at the railing above the court, able to hear everything, especially the vernacular of coach-speak.
Brian Fruscio, the Albany Academy boys' basketball coach, was at once teaching and coaching. His facial expressions changed by the second. He worked the sidelines, the refs and the crowd. Green Tech's coach, Jamil Hood Sr., always serious, demonstrative, bounded out of his chair nearly running over an official as he called a timeout. Tremendous athleticism exhibited by players. Tremendous passion exhibited by the coaches.
I began thinking about how many great teachers, strategists, motivators, manipulators I had seen over the years, and how every so often we're reminded it isn't all fun and games. It's wins and losses, too, especially when so much is riding on a kid's basketball ability. There are 32 minutes on the clock, or 160 minutes of playing time, to be divided among hungry teenage boys. Competition.
The brinksmanship and the frenetic pace continued. But, just like that, it was over. The energy in the building consumed. The coaches glanced at the scoreboard and graciously shook hands. Another game in a couple of days and another chance to supply the color one more time.
Bob Generali lives in Delmar. He has been an educator and sports fan for many years.