Ahh! The good old days! Mmm....maybe not. The summer of 65, or was it 66? I had suddenly grown to 6'3", and learned how to dunk. Our East Harlem team was playing in a summer Basketball tournament held at Mt. Morris Park in Harlem. We were a young confident average team that held its own.
This particular Saturday was different. We had the early game, playing a team from Yorkville. This would be a piece of cake....a walk in the park. Yorkville! There are no ball players in Yorkville! Yorkville was a neighborhood bordering East Harlem, at that time primarily an Irish and German neighborhood. No problem.....
I arrived late, my team was already on the layup line. Our coach looked at his watch...I didn't worry, I knew I was starting anyway. I quickly changed and joined them. My buddy EG (RIP), pulled me to the side. He pointed out this player warming up on the other team, his name was Roche. My assignment....stick on him like glue....rumor is he is good. No Problem.
Long story short....
There were no three pointers then, but he was shooting them. Making everyone of them, from every spot. Every time I tried playing him tight, I was crossed over tripping over my feet, as he made the layup. The crowd oooood and ahhhhed every time he used me. But wait! A defensive rebound; ball passed to me...fast break, I got him now. Almost to the rim... And then.... Bam! He and a teammate, yes two of them slammed me and the ball, pinning it and my arm to the backboard. It felt like I was stuck up there for a few seconds. When released, I crumbled to the ground with a bloody arm. Damn!
We were schooled.... I was owned! I've been haunted by this memory for decades, but today is different.
I can now say that.... I OWN JOHN ROCHE! My latest pick-up
