There was a time when THIS is what was waiting for you in the CHS gym.
Lexie (left) and Brittany Black played college basketball on scholarship. There’s a reason why.
I am an idiot.
Which is not a big surprise, really, because it’s an affliction that affects most sports writers.
If we were smarter, we’d be doing something more with our time than shaping the perfect flat ass by spending huge amounts of time trying to find that elusive comfortable position while camped in various high school bleachers (hint: there isn’t one).
I have covered sports, off and on, for 23 years here on Whidbey Island, in a variety of outlets, and yet, if I try and pass myself off as some kind of expert, frankly, it will be final proof that I have lost it for good.
I watch and I report and I know the rules (most of ’em) and, if provoked, probably have a few theories on what works and what doesn’t (theories that are no more or less correct than those held by any set of parents, former players or random fans sharing those bleachers.)
What I do know, without a doubt, is that when it comes to covering basketball, it is easy, too easy at times, to get carried away with who scored, and how many points they scored.
It’s easy. It reduces the game to its quickest, most concise, easiest to digest basics. Which is great for an easily distracted writer.
And, it is how the game is decided, after all. One team scores more points and the other team is a lot less happy when they leave the court.
But the game is a lot bigger than that.
Wilt Chamberlain scored a ton of points, but Bill Russell won a ton more championships. Kobe without Shaq is a novelty act. The Portland Trailblazers, the joy and bane of my existence, won their only championship when I was six (bastards!), as the defense of Bill Walton and friends shut down the high-flying theatrics of Dr. J.
But let’s take it back to the high school level, which is where I have covered sports for the past 20+ years.
If there is one thing I know for sure, one thing I can speak to and know to be absolutely true, it is this — in the words of Gene Hackman in “Hoosiers” — “There is more to this game than shooting.”
There will be, and have always been, arguments in small towns over who plays where, whether it be varsity or JV. Coupeville. Oak Harbor. Bellevue. Mater Dei. Doesn’t matter.
It’s easy, too easy, to look at that most basic of stats — points — and think that that alone should dictate who plays where.
But that’s too simple, even for me.
You have to ask yourself, how were those points scored? Who were they scored against? There are big scorers and then there are players who actually dominate the game. They are not always the same thing.
From 23 years of watching high school basketball players, I know one thing for certain. The best players I have seen, at Coupeville, at Oak Harbor and from any of the visiting schools, have always been about more than scoring.
Defense. Hustling. Rebounding. Sacrificing. Working with your teammates (not viewing them as the enemy). Being coachable. Committing to the same goals. These are the hallmarks of a champion.
That, more than his scoring, is what made Manny Martucci a force of nature at Oak Harbor in the early ’90s when I was at the News-Times. That is what carried Ashley Ellsworth-Bagby and the Black ‘n Blue sisters (Lexie and Brittany) to multiple trips to the state tourney as Wolves.
Lexie Black should be held up to the current generation as Example 1A.
Here was a young woman blessed with height (six-foot-two, whether she wants to admit it or not!) and fierce shoulders who moved like a fashion model off the court and like a beast when wearing the red and black.
She elevated, she fought for rebounds, she used her size and reach to dominate the paint and still owns a record for the most blocked shots in a 1A girls’ state basketball playoff game nearly a decade later.
But height doesn’t define the game any more than scoring does.
Ross Buckner was the polar opposite of Lexie. A short, wiry fireball who once hit the wall at the end of the CHS gym going full-tilt (the bare wall, not the part covered by the mat), then bounced back up and took off in pursuit of the ball before the crowd could fully let loose with the horrified gasp on its collective lips.
If you are a young player, or the parent of a young player, look in the mirror and take a good, hard look at what stares back.
You say you love the game. If you really do, you have to fully commit. Play the entire game, the entire length of the floor.
Life isn’t fair. Coaches are human. Choices will be made, and they will not be well received by all. It has been ever so.
But that doesn’t matter. Look in that mirror and ask yourself, are you playing like Lexie Black and Ross Buckner?
Because if you’re not, there’s probably about 30 legitimate reasons you’re playing at the level you are right now.
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