A Cracker box with a tight lid,
feeble lights and warped floors
were the scene of the church basement gym.
Hot air and steam pipes on the gum ceiling
made for interesting passing techniques.
Out of bounds was the baptismal on the right
and a wall on the left.
Half court and the foul line
were the same.
But who needed a foul line?
Good protestant lads never
fouled each other and
the referee would not offend
by whistling a small violation.
Besides play free
from fouls prevented the shooting
of many air balls by the "littlers".
It was a good league and the gyms
were meant to be remembered.
Ceiling bank shots and getting pushed
into the out of bounds wall
was a good part of the fun.
Uniforms, like most depression school clothes,
were too large to allow for growth spurts.
They were also the appropriate drab
for a quiet group of church lads.
Teams looked as if they had been outfitted
from the church ladies rummage sale.
Baggy shorts, falling stockings
and a uniform shirt
with arm pits to the waist.
On the floor players
skittered in every direction
like ants in a rainstorm.
A loose ball was a play
that all understood
and crashing dives to the floor
by 10 players was what the game was about.
Every Protestant church had a team.
The Presbyterians had a tall
court dominator whose sudden growth
had not taken his coordination.
But the First Christian Church won
because they had Bobby
of the sure eye and foot.
A league for a chosen few boys whose
families thought right.
It was a bonding experience,
good for self esteem.
But they didn't play the Catholics
and there was no Afro-Methodist church.
After all, a church league shouldn't be
too competitive.