When Steve James was a kid, he had the shot. He had the moves. He had the dream. “I was gonna be a pro player,” says James, 32, with a wispy smile. “Somehow or other I convinced myself I was gonna play in the NBA.”
The documentary is now only in its early stages. With the help of the folks at Kartemquin Educational Films, an award-winning film house that allowed James and Marx use of their space, personnel, and equipment, they have put together two ten-minute demos. They hope to use the demos to raise the money–from sports-oriented institutions, public and private–needed to make the documentary.
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James’s love for basketball goes back to his youth in Virginia, where he was one of three boys in a sports-crazed family.
“And then I went to college. My coach was Mike Fratello, who now coaches for the Atlanta Hawks [a pro team]. The first day I met Fratello he says, ‘Let’s see you play some of the recruits.’ So we play a little two-on-two. I guarded this guy named Sherman Dillard. He’s six-foot-four, about 220 pounds, and he takes me to the hole repeatedly. I’m like a dishrag covering him. After it’s over, Fratello asks me, ‘What did you think of Sherman?’ I said, ‘He’s tough; he’ll be a good forward.’ Fratello looks at me and said: ‘He’s playing guard.’ That was it. I knew it; my career was over.”
“I recruit for a few high schools. It’s a hobby; I don’t get paid for it. I’ll go from court to court all over the city, and if I spot a youngster who has talent, I generally will watch him three or four times. He doesn’t have to be a great shot; that usually comes later. It’s difficult to judge potential when you’re dealing with a 13-year-old. He could reach 16 and not get any better. But if you see a kid playing with older guys, and he’s holding his own, you know you got a potential world-beater. After that, I’ll ask him if he’s committed to a high school. If he is committed, I don’t tamper. If he’s not, I’ll meet his parents and introduce them to the coach.”
“The first thing you learn about playground ball is that the winning team keeps the court,” says James. “That makes for tough competition. If you lose, you can sit for hours, especially if there’s a lot of guys playing. So you better pick a good team. Which means you don’t want a ‘buster.’ That’s a guy who can’t play but tries to anyway. What you have to do is stack your team. Let’s say you’re getting ready to play, and a buster walks on the court. Chances are you’ll say, ‘I got my five,’ even if you don’t. The buster knows you’re not telling the truth. So the buster will call the next game, and then stack his team.”
In the demo, this drama is captured by footage of a teenager, small and spindly, walking across a vacant lot, basketball in hand, to a netless court in a nearby school yard. There he will practice for hours, dribbling the ball behind his back and through his legs.
