On this date in 1996, the Dike East courts in Fargo were becoming a hub for passionate street basketball players of all skill levels, embracing intense, often physical pick-up games as part of a growing local hoop culture.
Here is the complete story as it appeared in the paper that day:
For die-hard hoop fanatics, Dike East becomes home
By Chuck Klosterman
In the world of art, there is an accepted difference between “high culture” and “low culture.” High culture is the opera. Low culture is the latest Jean Claude Van Damme movie. High culture is experienced by artists and rich people; low culture is consumed by the world at large. That same relationship exists in basketball.
The high culture of hoops is seen on NBC all winter long: the NBA, Michael Jordan and the multi-million dollar contracts that have made throwing a leather spheroid into a metal cylinder one of the world’s most lucrative occupations.
The low culture of hoops is everywhere else – on playgrounds, in rural communities and in the ghettos of every major urban community in the United States. Basketball has existed for scarcely more than 100 years, but it has grown into one of the most unifying principles in America (especially for the lower class of the inner-city). What started as a routine game has grown into an extension of street life.
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This societal phenomenon has existed in some places for decades; Holcombe Rucker Playground in Manhattan, for example, has been a Mecca for pedestrian hoop warriors since the 1950s. There has always been a vibrant basketball culture in places where the only ticket out of town was a sports scholarship or a prison sentence.
During the past five years, however, the glorification of street ball has crossed into the mainstream. Shoe advertisements for Nike and Reebok insist that “the real game is on the street.” The flippant language of pick-up basketball – once hated by hoop purists – is now casually used by esteemed TV sportscasters (even the most urbane color commentators will say Timberwolves draft pick Stephon Marbury “can really dish the rock”).
Street basketball culture has grown so common that it even exists in Fargo. The 1995 creation of three pristine courts near Dike East has finally given Fargo-Moorhead a centralized venue for serious outdoor play. Whenever the weather is warm and the wind is still, you’ll find upwards of 50 people waiting to live their hoop dreams alongside the Red River.
“You can either play here or you can play at Courts Plus, which is what we do all winter,” 17-year-old Kevin Hanson says as he lazily launches 17-foot jump shots on a sweltering Tuesday afternoon. “But it just doesn’t seem right to be indoors when it’s 90 degrees. And there’s nothing like playing outside.”
Hanson will be a junior at Fargo South High School this fall; the Dike is his training ground. Hanson and his 16-year-old friend Tim Niebauer play at the courts virtually every day, testing their skills against a variety of competition.
“Some of the people who play here are really good, and some are just plain bad,” Niebauer says. “There’s really no in-between. Todd Johnson has been down here a few times, but some of these guys can’t play at all.”
That’s a good indication of how much the talent at Dike East varies. Johnson was an All-Conference forward at the University of North Dakota and the most consistent player for the F-M Beez last winter. Most of the people who come to the Dike, however, are endowed with mediocre physical gifts.
But that doesn’t mean the games aren’t serious – especially when the courts are full. The winning team holds court, so losers spend most of their time watching and waiting.
Games are played to 11, 15 or 21 points, and teams have to win by two. As is always the case with pick-up ball, baskets are worth only one point each and 3-point shots are counted as two. Of course, North Dakota is among the windiest places in the world, so draining jumpers from beyond the 19-foot arc is particularly tricky. Most of the action is funneled into the lane.
Since the majority of the traffic occurs in the paint (and since there are no referees patrolling these battlegrounds), play can get physical. Fouls are supposed to be called by the players who commit them, but the rule is often ignored. Athletes accept being hit when they go to the basket.
“You don’t want to say anything down here,” Hanson says. “That’s really looked down upon, unless somebody gets killed.”
