Butch remembers “Barnlot Basketball”

On the south end of our little red barn, just above the corncrib door railing, hung a prized possession…our basketball goal. In summer, winter, spring, and fall the old rusted basketball goal, with its taped and torn net, was a reliable companion to my brother and me. Our “gym” was a barn lot, and we became experts at dribbling through a maze of mudholes, corncobs, rocks, and gullies. We imitated our Darlington high school heroes. The nearby hogs and cows were the spectators, and the chattering chickens, our cheerleaders.

The most common game that we played was “Twenty-one,” in which the first shot counted two, followed by a lay-up, which scored one. The first player to reach twenty-one points without going over was declared the winner. If someone reached unlucky 13, he had to start all over again. The next most popular game was “Horse.” The first player shot from his chosen spot, and if he made it, the other player had to make it from the same spot, and in the same manner, or he would have an “H.” This proceeded on until someone ended up with H-O-R-S-E, and was declared the loser.

There were numerous other games such as playing one-on-one, consecutive free throw shooting, and attempting trick shots…such as shooting from the haymow window, from behind the fence, over the barn roof, under the legs, behind the back…and the trickiest shot of all, ricocheting the ball from the barn roof overhang. But the one game that I remember the most was “strip basketball,” which was very similar to “Horse,” except that after a missed shot, the unfortunate player had to discard a piece of clothing. This went on until a completely nude, and needless to say, frustrated loser was crowned. My brother and I played this game in the middle of winter one time, and by the time both of us were down to only our underwear, we were C-O-L-D. Our Dad spied us from the top of the barnlot hill and ordered the game to a halt…Thank the Lord!

Sometimes we played until dark, our clothes dripping with sweat and hands caked with dirt. There were a few twisted ankles and sprained backs through the years, and one time the ball was punctured by a barn nail. Despite these obstacles and all of the fighting and arguing over rules and points and who may have cheated, the fun and excitement was always present. And those countless hours at the barn paid off when we played “real” basketball on our school teams.

Each time I watch the movie “Hoosiers” and see a boy shooting baskets at a basketball goal on the side of a barn, I think of my brother and me as we were growing up on our farm in the 50s and 60s. And yes, I get a little teary-eyed remembering that magical period of childhood.

John “Butch” Dale is a retired teacher and County Sheriff. He has also been the librarian at Darlington the past 32 years, and is a well-known artist and author of local history.