Barefoot Basketball

I had but  one year at Dorton  Elementary—as it turned out an eventful year. The new school opened up a new world. I met students who came from places like Peavine, which last year seemed a world away.  I got to know boys and girls whose parents were professionals and who had more money than we ever imagined. It was strange and wonderful that I did not see my siblings after we entered the school until we boarded the bus to go home.

Almost!  Ivy and I, during recess, played basketball. We did it well enough to be on the school team. Tennessee differed from the majority of other states in that girls’ basketball  teams  had  not five but six players and played half court.  Each team had three forwards and three guards, each playing half the court.   Crossing the middle line was a foulable offence.

   

Ivy and I played guard. I was not bad, but Ivy was by far better. We did share common handicaps. First, we not allowed to wear shorts. Mommie and Daddy forbad it on moral grounds. It caused us much consternation. Second, and perhaps more humiliating, we had no tennis shoes. Mommie  and Daddy said it was a waste of money. To be fair money was tight and Daddy did his best to provide for the family. But when you're eleven and twelve understanding comes hard.  Playing barefoot  was physically and emotionally painful.

Some kind fellow player gave Ivy her cast side shoes which were two sizes or more too small. But Ivy gave those shoes her best effort. It beat being barefoot. I had no such good luck—if indeed it was good luck.