Basketball is now a status sport in Washington. I keep reading of high-power, invitation-only games on sleek indoor courts, with members of Congress, Cabinet officials, and hungry up-and-comers vying for rebounds with the Hoopster-in-Chief. I should probably mention here—nonchalantly—that I once played ball on the actual White House court. This was long before Nov. 4, 2008, when basketball became political currency. I had a regular Washington game in the 1990s, and a fellow player, a White House speechwriter, invited a few of us to 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. for two-on-two. Washingtonians go to sometimes embarrassing extremes to wangle an invitation to the White House tennis courts. Effortlessly, I had scored a more exotic offer.
After passing White House security, we followed an unbeaten path to a pocked, undulating sea of asphalt bounded by unkempt foliage. A grounds worker eyed our approach in the manner of rain-forest tribesmen encountering their first anthropologist. Industrial-grade garbage bins stood sentry over a battlement of maintenance sheds, emitting a pungent summer vapor across the court. The rim-and-backboard was a rusted, net-less shambles, slumped atop a listing aluminum pole. I’d seen better equipment affixed to derelict barns. We played for a while, working hard at having fun. But the unrelenting shabbiness of the place eventually overwhelmed us, propelling us homeward. For our next game, we returned to our customary spot—an elementary schoolyard in my neighborhood. The court was cramped, child-size, with lazy rims that hung 6 inches too low. Status-wise, though, it was a big step up.
Article continues belowThe Week
Escape your echo chamber. Get the facts behind the news, plus analysis from multiple perspectives.
Sign up for The Week's Free Newsletters
From our morning news briefing to a weekly Good News Newsletter, get the best of The Week delivered directly to your inbox.
From our morning news briefing to a weekly Good News Newsletter, get the best of The Week delivered directly to your inbox.