Basketball in Braidwood

In my mind, basketball has always been big in Braidwood especially since the high school team went to the state finals in 1938. Coached by Lou Bottino, the Principal, the Comets lost the championship game to Dundee, 36-29.  Remember, it was only one class system so Braidwood had to beat Rockford, Bloomington, and Carbondale to reach the finals.

I had the good fortune of becoming a good friend of Mr. Bottino while he was a faculty member at Lewis and then later as a neighbor in Wilmington.  When he passed away, I served as one of his pall bearers in 1979.  I also delivered papers to Bill Hocking, one of the team’s stars.

Big on Braidwood Basketball

By the 1950’s, I became a high school basketball fan and saw the great Jim Touvelle play in the Reed-Custer gym behind my house. Jim later played college ball as did another fine player, Gene Mullins.  We cheered Gene on one night as he scored 52 points against Odell High School.

As a result of Braidwood’s basketball history and my exposure to it, I imagined myself as a future player in the same fine tradition. However, by attending grade school in Wilmington and then in Joliet, actual participation in the game was not quite eliminated, but severely limited.  I had to substitute playing by simulations.

Game Adjustments

Winter time in Braidwood, I am 16, the neighborhood basketball hoop at Colin Kelly’s is up but the ground is wet from freshly melted snow, and it’s the weekend. But I can play one-on-one or one-on-none for hours under the strangest circumstances. In my bedroom, I have a waste basket on the bed located in the corner. Wads of paper become my basketballs sometimes I use ping-pong balls. It doesn’t matter. Right hand plays against left hand in games of horse. Bank shots, using the spin of the fake ball, become artistic. Longshots, hook shots… It doesn’t matter.

In our one-car garage, where the garage door is opened by pulling it on a guide to one side, the guide bar in the corner becomes a basketball hoop. The ceiling is so low that the trajectory of the ball must be very low, or the ball will hit the ceiling. And the ball almost never has enough air in make even one dribble possible. But it doesn’t really matter to me because I can spend hours shooting the ball into that little opening in the corner.

The outdoor basketball hoop at Colin’s house, only two houses away, had become a popular place even in the winter when the weather permitted. Games of horse and two-on-two or one-on-one with Colin and Marty Koslowski were common. As the sun began to set and it gets colder, our fingers become numb and shiny with caked dirt from the ball. After all, the surface of the court was compacted black dirt. But we would play into the dark or, at times, under the moonlight.

In the Gym

If my eagerness and willingness to play basketball in the bedroom, in the garage, and dirt floor conditions gives the reader a mild indication of my zeal for playing, can you imagine the euphoria I had when we had the chance on Sundays to use the high school gym. Some older guys, already out of high school, knew the principal (Jack Bottino) of the school and were able to borrow the keys occasionally on the promise that we would take good care of the facility. 

The two or three hours we were in there flew by as we played full court and sweated in spite of the fact that the weekend gym temperature was about 55°. Good god, that was fun. Full court, balls that actually bounced, a floor that was clean and smooth, and nets on the rims. Visions of made shots would with stay with me until I fell asleep that night and would recur in daydreams during class.

These were always good until the next Sunday when we got the keys again from the principal. Or until I made a left handed off, off-balance, fade-away shot off the side walls in the bedroom. In the meantime, I was asked to sometimes scrimmage with the high school players during their season.  Although I had good jumping ability, it was Coach Ross Blake who taught me how to dunk a ball when I was a senior.

Super Fan

All of this was a prelude to watching high school basketball. Although I didn’t play, I was a super fan of the Reed-Custer Comets.  I may have watched games at my high school, Joliet Catholic, if they weren’t 20 miles away.  Whether the Comets were home or away, I tried to go to every game.  It became my social event being with these young boys and girls. Bus rides were great, and I remember being picked on occasion up near my house, a special stop.

The bus rides and games became an important social outlet for me. After all, I knew all my Braidwood peers. They were friends of mine like Barney, Gene, and Davey French. I did go to a few Joliet Catholic games and it was there that I saw some Joliet classmates play on the varsity, but I failed to get emotionally attached.  When Reed-Custer played Catholic, I quietly cheered for the Comets.  As I am today, I was proud to be from Braidwood and enjoyed sticking it to the bigger school. 

Growing up in Braidwood for my first 18 years, I could never have imagined that I would luckily have the chance to play basketball at Lewis College.  By my senior year, I was recognized as a Small Catholic College All-American and then was drafted into the National Basketball Association (NBA) with the Chicago Zephyrs. Colin’s backyard, my bedroom, and the cold Comet gym would become memories but would never be unappreciated or undervalued.