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TIME: Almanac 1995
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TIME Almanac 1995.iso
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1995-02-26
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<text id=94TT1670>
<title>
Nov. 28, 1994: Books:The Cyclone
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1994
Nov. 28, 1994 Star Trek
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
ARTS & MEDIA/BOOKS, Page 91
The Cyclone
</hdr>
<body>
<p> On Coney Island, the lives of basketballers soar and fall
</p>
<p>By John Skow
</p>
<p> Basketball is called the city game, but that's not quite right.
The really slick city game is played by college and high school
coaches, sports agents, shoe manufacturers, sportswriters and
TV producers. It involves conning kids--mostly poor black
kids--into believing that they can grow up to play professional
basketball. The fine documentary film Hoop Dreams shows how
the game is played with high school basketballers in Chicago,
and now Darcy Frey's thoughtful, sharply observed book, The
Last Shot (Houghton Mifflin; 230 pages; $19.95), spells out
its consequences for students at Abraham Lincoln High School
in the bleak Coney Island section of Brooklyn.
</p>
<p> Lincoln High's Railsplitters--Abe's rustic nickname is grotesque
in this concrete waste--are city champs coming into the 1991
season. Their best players are returning as seniors: Russell,
a guard who emerges, coldly intent, to take over games; Tchaka,
a wonderfully athletic 6-ft. 7-in. power forward; and Corey,
only 6 ft. 1 in. but spectacularly quick and a great dunker.
Coming up as a freshman is a supernatural shooter named Stephon.
With this sort of talent, the question isn't whether Lincoln
will dominate its league again; the question is whether the
three seniors, and Stephon when he's older, will win basketball
scholarships to Division 1 colleges, the schools that incubate
most of the N.B.A. pros.
</p>
<p> Frey gets to know Coney Island not as a place with a few old
amusement park rides but as 50 square blocks of high-rises housing
poor families and fractions of families. The athletes are the
hope of the community, and they are talented enough to play
at any college. Everyone knows this, including the big-time
coaches who buddy up, winking and promising. For the honor of
the neighborhood, Frey makes us feel, to redeem something from
the miles of drabness, at least one of these guys must make
it big. But the odds aren't good. The omens that say so aren't
so much the ubiquitous drug dealers but rather the old Lincoln
High legends of four, five and 10 years earlier, gifted fellows
who never got near the Celts or Lakers.
</p>
<p> The players' biggest problem is that Division 1 colleges make
at least a pretense of being educational institutions. They
require sat scores of 700 for entrance. This isn't high if you've
been prepped for these tests for years, but in educational terms
the kids at Lincoln were written off before first grade. Some
members of the team try to study enough to make up the difference.
Mostly they aren't successful, so they are sidetracked to junior
colleges, not hopelessly off the N.B.A. track, but slowly lose
confidence and direction. Like the Lincoln High legends before
them, they will someday be back home on the sidelines watching
a new crop of kids who can make a basketball do card tricks.
</p>
</body>
</article>
</text>