Fouled Out: Barn Basketball

In ninth grade, I was growing and getting bigger and had more skills thanks to playing inside barn basketball with my brother, cousin Daryl, Jim Miller, Earl and Ellis Rush, and the Clark boys. Barn basketball is the roughest toughest game there is.

During June – and then again in August, if the grasses grow and it rains enough, but not too much – you make hay! Yes, you make hay when the sun shines. For if the hay is wet or too green and put in the barn, then there is spontaneous combustion because of the heat and the barn burns down. Anyway, you fill the hay mows in the barn to the roof. As you rank the bales of hay when you get past the ten-foot mark, the basketball hoop is buried for the season. Now in late fall and early winter, as you feed the cows hay, the mows reveal the basketball hoop. You start taking hay from around the hoop until you reach the floor and you have a stadium with hay piled on both sides.

Then on Sunday afternoons, after church, the neighboring farm boys all get together. In the dark of the barn, the haymow may have one lonely light bulb, and the cracks between the boards lets the overcast skies barely light the arena. The hoop doesn’t have a backboard or net. The floor on a haymow is uneven, with cracks and even holes big enough for your leg to go through. Some boards are loose so a quick shifting of weight can open a crevasse for you and your opponent. I remember one time, one of the Clark boys got knocked or pushed and went through two boards on the side of their barn. He quickly, came around through the barn doors to not miss any of the action. We nailed the boards back in place after the game. There were no lines or boundary markings on the floor. Out of bounds was only if the ball went into the center of the barn with the tractors, rake, and baler. Yes, this was a half-court basketball game with no scoreboard, but we usually played to 10 points or 21 points.

The standard uniform was a long winter coat or barn coat and of course barn boots and blue jeans. On a really cold January Sunday long johns are appreciated. Jersey Gloves were sometimes worn as your hands may get numb from the cold. Well, all this extra padding increased the contact under the basket and out in the court. There was no referee and teams could be as little as three and as many as eight as everyone played from grade school to high school. Little boys and big boys pushing and shoving almost like a football game on a basketball court. We even threw a little wrestling in there trying to get the basketball. There was an understanding to respect the little guys and not be too rough with them. If one got hurt, we would stop and comfort them for a minute and then go back at it again!

More often than not the basketball had a leak or small hole so as the game progressed it was easier to handle but not much of a bounce. The rough and tumble games were such great fun. There was always laughing and hollering. Teasing and bragging, as claims of fame and watch this, were common as the games were either to eleven points or twenty-one points. When it came close to five o’ clock, which was milking time, the games would end. Everyone ended up with bumps and bruises and the occasional black eye. That Monday on the bus to school the tales were told of the barn basketball game last Sunday with bragging rights, smiles and laughter.

Now the most important lessons that barn basketball taught you were not to dribble the ball but shoot it or pass it. The almost equally as important was don’t hold on to the ball too long or you were going to be tackled or swarmed by you opponents. Oh, yea, when you get a rebound, don’t bring it down or the little kids will grab it – so shoot if it’s your teams basket or pass it out to a team mate. Just don’t bring it down to the 6th grade level.

Editor’s Note: This is the second installment in Ritchey’s recollections. The Herald will publish the rest over the next few editions.