The #BasketballDiaries is a new feature inspired by the Leonardo DiCaprio film of the same name, offering a more personal approach to the game.
Japanese basketball is more than just the great Rui Hachimura and Yuta Watanabe raising the flag and making their names in downtown Los Angeles and Phoenix, respectively. You only had to watch last summer's FIBA World Cup, partly held on the island of Okinawa, to see that. The Japanese national team booked their place to this year's Paris Olympics. And they did so without Rui. Yuta was there, but a lot of it had to do with a guy from Yokohama called Yuki, too.
That pocket dynamo by the last name of Kawamura plays for Kanagawa's Yokohama B-Corsairs. A B-League team (previously named the BJ League, until, well...you know). A great side rivalling neighbouring Tokyo's Alvark and the Shibuya Sun Rockers (featuring former Los Angeles Laker Ryan Kelly), who bring their water wet jumpers to a swimming pool they play in.
Down in the B3 League and playing a few blocks away from baseball's BayStars' Yokohama Stadium, in the Yokohama Budokan (a gymnasium like Tokyo's Nippon Budokan who we caught jazz icon Norah Jones in, in concert a year and change ago), is the Yokohama Excellence (like the name? Then you should check out the Tokyo Earth Friends for your environmentally friendly pick). A team that plays in green like the Boston Celtics and sells merchandise like a storied side.
Featuring two kawaiiiiiii mascots named Pick (who lightly touched my shoulder as he passed, it was a nice moment) and Roll like Stockton and Malone, the Excellence bring it. Whether it's from their infectious chants on both sides of the court, or the cool player introductions that begin amongst the fans in the stands.
Just a fraction of the price I paid to see the Knicks earlier this month in New York (you win a few more games and suddenly your cheapest ticket is a couple of hundred dollars?!). For just under 5000 yen (around 25 dollars or pounds) you can practically sit courtside. In practically touching distance of not just the mascot, but the player's bench too (don't get any ideas, guy who ran up on LeBron). Hearing plays called and fouls. Not to mention the sound of a smack on hardwood, a scream, and then a cry of, "I barely touched him".
The blood on several of the players, who walked off at numerous times, said different. As did the stitches that you get so close to being applied you can almost hold the thread. Sure, the so-called Excellence got rinsed by the visiting Kagoshima Rebnise, as they tried to keep it under 40 like guys my age to no avail. But this scrappy affair was as passionate as it comes on court. Basketball is brutal and beautiful, and this is my pick for you to roll with the next time you're in town. Excellent. TIM DAVID HARVEY.
