Pickup basketball - East/West cultural differences

Though I like to joke about it with Chinese kids, being Canadian does not make me Steve Nash's cousin. And I'll never forget that day in the countryside when I asked a crowd of kids who their favorite basketball player was- the loudest in the group, not even knowing I was Canadian, shouted "Steve Nash!"

I applaud that rural villages understanding of NBA stars. What I didn't expect to encounter in Beijing were some fairly large differences in the way that friends casually play pick-up basketball.

Today, I got my first sunburn in Beijing. I was shooting around on my own, and ended up joining a game of Chinese highschoolers.

I'm not very good at basketball, but in high school I played it often with my friends during lunch break everyday. Not being a great shooter, I'd be responsible for rebounding, playing tough defense, and occasionally throwing up a goofy hook shot for comic relief.

On those Canadian courts, we kept score. There was an unspoken rule that the best players should shoot the most. We worked up a sweat playing defense, and each team would often pass the ball around before taking the "perfect" opportunity. Like the Toronto Maple Leafs power play.

In contrast, the average possession in a Chinese friendly pickup game lasts about 3 seconds- someone gets the ball, and drives towards the hoop, and tries to make some acrobatic move. The defense is lackadaisical. Everyone tries to make behind the back passes.

When I'd set up to take a 3 pointer back in Canada, a defender would immediately charge towards me with his arms up and leap to block my shot. In China, no one even bothered to defend my, nor any one else's outside shots. They looked at me like I was funny for doing so.

I missed the hypercompetitiveness of playing basketball in Canada, but I also liked the laid-back feel, and the freedom to take more risks and chances to set up sensational plays.

Although, the best part of Chinese basketball are the 70 year olds who've abandoned Tai Chi for the hoops game. When I lived in the dorms, sometimes I'd wake up to the pit pats and clangs of a lao beijing ren shooting six-footers, over and over, at 5:30am.

(edited for lackadaisical spelling)