I can’t believe it is against the law to make a lay-up. Or shoot
a free throw.
A slam dunk? Be ready to do hard time, son.
The City of Hollister has declared war on portable basketball
hoops.
I can’t believe it is against the law to make a lay-up. Or shoot a free throw.
A slam dunk? Be ready to do hard time, son.
The City of Hollister has declared war on portable basketball hoops.
Its enforcement lad is riding around town – on our dime, of course – writing notices to folks who have shelled out more than a hundred bucks so their kids can play basketball in their driveway or in the street in front of their house.
Huh?
I drive past one every morning on the way to the newspaper. So far, it hasn’t jumped out into my path like a deer. The rim hasn’t unexpectedly sailed into my windshield like a brick. And the netting seems quite content to hang there, even in a stiff breeze.
The clever contraption – hey, if the City of Hollister had the patent on those things its checkbook would be back in the black – doesn’t strike me as an eyesore, like the trashy vacant lot just around the corner from the hoop.
When I follow the same route home after work, there are usually three or four kids playing basketball there. They seem like bright and polite young fellows.
They see my car approaching, they make sure they move out of the way, they wave and I wave back, and then they resume their game of horse or two-on-two or whatever kids play these days.
Here is what I’m thinking as a parent and homeowner.
I went to the store with my kids, plunked down my hard-earned cash for the portable basketball setup, spent a few more bucks for a shiny new basketball or a Shaquille O’Neal jersey or two.
Then I took it home, broke out the tools, spent more of my valuable relaxation time reading the confusing directions, finally put the thing together and patted myself on the back for being an awesome parent.
The kids can’t wait to be the first one on the block to have their own court and they invite their pals from next door and down the street to get the ball bouncing.
As a parent I’m glad that I invested the time and money so that I can look out the front-room window and know my kids, and my neighbors’ kids, are enjoying a healthy activity instead of hanging out at the park huffing glue or smoking pot.
Plus, I’d be looking out the window seriously daydreaming that my son plays a lot of basketball, knocks down free throws and three-pointers until dusk, grows like a weed, stars on the high school team, gets a full scholarship to Duke and gets drafted into the NBA so I can quit my job early and buy a brand new truck or fishing boat.
But while you’re having a beer and deciding on what kind of trolling motor you would pick out, here comes a City of Hollister car, out pops a guy and now you’re standing there with your mouth open, holding a piece of paper that says you have to somehow move this heavy stand, tall steel pole, thick plastic backboard, metal rim and fluttering net into your kitchen cupboard.
If you don’t, the city will confiscate (a legal word for “steal”) the thing that just made you a hero to your son, daughter and every kid on the block. And you spent the money that could have gone toward a new drill or the water bill.
Here is what I would do. First, I would question the threat that they’re going to haul the thing away. I doubt that it will fit in the enforcement guy’s trunk, even if he found another city guy who weighs a lot and they sat on the lid together.
Then I would change my mind about them not snatching the hoop because cities can be real stubborn about doing stupid things and enforcing dumb laws.
So I would ring up my cousin the lawyer or pick someone out of the phone book for free legal advice about the supposed legality of the city taking my property off of my property – or even taking my property from city property, the street that I pay taxes to drive on and maintain.
Then I would call City Hall and threaten to sue them if they boost my kid’s basketball court. And I would put a heavy chain on it and lock it to my garage door handle.
In Chicago, where I grew up, there was an unofficial rule of thumb. If the kids were playing baseball, basketball, hockey or football on a side street or in the alley, you let it go.
You put up with the noise if it wasn’t too far past dark and you didn’t get too upset if the ball, or one of the kids, bounced off your parked car or if there was accidental damage to your bushes or fence.
You’d work it out with your neighbor and understand.
Why? Because it is parents and kids trying to do the right and safe and sensible thing in a world that is filled with horrible danger for children and teenagers everywhere.
I also have some advice for the City of Hollister on this one. Leave Code violation No. 5,623, section 438, part A, sub-dash B on the books. It will take too long to scratch it out.
But find something smarter to do with our tax money than to hassle hard-working parents and their kids over portable basketball hoops.
Mike Fitzgerald is Associate Publisher/Executive Editor of the Hollister Free Lance. He can be reached at 637-5566 ext. 337 or at mf*********@fr***********.com. His commentary appears in every weekend edition.
