NEW YORK -- In an era when posters of Kobe Bryant and LeBron James adorn the walls of young basketball fans across the country, it may surprise many Americans to learn that when the NBA was founded, in 1949, there were no black players. None.
There were the "Globies," of course -- the Harlem Globetrotters -- but they could be seen as the equivalent of the old black-faced minstrel shows, playing to buffoonish stereotypes, and some of the greatest black players, including Bill Russell, wanted no part of them. On the other hand, perhaps their act was calculated to seduce the enemy, a strategy of "make your enemy laugh," as Harvard scholar Henry Louis Gates Jr. argues in the documentary "Black Magic," which airs on ESPN in two parts, Sunday and Monday night.
In the classic basketball movie "Hoosiers," Gene Hackman plays the wise Indiana high school coach who yanks a player from a game for violating his rule that the team patiently passes the ball at least four times before shooting. But in "Black Magic," that's the buffoonery, the plodding white guys passing around the rock, immediately contrasted with the shoot-in-8-seconds fastbreak, a style derided as "jungle ball" by certain whites but that may well be, the documentary argues, the way the inventor of basketball, James Naismith, intended it to be played.
"Black Magic" ostensibly is about basketball at all-black colleges in the days before major universities began their recruiting frenzy over the talent that would come to dominate the game. But the latest documentary by New York Dan Klores is just as much about such sensitive issues at the intersection of race and sports in America.
Klores' first documentary, 2003's "The Boys of 2nd Street Park," also began with basketball, but the sort he played in a Brooklyn playground with fellow Jewish baby boomers, whose lives he followed through the turbulent years of the Vietnam War and '70s drug culture. Though the film is not autobiographical, it does draw on the experiences of Klores, 58, as a student at the University of South Carolina, where he got into several fistfights after being called a "Jew bastard" and was reminded what it meant to be an outsider. Still, his experiences were trivial contrasted with those of blacks in the South, where he saw a group of whites celebrating after the assassination of the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., chanting "One less . . . !" -- well, the epithet is all too familiar. "I was right there," Klores says.
