The most recommended college basketball books

Every baller has a player they absolutely idolize, whether it’s someone who makes the Sportscenter highlight reels on the regular or the best dunker at their local basketball court. For Shot Clock’s Tony, it’s Dante, who took his AAU team to the championships twice. But when Dante is killed by a police officer, everything changes.

This book brings you all the exciting game action you’d expect from a book with that title and cover, but it’s also a story about grief and loss (a sweet spot for me, always) and the intersection of racial justice and sports. I can’t wait for the sequel coming out in fall 2024.

The little-known story of promoter Eddie Gottlieb’s South Philadelphia Hebrew Association team begins in the 1920s when professional basketball in this country was often played in a cage-encircled court to protect the athletes from the rabid fans in Philly and other cities in the hard-scrabble Eastern League. The unathletic Gottlieb kept the SPHAs at the top of the pack, along with Harlem’s all-Black Renaissance team. The story ends in the 1940s when helped organize the whites-only Basketball Association of American, the forerunner to the NBA. Gottlieb, who coached the original Philadelphia Warriors, spent the last 30 years of his life preparing each NBA season’s schedule by hand with a pencil and a legal pad.

Scott Ellsworth's account of a legendary game that took place between the Eagles of North Carolina College for Negroes (now North Carolina Central University) and Duke University on Duke's campus in Durham, in 1944 (the Duke team comprised medical students but included several former college stars). John McClendon, a protege of the game's founder, John Naismith and coach of the Eagles is widely credited with having transformed the sport, refashioning a slow, stolid affair into a fast-paced, exhilarating game. In the process, he turned the Eagles in mid-century into a juggernaut in the Carolina Intercollegiate Athletic Association, a conference of Black colleges and universities. Jim Crow made it illegal for the Eagles to compete publicly against their intracity rivals, but both programs relished the prospect of playing one another, and a secret game was organized, widely considered the first integrated collegiate game to be played in the south. Ellsworth paints… show more.

A graphic novel about girls’ basketball after the passing of Title IX? Sign me up!

This book takes readers into the early 1970s as Judy, Cindy, and Lisa join their school’s first-ever girls’ basketball team. Tavares is best known for his beautiful picture books, but here he crafts a completely winning story that’s as much about basketball as it is a slice of life in the seventies. Current middle schoolers will be blown away by the differences between then and now, both on and off the court.

I gobbled this book up in less than an hour, but I keep coming back to it again and again because there’s just that much to appreciate with the combination of the visual elements and the text. 

Tragically, in 1951, players on the City College basketball team – Jews and African Americans – were caught up in a point-shaving scandal that rocked the city and the Jewish community.

Goodman tells this sad story comprehensively and unsparingly, and took me back into the neighborhoods where these athletes grew up and detailed how organized crime figures seduced them. He also notes importantly how this corruption of basketball which was then seen as a “Jewish sport” fed antisemitic attitudes against Jews.

I love Dough Boys because it’s an engrossing, authentic story about basketball, music, friendship, and the hard decisions thirteen-year-old kids sometimes have to make. It follows Rollie and Simp, best friends who play on an elite basketball team in their low-income neighborhood...but playing on the team means getting involved as lookouts for a local drug ring, and the boys have very different feelings about the pressures and responsibilities they face. Basketball scenes provide an entryway into important topics, and through the two well-developed protagonists, Chase explores what happens when a sport feels like your only chance at the future you want, and what happens when you’re no longer sure you love a game that used to be part of your identity.

An 11-time NBA champion, Bill Russell revealed the insecurity of being a super tall, lanky, Black man that can’t avoid notice. He wrote honestly about racism and civil rights in America. He mentioned great Celtics players and described the NBA’s early days. His description of the physical demands of traveling and playing so many games made me realize his job was hard work. Read it just to find the passage where Russel describes—better than any writer ever has—that rare, amazing feeling you get when teammates are in sync, everything is clicking, and a team plays at its peak.

If you’re a North Carolinian of a certain age and background, reading To Hate Like This is like looking into one of those magnifying mirrors: You’ll see yourself, but with every pore and blemish blown up to comic proportions.

If you’re not a North Carolinian of that age and background, you’ll learn much about why we are the way we are. Though ostensibly about the fierce basketball rivalry between the University of North Carolina and Duke, it’s really about the pulls (and repulsions) of home, of family, of history, of language.

Even if you don’t like basketball, even if you hate both Carolina and Duke as much as I do, if you’ve ever felt deep ambivalence about your place of birth, you’ll love this book.

My child liked how Crossover was a basketball-themed book, and they had this to say: I play basketball and like watching it. Crossover wasn’t too long. It also had rhymes which sounded cool. I like how there were two basketball players—not just one. You can learn about two different players and their point of view.

While the titles mentioned so far focus on high school teams spending their winters inside gymnasiums with referees on the court and fans in the bleachers, this one, written vibrantly by a staffer for Sports Illustrated magazine, shifts outside, to a blistering hot summer on the asphalt courts of Flatbush in Brooklyn, where teenage boys (including future legends Fly Williams and Albert King) and full-grown men play a tougher game, replete with trash-talking, flashy in-your-face moves, and tests of manhood that often turn to violence, with no officials to enforce order or rules, and few bystanders besides aging ex-athletes betting a few dollars on the outcomes, and other pickup teams waiting to take on the winners. As on inner-city playgrounds across the country, the game of basketball offers a rare respite from otherwise grim lives framed by poverty and the almost complete absence of hope.