100 books like Full Court

Mike Roos did a great job telling this true story of Indiana high school basketball. Roos’s father was the high school principal that hired that crazy coach referenced in the title. He used extensive interviews and years of rewrites to recreate meetings, locker room pep talks, and dialogue. Not only is this a good story, but Roos showed readers what is wonderful about creative nonfiction. It reads like a novel, but it’s genuine nonfiction.

A friend recommended One Last Shot at Forever while I was researching my first book and I’m glad he did. Ballard demonstrated that great sports writing rarely is about the sport itself. He uncovered clash of cultures in a changing world, intraschool politics, the power of personal relationships, a fun baseball story, and more. He hooked me in the prelude with the head baseball coach acknowledging that “coaching” was the team’s weakness that season—I needed to know more about that guy. Then Ballard kept my attention through the final chapter. It was a fun read.

I liked this slice of history and the sense of importance David Halberstam imparted to it. He cared about the story, and so I did, too.

I love the All-Star cast—Casey Stengel, Yogi Berra, Joe DiMaggio, Ted Williams, Bobby Doerr, et al.—that animates the action. I’m there on the field with these guys, sweating out the action Halberstam so passionately describes, and feeling their emotions.

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.

This book describes the history of African Americans in professional basketball from the early years of racially segregated barnstorming teams, to the partial integration in the early pro leagues, to the slow acceptance of Blacks in the NBA in the 1950s, to the modern day.

But while Ron Thomas relates the personal stories of the main actors, Douglas Stark, who has spent his career in positions with sports museums including the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame, offers an historian’s perspective and examines the social and historical context behind each step in the evolution. Bit by bit, we see the game and our society change as we learn how we got to where we are today. 

In They Cleared the Lane, Ron Thomas, a journalist and HBCU professor, tells the stories of players and coaches who blazed a trail for African Americans back when only the ball was brown.

He introduces us to pioneers like Earl Lloyd, Chuck Cooper, and Sweetwater Clifton, the “First Three” Black players who broke the NBA’s color line in 1951; Hal “King” Lear, Dick Gaines, Wally Choice, and Cleo Hill, who couldn’t crack the NBA’s racial quotas and stereotypes and starred instead in the Eastern League; John McClendon, who literally learned the game from its inventor, Dr. James Naismith, and is the acknowledged king of Black college coaches; and the first generation of Black superstars like Maurice Stokes, Bill Russell, Elgin Baylor, and Wilt Chamberlain.

If you want to learn on whose shoulders the modern NBA rests, this is the book to read. 

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.

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.

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.