Of course living in Indiana means/meant basketball, except as you all know, Hobart was FOOTBALL territory and the roundballers, though spirited, always seemed a distant second.

Nonetheless, lots of us guys were always looking for spots to play hoops. I believe Daryl Heine's house on State Street, next door to Fitzgerald's, had a goal on the garage we always tried to take advantaage of. During the winters, it was more challenging. At Christmas break, the old high school (nee the REALLY old high school) would open that crackerbox, sunken gym floor to all comers. It was usually a total fiasco - no way to play an organized game, just lots of youngsters hurling balls at baskets and trying to retreive their own balls afterwards.

The really hearty among us used to go down to City Park, on the courts behind the baseball grandstands and SHOVEL OFF the snow! just to be be able to have a few square feet on which to play. It was a real challenge trying to dribble a hard rubber ball in 25 deg temperatures when the air inside refused rebound the ball back up. We managed to get sweaty and then usually pile on our coats etc and rush home to get some hot chocolate. Determination was given a new meaning.....

In Larry Bird's book, he mentioned Hobart three times.     As a young kid he would come to Hobart (big city) from French-Lick (hicktown) to visit his cousin Jeff (Bird "68") and play basketball.  One of their basketball hangouts was on Kelly St. at Tom Sporre's driveway/basketball court.  So, we Brickies can take credit in molding the Great Celtic, Larry Bird, into a basketball legend!  Way to go, Brickies!!