What an event! Hoopfest in Spokane, Wash. – a weekend of three-on-three basketball.

Three-hundred-ninety-four courts, more than 6,000 teams, over 23,000 participants. Basketballs everywhere.

The city of Spokane blocks off some thoroughfares and sets up courts in the streets. They use the parking lots, too. My granddaughter Hannah played for a team of nine-year-olds from Mabton, Wash.

These kids had a great time, but some didn’t. One team had three girls who were quite aggressive, and quite miserable. One of their players threw the ball to the ref when he wasn’t looking and hit him upside the head. Then, the little girl started crying and ran to the bench.

She burst into tears several times more during the game. At one point she sobbed, “I don’t want to play.” She had to play, though: They only had three players, and it is three-on-three, after all.

Another team lost to Hannah’s squad in their second game, and they weren’t very happy about it. Apparently these kids (and their parents) planned to “win it all,” as they say.

Hannah’s team played that team again in the championship game, and you could see the opposing coach was taking it personally. He’d been watching too much television and thought his job was to intimidate the refs. This man began complaining before the game began and never really slowed down.

At one point the coach ran out onto the court to argue rules with the ref. While he shouted at the ref, Hannah’s coach said, “No, that’s not what it says.”

The opposing coach said, “You shut the #$@% up.”

These are third-graders, I thought. Is this guy some type of nut?
But the girls kept playing, and the game was close. One team would get a couple of points ahead, and then an opposing player would toss up a two-pointer. These kids were taking shots they had never made in their lives – and making them!

There is no clock, so time is kept by the refs. The kids play for 25 minutes, and the ref announces when there are three or four minutes left. After that, it’s anybody’s guess.

Time was nearly up with the score tied. One of Hannah’s teammates tossed in a basket, the whistle blew and they won the game. A minute or so later the two teams gathered at center court for high-fives. Some of the opposing team were crying.

Their coach should have told them they played well and almost won. Instead, he was charging across the court, supposedly because our coach hadn’t gone over to shake his hand.

A couple of parents stopped him, and then some of the mothers from both sides started shouting and threatening each other. I stepped between two women to prevent some hair-pulling and thought I would lose what little hair I have.

What is going on here? I thought. This isn’t the NBA; this is the third grade.

Readers with questions or comments for Roger Pond may write to him in care of this publication.