2002 - University of Washington Bone and Joint Sources

My Dad The Shooter - A Case For Specialization
JAMES W. STRICKLAND, M.D.
My dad could really shoot the
basketball. He developed his
skills in the small town of
Owensville Indiana (pop. 450) where
growing boys had little else to do but
play basketball. Dad’s father was an old
time country doctor who was
frequently called away to tend to the
sick, make house calls or deliver babies.
As a result dad had alot of time alone
and he spent it like many rural Indiana
boys did; shooting baskets. He spent
countless solitary hours in his back yard
on a wide dirt patch where the grass had
been worn away by the constant impact
of basketballs and tennis shoes. At the
back of the patch was a basketball goal
not unlike thousands of others which
could be seen throughout the Indiana
countryside and from which numerous
wonderful Hoosier players have been
spawned over the years. The goal, which
his father had erected for him, consisted
of a wooden backboard with a black
metal rim and a ragged grey net
supported by, a stout, rusted metal pipe
firmly anchored in the ground with
concrete. Dad’s unchanging routine
consisted of monotonously dribbling a
worn leather ball out to a variety of
positions well away from the goal; he
would then turn, square himself with
the basket and shoot the classic
two-handed set shot that would
become his trade mark. He would then
follow the ball to the basket, retrieve it
and shoot again. This sequence would
be repeated time after time until my
grandmother would call him in or it
became too dark for him to continue.
These private shooting practices were
a year around ritual. Occasionally he
would be joined by other boys and they
would go to another goal around town
or the high school gymnasium where
they would play pick-up games. But, for
the most part, it was a lonely self
discipline and it produced a very good
shooter.
For a small town, the Owensville
boys basketball team was pretty
competitive and dad was easily their
best player. He was big boned, about six
feet tall by his Junior year and he
quickly learned to use his height and
weight to his advantage. He possessed
an innate understanding of the game,
was an intense competitor and, above
all, he became a deadly shooter from
almost any position on the court. From
1924 until 1926 Owensville won a lot
of games. They beat the big Evansville
teams on a regular basis, won their
sectional tournament two out of three
years and almost never lost in the
confines of their own gym; which,
incidentally, is believed to have had the
first glass backboards in the state of
Indiana. The gym also had a well
localized dead spot on the basketball
floor and the members of the team
learned to entice opposing players to
dribble over the spot during crucial
moments of a game. When the ball
failed to return to the dribbler’s hand
the anticipating defensive player would
scoop it up and proceed unmolested for
a basket.
From Owensville, dad went 100
miles northeast to Indiana University
where he played for Everett Dean and
with Indiana legend Branch
McCracken. He led the team in scoring
his junior years and was selected as
Indiana’s second All-American (third
team, College Humor Magazine) in
1929. As a Senior, his playing time was
restricted to a half of each game by a
physician who thought he detected a
heart murmur. Throughout his college
career dad’s shooting ability was the
predominate feature of his game. It was
described in at least one national sports
publication as the classic, perfect form,
underhanded set shot.
After college, dad went to New York
City where he played for five years at
what was then the mecca of U.S.
amateur sports, the New York Athletic
Club. During those years he taught and
coached underprivileged boys at a
church and played professional
basketball in upstate New York under
the name Stricklevitch in order to make
some money and preserve his amateur
status. When mother, announced that
I was on the way in 1935, dad decided
that they should return home to
Indianapolis to settle down and raise a
family. Dad would not play organized
basketball again, but that shot; that
glorious shot, became famous in every
neighborhood we ever lived in.
No basketball player today, at any
level, shoots the ball the way players did
back then. I truly believe, that dad’s
form was absolutely text book for the
two-handed shot. He was a big man for
that time at six feet one and he weighed
210 pounds. His hands were fairly large
but he could barely palm the laced
leather basketballs of his period.
Perhaps the key to the shot was the way
he positioned his hands on the ball. His
fingers were spread to maximum
separation and placed on each side of
the ball with his thumbs pointed
straight upward and his fingers aligned
directly out from his body. The shot was
started just above the waist and about
six inches out from his body with the
wrists straight ahead. He would initiate
the shot by pulling his arms back
slightly at the shoulder and rotating his
hands so that his fingers were pointing
downward and his thumbs were
pointing out towards the basket. This
motion was quickly reversed as his arms
thrust forward at the shoulder and his
wrists snapped upward. His hands were
well past their original position with his
thumbs pointed towards his body at the
time of release. This rolling movement
resulted in a tremendous amount of
backspin; more, I believe, than most
players today achieve with their
one-handed shots. The trajectory and
direction of dad’s shot was rarely
inaccurate and he would only miss if
the shot was a bit long or short. Even
then, the softness of the
semi-underhanded delivery and the
reversed spin that he created would
often hold the ball to the rim where,
after a bounce or two, it would almost
always fall through. He could hit that
shot with deadly accuracy from five to
thirty feet from the basket with only
slight variation in his basic form. Free
throws were almost automatic and,
after he retired from active competition,
he could stand at any free-throw line
and hit shot after shot with the ball
rarely touching the rim.
From 1941 until 1946, dad was the
Indiana Director of the Office of Price
Administration (OPA) and was
subsequently asked to run for Governor
2 2002 ORTHOPAEDIC RESEARCH REPORT