We at the site would like to thank Simon Behan for this piece... Simon for those of us don't know is an ex underage star for the club. He was part of Martin Grennell's superb underage teams. He has won all irelands medals at all levels underage and was just breaking through into the superleague set up when he got the oppertunity to go away to america to continue his basketball on scholarship in Middlebury College in Vermont. Simon has moved to work in West Palm Beach in Florida .

Simon from a true basketball family, is the older brother of John Behan who is currently a major part of the mens superleague team and his 3 sisters Mary, Anne and Ruth are all still involved with the club as both players and coaches. Simon is the son of Jimmy and Carol Behan who are valued members of the club, Carol as ex club secretary and Jimmy has done everything from underage girls and boys coach to starting up the Special Olympics section in the club. Sporting blood runs through Simon's veins as his grandfather Billy Behan kept goal for the famous red devils of Manchester United. Thank's Simon and hopefully there is more to come......

A day in the life of a Jupiter Men’s League basketball player


It is 6:48PM. Wednesday. I park my ’95 Toyota Avalon ( It's a Toyota Carina E!! ) as close to the entrance to the gym as possible, which tonight it seems will be made more difficult by some sort of town gathering in another section of the building. I place my phone and my money clip out of sight in the armrest and make sure nothing of value is visible through the windows. Contrary to how it looks from the outside, there are sometimes valuables (laptop, aforementioned money clip, checkbook) in the car, but not even the most savvy thief would ever dream of breaking into the Avalon. It would be something like mugging a homeless person. I grab my basketball boots and my spare t-shirt (tonight it is a black shirt that says “dare to be Cointreau-versial” on the back) and head towards the gym. As I get closer I can see the sign above the door glimmering like a beacon in the night. “Jewish Community Centre.” Home of the Jupiter Men’s Basketball League.

             It is mid-season and the League is in full swing. Team Pyro’s Grille (two of our players own the restaurant that sponsors our jerseys) is undefeated at 7-0. Fresh off a three point victory against bitter rivals Jupiter Lighthouse Realty, we are looking to stretch our win streak to 8 (13 if you are to count our Tuesday night league, but that is a story for another day). Each team has two games a week, on Monday and Wednesday, and at the end of the regular season there is a playoff for the top eight teams. There are four games per night at 6:00, 7:00, 8:00, and 9:00.Tonight we have the 7:00 game. The competition varies from ex-division one players to guys who would not make an U13 girls team (or at least not get serious minutes).

            As I enter the gym, I begin to go through my pregame ritual. I can hear my theme song playing in my head, tonight it is “I Kissed a Girl and I Liked it” by Katy Perry, as that was the last song on the radio before I got out of the car. The anticipation builds as I pace methodically towards the gym, and heightens as I go to the front desk to sign in. Jamaal at the front desk gives me a knowing nod (but still requires me to sign in). As I open the door and take my first step on the parquet floor, I begin to survey the opposition. This is common practice, as night to night, there is no telling what you might face. I generally grade the players from the opposing team on an ascending scale starting with “basic motor skills,” moving on to “able to make a lay-up consistently,” then to “able to dribble” and so on. Tonight opponents look to have about eight players. I immediately place five of them slightly above the “basic motor skills” category but well below “able to make a lay-up consistently.” In fact, as I walk towards the bleachers to change into my boots, I see two of the worst field goal attempts I have come across in my many years in the game. Three of them look like they might be able to play.

             Usually the warm-up time ranges somewhere between one and three minutes, but tonight it looks like the game before us was forfeited by one of the scheduled teams (an unfortunately common occurrence in the league). It’s 6:54. Including myself, we have three players at this point, and we begin to warm up, slowly working the stiffness out of our legs with some three point attempts. At 6:58 our fourth player shows up and we decide at that point to up the tempo with a lay-up line. As a rule, a team must have four players for the game to start, otherwise they forfeit. Tonight it seems we will have to get the job done with the bare minimum, as the referee’s whistle sounds and we head towards our bench for a final thought before the game.

              We decide to sit in a 1-2-1 zone, forcing them out of the middle and taking our chances with their three-point shooting from the corners. Ironically, even with four players, it is clear that we are more eager to push the pace, and we convert three early missed three-point attempts into fast-break scores. I also notice in the early minutes of the game, that I may have over-estimated the ability of the three guys I thought could play.
            
Team Pyro’s Grille is a fast-paced and up-tempo team. Our center/forward and shooting guard both played at Miami (they didn’t play much, but it is the ACC), and are solid players who know how to play the game. We have a 6-4 guard who played in Junior College and can jump out of the gym. He is also the loudest member of the team, and at times I am sure even he does not have the slightest idea what he is talking about. A 6-8 lefty forward with a nice stroke and a 6-2 defensive bruiser round out the squad.
            
Even with four players it is clear tonight’s game is not going to be a contest. We lead by twenty five at the half. Throngs of seven or eight people have showed up to watch the game, most of them girlfriends of the opposition. I always find it interesting when guys bring their girlfriends to watch them play basketball when it is very clear that they can’t in fact play basketball. It would be something like asking your girlfriend to watch you in a serious dance competition using only your ridiculous night-club moves.
            
The game ends with a final score line of 94-42. All in a day’s work for this veritable melting pot of basketballing talent.
            
It is 7:57. I head to the bench where I have carefully placed my spare t-shirt and car keys. Fives and fist pounds are exchanged and the lonely trek back to the Avalon begins. I give Jamaal a friendly point as I leave the gym (which I am not sure he sees) and stroll through the parking lot. Once inside the car I check my phone messages. No missed calls. Although it seems like it, it is not all glitz and glamour for a player in this league. I start the car and make my way home to grade a pile of papers that taunt me from my kitchen table.
            
Five days until Monday, and we do it all again.