For the rotation of guys in the Noon-time Basketball Association (NBA) that’s what it’s all about, playing.
“I just enjoy playing basketball,” said Professor Tobey Herzog. “We take the game seriously and there’s good sportsmanship, but essentially it’s about fun.”
For 27 years, Herzog has played in the NBA, an eclectic league of professors, students, administrators and faculty family members who meet two to three times weekly for a lunch’s worth of full-court basketball. Herzog is the League Commissioner, but he’s not sure why.
“I think it’s because my ball is the official NBA ball,” he said smiling.
In the NBA there are no set teams. There are no drawn plays. There are no age limits or skill requirements. There are no uniforms—just shirts versus skins.
But that doesn’t mean these guys don’t have game.
According to four-year NBA veteran Brent Harris, Wabash’s sports information director, Noon-time isn’t your average street pick-up game.
“There are probably more screens set here than in some bad college programs,” he said with a chagrin.
“We have a motto,” Herzog said. “Age and court savvy can overcome youth, exuberance and athleticism.” More often than not their motto rings true.
During Noon-time flashy dunks give way to crisp bounce passes to cutters in the lane. During Noon-time isolation basketball loses its meaning. During Noon-time the mid-range jump shot flourishes.
“There’s nothing like watching Tobey drain a 17-footer in my face,” said senior and three-year NBA veteran Nick Roersma.
In a game to eight by ones (the 3-point line is just for aesthetics in the NBA), a savvy sharp-shooter can be deadly.
“If you’re on Tobey’s team you now that your first goal is to set screens for him,” Harris said. “He’ll hit the shot.”
Sure there are bragging rights at stake, but humility reigns in an NBA without shoe contracts. Herzog said simply, “I like to shoot.”
In a league of their own.
As is true with all sports, Noon-time is as much about socializing as it is about basketball.
“Chick” Clements ’H77, retired sports equipment manager, has played in the NBA for 37 years.
At 68-years-old he admits he doesn’t get up the court as quickly as he used to—his knee brace is evidence of that—and at five feet, seven inches and roughly 150 pounds, he’s not exactly an inside force.
“Oh, it’s awful,” Clements chuckled at his physical difficulties.
But under the backwards baseball cap and loose blue tank top he wears during each game, Clements possesses something more impressive than height and speed: experience and a love for the game.
Some people his age mingle with friends at the local diner during lunch. Clements runs up and down 90 feet of hardwood with players one-third his age.
His reason: “I love the students,” he said. “I love the camaraderie.”
Amid profanities that fly faster than some of the players, amid hard screens and boiling competitive spirit, camaraderie is the NBA’s raison d’etre.
“When I travel to other schools I see their intramural schedules and the faculty never has a team,” Harris said. “Noon-time is a perfect example of Wabash being Wabash.”
For Roersma, who spent much of a game matched up against one of his senior comprehensive board members, the student-professor amity is nothing new.
“I think professors treat students more like colleagues in the classroom than students,” he said. “That just carries over on the court.”
This article first appeared in The Bachelor, the Wabash College student newspaper.