A bit of cultural theory
In my very first Substack post (24 February 2023), I provided this simple definition of what I mean by a Regime: “the dominant beliefs that inform and guide a collective approach to reality by a group of people.”
In a subsequent post (15 March 2023), I explained how I needed to establish some of the groundwork on which cultural theories are built; otherwise, it might be difficult for readers to understand exactly how I’m carrying out my various probes into our social moment. In that same post, I discussed the slippery nature of language and introduced the linguistic concept of the Sign. Following that post were similar foundational explications of Structuralism (22 March 2023), the madman Derrida and his concept of deconstruction (5 & 12 April), and Reader Response Theory (3 May 2023).
I asked for your patience as I set out all these necessary ideas for you to consider. I also promised, I hope not over-optimistically, that at some point down the line these concepts and theories would start to gel in your mind. Connections would be seen and a bigger picture would come into focus.
I hope those good things have happened because—armed now with our linguistic expertise and readerly acumen—it’s time to start exploring that bigger picture: The Regime.
For our first bit of cultural theory to apply to the Regime, let’s keep it simple. Take a look at the subtitle of this post: Structure determines agency. What I really mean by that is: social structure determines individual agency.
In other words, how a society of any kind is put together has everything to do with how persons within that society behave.
Simple enough, right?
Applying this bit of cultural theory
As a way to demonstrate this bit of cultural theory in action, I’ll apply it to something I know so well and love so much that I sometimes hate it: basketball.
First, I’m going to talk about the social structure of basketball. More specifically, two aspects of how the society of the game is structured: 1) the rules, the rule enforcers, the rule makers; 2) the various customs, values, and ethics of the game.
Second, I’m going to talk about individual agency within the society of basketball. More specifically, how people must conform to it, but equally how they challenge, alter, and even subvert it.
Thus, I’m offering the social construct of basketball—the Regime of basketball—as a microcosm of the workings of our modern society writ large.
The rules: In order to function, basketball needs a set of rules. Laws, so to speak. The dimensions of the court. What’s in- and out-of-bounds. A shot made from here is worth so many points; a shot made from there is worth so many points. What fouls are. How many fouls a player may commit before there are consequences. How many fouls a team may commit before there are penalties. A player can take only one-and-a-half steps without dribbling the ball (for certain star players in the NBA, anywhere from three to five steps seems permissible). And so on. Basketball is full of rules. Such laws are the framework of social order.
The rule enforcers: These are the referees. Police, so to speak. Refs are armed with uniforms (striped shirts), weapons (whistles), and clout (the Rule Book). Monitoring the run of play is exclusively in their hands. When a ref blows a whistle, everything stops—including Time. When a ref says something to you, you listen. When a ref calls a violation of the rules on you, you have no choice but to comply with how that ref saw the play unfold. A ref’s vision of the basketball world is the only version of reality that counts. In theory, yes, refs are there simply to insure the smooth and happy functioning of the social order taking place within the structural confines of the court. In practice, however, the primary job of refs is to coerce sanctioned behavior in players—Citizens, so to speak—via the constant threat of punishment. (Thank you for the speeding ticket, Officer.)
The rule makers: Two types of rule maker to consider in basketball are the coach and the league officials. Government, so to speak. A coach sets and puts into effect various team regulations—practice times, curfews, dress codes, personal conduct protocols, and so forth. A coach is like a state government establishing local laws for the team society that exists within the wider society of basketball. League officials play the larger role of a federal government. They manage the collection of team-states as a whole that comprise their league or conference. Such officials create the game schedule for the season, handle post-season play all the way to crowning a champion, deliberate rule changes and policy recommendations, adjudicate disputes among teams, mete out sanctions and suspensions when necessary, and the like. The League is the ultimate overseer of The Republic of Hoops, so to speak.
Customs, values, and ethics: Along with the above hard-and-fast laws and empowered supervisors of basketball society, there’s another form of structure in operation. One that is less strict, more nebulous, and works not by command—Thou shalt not double-dribble!—but by inducement—Gosh, isn’t it better to avoid the personal embarrassment of double-dribbling, of being responsible for losing the ball and letting down your teammates, and of not fitting well into the social order of the game?
Institutions are developed to carry out this simultaneous enticement-goading. Youth basketball camps of many sorts exist, advertising greatness-in-waiting for participants and often featuring an “academy” atmosphere where young players come to learn the game. As a teen, I went to both Willis Reed’s All-Star Basketball Camp and Camp Wahoo (if you can believe that name) where Jerry West was featured as an instructor. Both experiences changed my game and my basketball world. As a kid, my son went to the Carolina Basketball School at UNC, Chapel Hill where he rubbed elbows and ran the break with the best. My daughters went to the Beth Burns Basketball Camp at Ohio State, where an Ohio State player nicknamed one of my daughters “Big H.” To this day I often call her Big H.
Another institution to teach basketball skills and to instill basketball character is the thousands of youth leagues around the country and, indeed, the world. From the humblest Biddy Basketball team—where little kids stumble adorably around the court—to the most high-flying Amateur Athletic Union squad—where players are bound for top college teams and some, eventually, for the NBA and the WNBA—absorbing basketball quiddity is the aim. I’ve coached youth teams in several such leagues. My older daughter—a poised and statuesque lass who can really shoot the 3—played on an AAU team that made it to the National Tournament one year. My younger daughter—Big H—was by far the best point guard in the league on her middle school and high school teams.
What these institutions strive to teach young players is discipline in two senses of that word. 1) The personal willpower and virtuous habit of working hard to master the skills of the game so that you can reap the benefits and gain the recognition of being an exemplary and contributing member of basketball society. 2) Being trained to follow the rules and conditioned to adhere to the doctrines of basketball culture.
Yes, these two forms of discipline are contradictory.
Yet another “soft” structure of basketball society designed to inculcate the values of the game is the “team culture” fostered by coaches. Even more than team rules, coaches work to cultivate a belief system for players to buy into. These often get expressed as mantras or platitudes: “Respect the Game”; “Play the Right Way”; “Play Duke Basketball”; “Forty Minutes of Hell”; “Hit the Open Man.” Coaches consider it indispensable for players to embrace the team culture. Those who don’t will not thrive in the program.
There’s also something of a Code of Honor in effect among players. Don’t intentionally hurt anybody—especially when a player is up in the air. Don’t cherry-pick. On the playground, call your own fouls—but anybody calling obviously bogus fouls is a real asshole. Such ethical standards can promote something of a Camaraderie Among Rivals feel to the game.
All of these ideals and moral norms act as inexplicit yet potent influences on any youngster setting sneaker into The Republic of Hoops.
Individual agency: An important feature of any society is that those who control it like to present the social order they oversee as Absolute, as Natural, as Truth, as the Best, as the Most Reasonable, as what God intends. Yep, we’re back to that Transcendental Signified business where certain views of the world are depicted and imposed as The One And Only View Of The World. (You know the drill: Truth, Justice, and the American Way.) The Regime of basketball is no different. All players must obey and conform to the social structures established within basketball society.
However.
Anyone even remotely acquainted with the game of basketball knows that none of those hard rules or soft traditions described above go off without a hitch. Why don’t they?
Because individual persons are carrying them out.
And that individuality foments change. Sometimes good change, sometimes bad change (depending on one’s perspective). Sometimes change made by those at the top, sometimes change forcing its way up from below. Whatever the case, individual behavior floods the social order with the potential for chaos. The resulting disorder is everything from leaks in the dike to renovations of the levee system to embankment overflows to dams bursting. It’s reasonable, then, to think of all societies having at least one thing in common.
Social order is always a system under pressure.
The Regime of basketball is no different. If the game were, in fact, Absolute and Natural and as God forever deemed it to be, well, then whenever Lebron threw one down, a guy sitting on top of a ladder would pluck the ball out of the peach basket to put back in play.
Let’s explore some ways that structure and agency interact in basketball.
The laws of basketball are always shifting. When I played in college, we weren’t allowed to dunk. (Not that that was a particular hardship for me.) Nor was there a 3-point line. If you hoisted one up from 25 feet out, you just booked your ticket to riding the pines. The game back then was one based on dribble penetration and stop-and-pop. Nowadays, pull-up jumpers—what used to be the bread-and-butter of the game—are more or less a lost art and tactic of last resort. On the defensive side, hard-nosed, Bobby Knight help-side rotations prevailed. Now you don’t dare help out too much for fear of leaving a 3-point shooter free.
Such rule changes are perfect examples of structure determining agency.
Change the configuration of the game—the dunk and the 3-point shot—and the behavior of players and coaches readjusts to the new circumstances. While dunks are always welcome, for my money, the 3-point shot has diluted the dynamism of the game. Regular-season NBA games now tend to be drab affairs featuring eight guys standing 23 feet, 9 inches away from the basket (22 feet in the corners) watching two guys play one-on-one. Snore. The momentary thrill of a made 3 hardly makes up for these long stretches of inertia. If you want to watch some intricate, active, and therefore interesting hoops, the women’s game has far more to offer.
Enforcing the laws of basketball is always shifting. No fan needs to be told that refereeing is subjective as hell. One time when I was playing in the Swiss Basketball Federation, a teammate was fouled hard while driving to the basket. The ref (and Euro refs are particularly bizarre with their calls) blew his whistle and promptly called a double-foul. Our team was incensed until the ref made it clear that he was giving fouls to two defensive players because he thought them both equally guilty of the crime. At that point the other team got incensed.
Refs also can adjust to the times and the changing style of play—that is, if league officials tell them to (always for the sake of bringing in more revenue). Back in the day when I played, if you didn’t dribble with a hand absolutely squarely on top of the ball, you got called for a carry. Can you imagine how many more career points Jerry West would have scored not only had he played with a 3-point shot, but had he been allowed to carry the ball the way players do now—let alone get away with two or three extra steps?
The decisions of the law makers is always shifting. In every league, a Rules Committee convenes during the off-season to tinker. And don’t get me started on the labyrinthine bylaws of the NCAA. Equally, when it comes to a coach’s set-in-stone team rules, well, if your leading scorer is the one caught with a prohibited substance—or hit with an assault charge—those rules start to bend.
The customs, values, and ethics of the game are always in flux. Coaches love to tout honesty and loyalty, yet many coaches routinely sweet-talk recruits and lie to players—that scholarship they promised somehow ending up on a permanent delay of “Gee, let’s just wait and see how things develop...” By the same token, players lie to coaches all the time, pretending to buy into a coach’s kumbaya vision for a Team Culture—all the while flouting every tenet of that precious worldview. As for a player Code of Honor or Camaraderie Among Rivals, well, when push comes to shove, fuck that shit. I need to get my points. I need to maximize my playing time. By any means necessary.
Likewise, quite noticeable during NBA post-season play—when a lot of money is on the line—is what’s euphemistically called “playoff basketball.” Translated, it means not only that actual defense starts to get played, but that the “hard foul” becomes an acceptable feature of the game. More often than not, that hard foul occurs when an offensive player is up in the air driving to the hoop. It’s open season. The most notorious example of this treachery is the “Bad Boys” of the Detroit Pistons doing their best to land Michael Jordan in the hospital. So, in short, camaraderie my ass.
So what?
In any society, there’s the ideal—and there’s what’s really going on.
On top of that giant incongruity, both the ideal and the what’s really going on are always shifting. This maelstrom of ambiguity swirling inside of any Regime adds up to one whole hell of a lot for the individual to navigate.
As for me, when it came to the Regime of basketball, I did all the right things. I practiced hard. I developed my skills. I was an astute student of the game. I boxed-out like my life depended on it—because, in terms of snagging the rebound, it did. But, physically, I simply didn’t have the vertical leap or the lateral quickness to compete above a certain level—no matter how hard I tried to enhance those abilities. In the end, as a citizen of The Republic of Hoops, I wasn’t able to achieve all that I’d hoped and dreamed. In the end, I felt defeated. After all these years, part of me still does.
But them’s the breaks.
Happily, my kids have fared much better. They all realized how, as in The Great Gatsby, the dream is not worthy of the dreamer. Sports fame and fortune is for the very, very few. And even then it likely isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. None of them settled on basketball as a primary sport. Two went with soccer (basically hoops played with feet) and one with cross-country and track (where Zen and conditioning meet). They all did extremely well. But none of them bought into anything like the Hoops Dreams I bought into.
It’s really nice when your kids are smarter than you are.
Love this one! Especially since I'm in it!
Yes, and I would note that the author, a definite member and conformer to/of the hoops regime, once derisively corrected my faux pas of referring to his "basketball shoes" as "sneakers" (circa 1972).