Beyond the Basketball Court: Place, Connection, Memory and Letting Go

Abstract

Looking out from the window of my HDB block, I see the court sitting precisely where it always had. Enclosing the court is a four-sided, green wire fence that rises like a cage. Outside, the court gives a sense of containment, whereas inside, it feels exclusive. Stepping onto the court, memories rush in, overwhelming my mind like a long-forgotten treasure chest that has been pried open, spilling out memories of the distant past. There was this smell in the air, that of a faint rubber scent of a worn-out basketball, accompanied by the echoes of bouncing basketball against the court—a rhythm that remained unchanged through the years. I could feel the life of the court purring softly beneath my feet as though the ground itself held the weight of every game, every step, and every memory made here. The court, once worn with deep cracks and patches of paint rubbed away, now gleams with a fresh coat of sky blue and matte red paint.