called Rezballan amped-up style of hoops created on Reservations
and showcased in a huge all-native tourney. But when the games are
done, the stars are left wondering: how long will they get to shine?
couldn't be further from Devon LeBeaux's mind as he stands amid
a row of bare-chested Oglala Lakota Sioux men on South Dakota's
Pine Ridge Indian Reservation. Here in Thunder Valley, he is focused
on the final stretch of the annual Sun Dance ceremony, a centuries-old,
four-day ritual of fasting, praying, chanting and sweating. It's
dusty and hot in the secluded clearing; temps on this June day have
hit 100°. The men are barefoot, dressed only in ceremonial pants.
LeBeaux is thirsty, hungry, sunburned and exhausted. But he stands
there proudly, a red stripe painted across his nose and a sage crown
with two black-and-white feathers atop his buzz cut.
is the fourth summer that LeBeaux has broken himself down to build
up family and tribe. On cue, the brand new high school grad and
other chosen singers belt out the closing chant, which includes
the Lakota word for thanks: Pilamayelo. This year, the ceremony
has been notably rigorous. Two days earlier, with the endless Black
Hills and 140 members of his tribe as witnesses, the lanky six-footer
underwent the voluntary sacrificial act called "hanging."
His shoulder blades pierced with sharpened eagle bones attached
to ropes, he was hoisted from a giant cottonwood tree, until his
flesh ripped and broke him free. Later he, like the rest of the
men, bore streams of dried blood on his back as a reminder of the
offering. Full recovery usually takes several days. But that's time
LeBeaux doesn't have.
team, the Lakota Regulators, is holding its last practices before
heading to Phoenix to make its first appearance in the Native American
Basketball Invitational. The annual national tourney is the biggest
all-Native basketball event in the country, and this 2007 edition
is an even bigger deal because for the first time D1 and D2 scouts
are allowed to attend. So it is a motivated LeBeaux, the spiritual
leader of his team, who arrives at the Little Wound High School
gym the day following the Sun Dance. His half-dollar-size gashes
only starting to heal, he opts to just watch. But while LeBeaux's
energy is low, his spirits are still high. "Now that it's over,
I wish we could start again," he says of the ceremony. "People
A LAKOTA'S STRENGTH WAS TESTED BY GUIDING A HORSE THROUGH
A BUFFALO HERD WHILE SHOOTING A BOW AND ARROW. TODAY, HE
MEASURES HIMSELF ON THE COURT.
LeBeaux talks, his eyes follow his teammates as they go hard in
a heated scrimmage against older guys from around the rez. He cheers
as junior point guard Brice Hornbeck, a rabbit-quick and wily ballhandler,
conducts a lightning-swift rebound/outlet/thread-the-needle-in-traffic
bounce pass/layup sequence. "People like how I fire up the
team," LeBeaux says. "The guys are shy. I'm loud, and
it brings them out of their shells."
scrimmages, as Hornbeck's big German shepherd, LeBron, lounges courtside,
the Regulators discuss how they might measure up against a stacked
NABI field that includes highly rated teams like the Seminoles,
from Florida, and the Apache Rez Runners, from Arizona. The guys
from Pine Ridge have dominated their share of local rez tournaments
and events in South Dakota, North Dakota and Colorado over the previous
four years, but the NABI trophy has become the most prestigious
hardware for a reservation, short of a state titlewhich usually
requires a team to overcome predominantly white and wealthier schools
and, in some cases, refs.
sun-darkened face brightens at the thought of being seen and recruited
at NABI. He says the tourney is going to be fun because he's never
been to Phoenix. But it's clear he's hoping it won't be the last
time hoops takes him off the rez.
Pine Ridge Indian Reservation, roughly the size of Connecticut,
sits 110 miles south of Rapid City, S.D. Many of the 30,000 tribal
members on the rez live in run-down trailers or small, one-story
houses. Some are clustered, others are miles apart. It is a majestically
beautiful, but isolated, place, with no movie theaters or malls.
A new public transit system is just now getting off the ground.
Although Pine Ridge is dry, kids learn early about Whiteclay, Neb.,
a "town," pop. 14, consisting primarily of liquor stores,
just over the state line three miles away. Asked how prevalent drug
and alcohol abuse is on the rez, LeBeaux turns somber. "It's
pitiful," he says. "You see 5- and 10-year-olds smoking
pot, getting junk, too. Meth and coke are the main reasons there
as poverty-stricken urban ghettos spawned graffiti, hip-hop and
streetball as outlets for the anger and frustration housed within,
so has the rural desolation of reservation living produced its own
art form. Rezballas Native Americans have dubbed itis
the most popular sport in Pine Ridge and on scores of reservations
across the country. "Back when we were a great nation roaming
the plains, people didn't make it unless they had physical ability,"
says Regulators head coach Dave Archambault, Hornbeck's grandfather.
"You had to be strong enough to guide a horse into a buffalo
herd using just your legs, so your arms were free to shoot a bow
and arrow. Nowadays, there's nothing else on a reservation that
comes as close to that physicality as basketball."
old Lakota paths to manhood are different from what they once were,
but their imprint remains in the ways young men on the rez now search
for respect. Here, LeBeaux seems to have an advantage, not just
because he can play the revered sport of basketball but because
he is the youngest son of legendary Pine Ridge coach Lyle "Dusty"
LeBeaux. The senior LeBeaux won a state title in 1995 and has led
all three rez high schools to the title game.
bloodlines run deep on the rez. Many people know their forefathers
all the way back to before the Lakota Sioux became a people interrupted.
Reverence is high for the greatness of chiefs like Sitting Bull,
Red Cloud and Crazy Horse, whose brave resistances to being put
on reservations in the mid- and late-1800s included defeating Custer
at Little Big Horn. Many, especially the young, embrace that warrior
culture and try to update it. Not surprisingly, that means a strong
affinity for hip-hop's street culture and ghetto glamorization.
African-Americans tend not to connect slavery to their present-day
obstacles, animosity on the rez about America's past wrongs isn't
buried deep. The Wounded Knee Massacre, where the U.S. Calvary killed
more than 300 unarmed Lakotas in 1890, still resonates. Sun Dances
were once illegal and people were once punished for speaking the
Lakota language. The ill effects of this depressing history have
passed through generations and manifest now as a distrust of schools,
hopelessness and a lack of focus on much beyond day-to-day survival.
"A lot of kids are really angry all the time, and don't know
why," says Matt Rama, basketball coach at Red Cloud High School,
another Pine Ridge institution. LeBeaux's older brother Jerome,
a medicine man who leads the largest Sun Dance on Pine Ridge, has
an idea." People get caught up in 'They did this to us and
we'll never forgive it,' " he says. "Yes it happened,
and it broke our spirit. But we are the ones continuing the cycle
of destruction. So we're trying to break out of that habit through
spirituality, through community, through basketball."
AS POVERTY-STRICKEN GHETTOS SPAWNED GRAFFITI AND HIP-HOP,
SO TOO RESERVATION LIVING HAS PRODUCED ITS OWN ART FORMREZBALL.
so they run. Rezball is a smashmouth game of speed, aggression and
stamina. Full-court presses and man D are applied relentlessly,
but the transition game is the game. Guards often start a break
after receiving the inbounds pass; set plays are rare. Rezball makes
the 2007 Suns look like the 1995 Knicks. Squads with three guys
taller than 6'3" are rare, so even the short guys know how
to play big, and all five positions boast guardlike handles and
shooting skills. Watching the best teams will rivet you to your
seatfrom the way players improvise at warp speed to their
sheer endurance and the dialed-in-but-carefree way they ball.
game is all action, no filler, which is why fans pack local gyms
to see the powerhouse teams square off, and the top players get
their 15 minutes of fame as heroes, asked to sign autographs and
pose for pics after games. But 15 minutes is almost always all rezballers
get. "We've had a lot of talented players around here,"
says LeBeaux. "But they ended up stuck here and started using
drugs and stuff." Few scouts make the trip out to Pine Ridge.
"There's a lot of guys, who if good colleges had asked them
to come, I bet their lives would have been different."
have had offers. Ask anybody which players from Pine Ridge were
D1 good, maybe even NBA good, and they'll mention Jess Heart, a
6'4" USA Today honorable mention whom Kansas State recruited
in 1999 (he chose a junior college but ultimately dropped out),
or Willie White, whose academic struggles prevented his college
career from taking off. But they aren't the only guys on the roll
call of rez talents gone to waste.
ill-prepared for school is a big obstacle between rezball players
and the next level, and so is the culture shock that comes with
trading the familiarity of rez life for the anonymity of the citybecoming
the lone Native American in the dorm. And low retention rates cause
some coaches to think twice about offering a chance in the first
place. Just 33 Native American men and women played on D1 hoops
teams in the 2005-06 season, out of roughly 9,800 athletes. (Native
Americans account for 1.5% of the U.S. population).
it leads to dreams of the NBA, basketball leads first and foremost
to a chance to get more education and, hopefully, better jobs. But
part of the problem is that many kids on the rez hate school. Hard
to blame them. Some have to travel more than 50 miles each way.
Then there's a feeling that the curriculum doesn't speak to them.
But no school means no hoops, so those who want to play endure.
It's hard to pass up those Friday Night Lights moments that have
friends and neighbors coming out in droves to see the kings of the
not a king, LeBeaux is at least a prince. He's a decent shooter
and a tenacious defensive pickpocket. That skill set plus his leadership
qualities would make him a nice addition to most juco squads, for
sure. Maybe even a D2 or D3 program, if he had the grades. But whatever
comes next, he has to factor in the needs of Aiden, his 3-month-old
son. Aiden's arrival helped distract Devon from the unbluntable
trauma of the passing of his mom, Tess, 18 months earlier at age
50. "I went crazy and ran away," LeBeaux says softly.
"I couldn't handle it." Too-early deaths are a reality
all too common in Pine Ridge, where life expectancy is just 48 for
men and 52 for women, in each case about 25 years shorter than in
the rest of the country.
he could line it up, LeBeaux says, he'd take his son and girlfriend,
Brittne, with him to school, get a house, play hoopshopefully,
on scholarshipand try to make it through. But after seeing
the same cycle swallow countless other players on the rez, he knows
it might be his turn. His high school basketball career is over,
and he's got practically no shot left at turning his talent into
a golden ticket. Job prospects are poor as ever in Pine Ridge; unemployment
is over 80%. That's why the NABI tourney looms so large.
Regulators are one of a record 86 boys' and girls' teams from 16
states who have come to Phoenix to compete in the fifth annual NABI,
in July. The tournament, sponsored by rezball admirers in the Phoenix
Suns organization, has drawn the most media attention it has garnered
yet in its quest to create exposure for the game and its top players.
Weary from the travelHornbeck's mom, Billie, drove a van to
Denver, where they caught a cheap flightthey get off to a
slow start. A handful of family members wearing airbrushed Regulators
T-shirts cheer urgently from the bleachers, finally coaxing a rally
that brings their sons back from 14 points down. A dicey first win
under their belts, the team shifts into high gear. A tear through
the next few rounds includes the takedown of the Rez Runners.
tournament's early rounds are hosted at gyms on nearby reservations.
LeBeaux and the others soak it all in, from the Navajo snacks sold
at concession stands, to the Pow Wow drum music that alternates
with hip-hop on the loudspeakers during timeouts, to the Native
American fans of all ages who crowd around the bracket boards in
the lobbies after games. In fact, the players are so engrossed by
the sights and sounds that no one notices the paltry number of people
wielding clipboards in the stands. Buzz about the upstart Regulators
grows among coaches and fans as the team marches to the Final Four,
a showdown in US Airways Center with the Oklahoma-based Cheyenne
Arapaho squad. Before the game, in the visitors' locker room, LeBeaux
leads the team in a chant and prayer to ready everyone for the clash.
Out on the Suns' home floor, LeBeaux and Hornbeck wreak havoc with
crafty steals and precision baseball passes for layups. The Regulators
jump out to a 13-point halftime lead. But Cheyenne Arapaho prove
too tall and too tough, banging underneath and hitting long-range
threes. They go on to win this game and the next, taking the championship.
The Regulators' disappointment at their surprising third-place finish
is compounded by the belated realization that Scouts' Row was mostly
empty until the end. When team and entourage return to Pine Ridge,
Hornbeck's mom drops off each guy at his home. They say simply,
"See ya later," not fully grasping that after playing
together since elementary school, they've played their last game
together as the Regulators.
couldn't be further from Devon LeBeaux's mind as he stands in Thunder
Valley, taking part in his fifth Sun Dance ceremony. The 2008 NABI
is just weeks away, but he won't be going. The former Regulator's
life has been full of challenges since his trip to Phoenix a year
ago. Not long after he and his teammates came back from the tourney,
he headed off to Killeen, Texas, to be with Brittne and Aiden, putting
off enrolling in a local Indian college in the process. After a
few months of looking for work and playing pickup ball, the arrangement
unraveled, and, unable to make it right, he found himself alone
back in Pine Ridge.
played in weekend hoops tourneys around the rez, helped brother
Jerome, took a construction job and wrote rap songs about his mom,
son and life on the rez. This spring, he received an offer to coach
basketball at local Porcupine Day School. Flattered, he still turned
it down. "I want to coach, and I think I could be good at it,"
he says. "But I wasn't ready just yet."
of his former teammates weren't ready to take the next step either.
LeBeaux was bummed to hear that two of three Regulators who went
to play at jucos dropped out. Now both are back. One got a job at
the rehab center; the other is still looking.
Little Wound's season, the three went to games together to try to
pump up Hornbeck, who was staring at a melancholy senior run. "Without
the other guys, I had to change my game and become a scorer,"
says Hornbeck. He rallied to have a monster season, averaging 28
points, 12 boards and nine assistseven scoring 58 one nightand
landing a scholarship from the University of Mary in Bismarck, N.D.
Hornbeck also agreed to join the Red Cloud club team for one last
shot at NABI glory. LeBeaux hasn't given up either. He has renewed
his plans to enroll in an Indian college this fall and walk onto
CLOUD HIGH HAS FOUR BASKETBALL PLAYERS GOING TO COLLEGE
THIS FALL. BUT THE WORRY ISN'T HOW MANY GET THE CHANCE TO
GO AWAYIT'S HOW MANY RETURN BEFORE THEY SHOULD.
hope remains. Red Cloud coach Rama is sending four of his seniors
to junior colleges this fall. That's more than in any of his previous
five years in the job. He says he's had some success in motivating
players to want more for themselves, to think about their futures.
But he knows how the revolving door works. Many kids go off to college,
almost as many come back. Awaiting the next turn is always his quiet
fear. "I try to give them the tools to handle pressures on
and off the court," says Rama. "After that I can just
hope for the best."
they do come back, the game will be waiting, a reason to run and
sweat, another source of tribal spirit. LeBeaux sees his experienceand
that of all the others who played rezball before him with no next
level on the other sideas part of the sacrifice, part of the
cycle that may one day produce a rezball player who can ride his
game to college and beyond. All that wasted talent isn't wasted
at all, LeBeaux says. Like the Sun Dance, there is honor in hardship
endured for the benefit of others.