Guest Column | Rez ball is a different kind of beast

By Elijah Mike

It’s not a feeling you ever get used to. Arriving at the venue – whether it be a round of state or rivalry game – every sport is different.

It’s a feeling that I’ve experienced numerous times since I was a kid but that feeling will always feel new to me each time. The buzz and the anticipation in the air as you wait in line to support your family member or your alma mater.

Thinking about the times when the lines have wrapped around the entire building and even witnessing the Chinle boys’ game where 500-plus fans had to be turned away because the building was at capacity.

Then, there was my first time ever in the Phoenix Suns Arena in the 90s where I watched my cousin and the Monument Valley boys win the 3A state basketball tourney. I remember being captivated with how big the building was and then stunned at how tall the other teams’ players were – that environment, setting and energy of the crowd is still one of my fondest childhood memories. A true David and Goliath story.

Rez ball is a different kind of beast that brings an unmatched energy to normally dormant arenas. Friends, family and strangers travel from all over to watch these young athletes compete.

Especially when you think you got to the arena early enough to secure good seats, then you see a Navajo woman give you a stern look as you attempt to sit in a seat that is only partially touched by a Pendleton blanket or a jacket.

For many of us, it is a family reunion of sorts. Members coming together from the Valley, California, the rez and even the Midwest (for my family). Familiar faces, friends, family and laughter have a way of making the heart feel whole again as we get ready to watch and cheer on our team.

The comradery of making shirts, signs and painting faces has evolved over the years and makes for an aesthetically moving image if you scan the crowd.

Snacks have been bought and you account for 15 or 17 children that the family collectively brought to the game (joking, we eventually get 17 of 17).

Someone has helped grandma and grandpa up the stairs to get to the seats. The new boyfriends/girlfriends are reluctantly introduced, and you are all caught up on the family gossip.

Now it’s game time. The anticipation builds and builds leading to that tip off or serve of the ball.

Some teams are familiar with each other, some aren’t. Some players are even kin but on different teams. Nonetheless, once that whistle blows, all is fair in love and war.

The loud thuds of feet stomping and hands clapping in rhythm take over the arena – “DEE-FENSE! DEE-FENSE!”

Different chants for different teams and sports. Sometimes the noise reduces to a dull drone of crowd noise as a play unfolds, only to erupt seconds later into a deafening roar that is indescribable and can only be fully experienced in person.

A crowd so vigorous and loud that you can’t even hear the person next to you. A sound so intense that it defies physics and displaces molecules making it hard to breathe – the sound is so powerful that it reverberates in your heart. There is truly nothing like it.

It brings me so much pride to see these young athletes compete, knowing where we came from. The things that many face growing up – poverty, lack of basic infrastructure, racism, prejudice, addiction, generational trauma, polarizing political climates and negative stereotypes.

Despite all of that, we remain a very proud people. As I was growing up, sports gave me purpose. From making up plays on our dirt court at home with our friends to when we were lucky enough to see the lights of a gym. That is an upbringing unique to our reservation that makes us special.

With that sentiment bringing virtue to my soul, I feel the emotions of the players who win and the players who lose. To see these young adults leave it all on the floor in that passionate environment is a truly humbling experience.

Regardless of the game’s outcome, these young adults should take solace knowing that they are bringing families together and ultimately, a people together, in an atmosphere so phenomenal – I will remember it for the rest of my life.

Elijah Mike is a purchasing agent for the Prosthetic & Sensory Aid Service at the Veterans Administration’s Health Care System in Phoenix. From Tsaile, Arizona, he attended Chinle High, was in the Army for eight years, then in 2016 graduated from Arizona State University with a bachelor’s degree in sustainability, and now lives in the Valley.

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