BASKETBALL ON NEW YORK CITY'S 700+ OUTDOOR COURTS was bubbling during the seventies and eighties and coincided with the birth of hip-hop and sneaker culture. Bobbito García came of age during this era and caught an uncontrollable fever to be a ballplayer, witnessing firsthand the gumbo of sports, music, and fashion in the local parks. The game influenced his style, language, movement, creative thought, and, in a personal manner, his well-being. He couldn't go anywhere without a ball in his hand, practice shorts under his pants, and kicks on his feet, ready for action at any point, any day (including his first job interview).
In the 1990s, Bobbito became a world-famous hip-hop radio host as well as the progenitor of sneaker journalism, but his world never stopped revolving around living and breathing at every local court he could find. Simultaneously, the outdoor basketball aesthetic emerged as a force in the sports/entertainment/footwear industry, a catalyst to market authenticity when a brand wanted to garner street credibility. Bobbito stood firmly at this cross section of subcultures, not only as a historian, photographer, writer, filmmaker, and active participant, but as a curator of the shift itself. Advertising legend John Jay, former global creative director at Wieden+Kennedy, called García his "cultural DJ" after they collaborated on Nike's groundbreaking "NYC City Attack" ad campaign. The lifestyle of the park pickup player, now exposed, went on to impact the world, and the ripple effect could even be seen on the hardwood floors of the NBA.
In 2013, the New York Times referred to Bobbito as "an ardent ambassador for New York City street basketball." This book is an intimate view into his life as a ballplayer, announcer, and performer. It doubles as a profound document for the unspoken folklore and history of the outdoor game, while speaking volumes to the roots of García's favorite pastime--putting up jumpers and getting busy with the rock in his hands. In his words: Basketball is a religion. The park is my church . . .
