A group of hijabi women gathering to play ball at their Scarborough mosque. A 17-year-old who is already busy coaching and mentoring the next generation of Regent Park youngsters. An Orangeville grandmother settling down on her very own team bench alongside her grandson on game night.

These are the faces of Raptors fans tucked away in all corners of the GTA and beyond. The thread that ties them together is their passion for a game that makes them feel like a part of a pulsing community — regardless of race, gender, social status, and age.

In recent weeks The Star dropped into the mosque, the barbershop, the elementary school gym, places where basketball culture — and connections — thrive, amplified by a team and a fanbase that’s as diverse as the city.

As Toronto gears up for a defining Game Seven conference semifinal showdown with the Philadelphia 76ers Sunday night, these are the stories of those who see their passion and themselves represented in the Raptors.

HIJABI BALLERS, SCARBOROUGH

“I feel like with basketball, people can see themselves as people — and we’re capable of doing this or that because of how culturally diverse it is.”

Hibbo Omar, 14, is inside the gym of Scarborough’s Salaheddin Islamic Centre, where a fast and frenetic basketball game is well underway.

Cheers break out after a three-point basket.

“Block someone!” Afnan Assoweh, 14, yells. “Drive up, look around.”

The game pauses briefly as the Grade 9 student demonstrates how to properly inbound the ball. Having played basketball with the boys at her school, and watched the Toronto Raptors with her older brother, Assoweh is confident that despite her age, she can help coach the other women in the room. A first-time baller nods, imitates the action, and steps back into the five-on-five.

It’s Sunday evening, and as visitors enter and exit the mosque for prayer, the Hijabi Ballers are living up to their name. In this weekly drop-in, Muslim women are invited to sharpen their skills, even if it’s their first time touching a basketball.

Hijabi Ballers was founded in 2017 by Amreen Kadwa, 23, as an ode to the athleticism of visibly Muslim women. According to its website, the organization aims “to increase representation, and consequently participation, of Muslim females in sports spaces and sports programs in the city.” In addition to Sunday ball nights, Hijabi Ballers currently offers an intro to tennis program and will be hosting a sports festival July 7. The initiative also recently collaborated on a video project with Nike to celebrate visibly Muslim female athletes in the GTA.

Hijabi athlete Shireen Ahmed, who is a member of the Hijabi Ballers advisory board, says the lack of accommodation and exclusion from sport was one of her biggest obstacles. “I was turned away from the soccer field because of my decision to cover,” she says. “It was something that didn’t need to happen.”

There are also misconceptions, adds Ahmed. One being that wearing hijab is dangerous in sport, another being that it’s something forced upon women.

But Ahmed doesn’t feel bothered by wearing hijab. She prefers it.

“Hijab is not a preventative piece of cloth,” she says. “Women play any sport you can imagine from basketball to surfing to table tennis to soccer to beach volleyball to para-bocce ball. Wearing hijab is an extremely personal decision. And one that shouldn’t affect an athlete’s ability or right to partake in sport.”

And in this gym, with Persian rugs rolled up in one corner and benches lining the sides of the court, the Hijabi Ballers find their sanctuary to pursue that goal — to be involved in sport and stay active. Today, they’re playing a full-court game with a mix of beginners and more experienced players — building up their physical and spiritual strength for Ramadan, which started at the beginning of May.

Suddenly, Nadia Mohamud sneaks a behind-the-back assist. Assoweh hits the bucket. Cheers erupt. Team Blanched Potatoes: up one point.

“You guys are actually so good, and I can see week after week people are improving,” Kadwa says to the group of 15. Among them are aunts and mothers, putting in as much effort as the teens. They fight ferociously for the ball. Blocks, offensive rebounds, interceptions.

“Who’s winning? What’s the score?” players yell out. Amid confusion, they agree that the next point will define the winner. Things are suddenly tense. A burst of energy leads to a turnover. With a pull-up to the free throw line, the ball sinks. Splash. Team Blanched Potatoes wins.

As a part of their weekly ball sessions, the players engage in a short debrief, sharing their successes, challenges, or anything else in a safe space with their Muslim sisters. They sit around the centre ring of the gym, talking and sharing cucumbers, granola bars, juice boxes.

“Basketball is actually one of the few sports where I’m running around, and it doesn’t feel like I’m working out. And it’s part of Ramadan to take care of your body and your soul,” Deqa Farah, 28, says to the group. “You’re fasting, and it’s spiritually helping you. So I hope even after Iftar, I don’t want to stop doing this. Basketball has given me a boost to start working out.”

It is Amal Elmayed’s first time coming to the run. She says she is grateful to have a “safe space that we can play in whatever attire,” referring to the fact that the women are welcome to play with or without hijab. “It’s nice to have other fellow Muslim sisters to play with. When I was growing up there wasn’t that many other Muslim women that played, but now we can see that here.”

Representation is a big part of what draws the women to basketball. With Raptors fans in the group, they say cheering for Toronto’s team comes with feeling connected. It’s something Ahmed, who is also an acclaimed sportswriter, can attest to.

“The team itself is so diverse and reflects the people and mindsets of this amazing city,” she says.“Their work ethic and their commitment to the GTA Raps family is what makes them approachable and loveable. And is what makes them winners.”

Assoweh, who attends the “very diverse” French immersion school, École secondaire Étienne-Brûlé in North York, concurs.

“In basketball, and the Raptors, I can see myself and find any skin tone, or country. We can use ball as an example, as an ideal for every other sport,” she says. “It’s OK to be a person of colour and allow yourself to just try something.”

As it gets close to 7 p.m., the debrief wraps up. Some hurry to put back on their hijab, then they all pose for a photo.

On the way to the door, one baller shouts: “Have to head out. The Raptors are playing now!”

MAUREEN KELLY, ORANGEVILLE

“Nick Nurse can hear me coaching from here!”

Here is Maureen Kelly’s living room in Orangeville, on the outer fringes of the GTA, 80 kilometres from the Scotiabank Arena where the Raptors coach stalks the sidelines.

But that expanse between Nurse and the 51-year-old grandmother may as well be shouting distance as far as Kelly is concerned. It’s game night and perched on her own bench alongside her partner Peter Weber and grandson Ryan, Kelly is in playoff mode.

She doesn’t miss a single game. When the Raptors play, the #WeTheNorth flags are out, red tees are on, and her favourite spot in front of the TV — her beige armchair — becomes the Raptors bench. But it can be a busy spot.

While Weber is more of a hockey fan…Kelly bleeds Raptors’ red. Earlier on, with both of Toronto’s teams in playoff action, scheduling conflicts cropped up.

“We do have more than one TV but I prefer watching the games together,” she says. “We ended up having to go back and forth — choosing to watch the game that was more important for the team at the time. But I’m team Raptors all the way — they’re Canada’s team.”

For all the joy and excitement these Raptors have brought the country, they bring distraction too. And sometimes, solace.

Two years ago, Kelly lost her daughter Hillary Twigg to an opioid overdose. She was just 22.

“We both loved sports and crossword puzzles,” Kelly shares. “Hillary was a huge Boston Bruins fan. She knew I was a Raptors fan and we talked sports sometimes … but she was struggling with so much in the last few years before she died.”

According to government statistics, over 20,000 Canadians have died from opioid overdoses in the past 20 years. That’s more people than can fit into the Scotiabank Arena on a Raptors game night. The legacy of those deaths have impacted hundreds of thousands more — family members like Kelly who are left behind.

“Parents should never give up on their kids. They didn’t choose mental illness. They didn’t choose addiction,” she says. “(We need to) pressure governments to put more funds into frontline workers and facilities. Encourage your child to get and take any and all support that is available now.”

“When the Raptors have a game, it gives me something to look forward to even if I am having a bad day.” Maureen Kelly

In dark times, there was light and relief to be found in a familiar source, one that used to unite mother and daughter. Basketball and the Raptors were something Kelly could rely on to lift her spirits — even for a short time. Watching from her own bench in front of the TV, she felt connected to a community, the Raptors family, cheering alongside grandson Ryan, for whom she is now the primary caregiver after Hillary’s death.

“When the Raptors have a game, it gives me something to look forward to even if I am having a bad day,” she says. “It’s exciting, fast moving. There’s something so close about basketball, from where you’re seated … everyone can cheer together.”

With this current incarnation of the Raptors looking capable of going further than any before, the games are coming thick and fast now. The team’s playoff run is giving Kelly a lot of chances to direct things from her living room floor. There’s no one she likes coaching more than Pascal Siakam.

“Last year he kept his cool, he was calm,” she says of the precocious power forward, arguably the NBA’s most improved player. “This year, he proved that when he’s given the opportunity, he is always ready. He gets his own rebound, passes to someone else, and before you know it he’s down the court before everyone else and heading for a dunk.”

Siakam and his teammates look to have their shooting locked in again too. It potentially gives Kelly the chance to see another of her playoff wishes come true — a mention for her hometown from the team’s play-by-play TV announcer Matt Devlin, who heralds every made three-pointer as being dispatched from a distant Raptors outpost.

“A shout out to Orangeville…” says Kelly, “would be cool!”

TORONTO CHINESE BASKETBALL LEAGUE, GTA

“It’s the beauty of basketball. I remember there was an NBA commercial — it said basketball had no borders. You can hear people speaking every language. We don’t care where you’re from. We just want to play the game we love.”

It was 2012 — the year of Linsanity. Amid the mayhem caused by Jeremy Lin, the NBA’s first Asian-American superstar, launching himself into the global mainstream, Chris Li spotted an opportunity. He had moved from China to Toronto two years earlier, right around the time that Lin had in fact made his debut in the league.

But as Lin led an unexpected turnaround for the New York Knicks with a seven-game winning streak all the way into the 2012 playoffs, Li saw more than just a sporting wave. This was social, cultural too. Around him, other Chinese newcomers to Canada were obsessing over Lin, the Harvard graduate turned gritty point guard. So Li rode the wave and started his own basketball league.

“When Linsanity happened, it’s exactly what I dreamed of — a Chinese player who would become pro, play against Kobe Bryant, and even hit a game-winning shot in front of thousands of fans,” Li says. “He’s a huge impact to our community, and he really achieved the dreams we had as players, an Asian player in the NBA.”

Seven years on, the Toronto Chinese Basketball League is thriving. So too are the Toronto Raptors — with Lin along for the ride after a deadline trade brought him north in February.

Last month, Linsanity’s impact on Li came full circle when the Raptors star turned up at one of the GTA school gyms that play host to the TCBL on weekends.

“Jeremy Lin is why we have this league going, to keep our dream alive,” Li tells the Star through a translator, Phillip Qian, on another hectic Sunday.

Li’s dream are now happening right in front of him, on the court.

“传球! (Pass!)” Suddenly, a full-court pass lands in the hands of team Big Smoke’s Terry Shi.

“挡拆。(Pick and roll!)” the Big Smoke team shouts from the bench. A shot goes up as the game clock hits one. It bounces off the rim. Halftime.

This isn’t a quick and casual drop-in. With two uniformed refs, an electronic shot clock and scoreboard, staticians, and a videographer, the league could be mistaken for a pro game in its grandiose production.

Despite the professional set up, Li’s TCBL is rooted in humble beginnings. It has served as a sturdy bridge for Chinese newcomers to Toronto. It has provided a space to play but also to share the love of the game, and to network in this new land.

But not all have travelled from China. Much like Lin and this year’s Raptors, the TCBL boasts an international playing pool.

“The Raptors are inspiring a lot of Chinese fans to come out and play more, and the non-Chinese players also come out and they have something to bond over,” Li continues.

Perched on bleachers, several players crowd over a phone playing last night’s Raptors highlights. On the screen — Kawhi Leonard, better known as ‘小可爱’ in Chinese makes a seamless one-handed catch and dunk to the net. Exclaims pour out.

In China, of NBA superstar names, Kawhi’s is definitely the least intimidating. Despite Leonard’s utter domination this year in the playoffs, his name translates into something much softer — ‘cutie’ pronounced, “xiǎo kě’ài.” Why? Kawhi sounds like the popular Japanese expression ‘Kawaii’ meaning cute, 20-year-old Ben Jiang explains through a translator.

“Kawhi is really good, but my favourite player is Kyle Lowry,” Jiang adds. Jiang was resistant to give an interview, thinking that he’d have to speak English. But after being prodded by his teammates and a player on the opposing team — Jerome Gayle — he decided to speak through a translator.

“People from every nation, every country can come together to play basketball,” Jiang says. “I’ve found a lot of new friends here.”

Gayle, who came to the league along with close friend Rizon Leach-Crooks, has also found connections in the TCBL, despite being Black and unable to speak Mandarin.

“Even on our team, in our huddles, they’re speaking to each other in their language and we might not understand, but they always make us feel involved,” Gayle says. “The love and support of the Raptors brings a whole diversity of people together. We’re cheering on the home team ...and they are too.”

CHRISTIAN BASKETBALL MINISTRY, MISSISSAUGA

“When I lost my brother, I was 11. I didn’t understand why.

“Will you recognize the moment God is choosing to get your attention, or the people God may have placed in your life to make it easier for you to hear his voice?” Julius Quintos tells a group of about 20 young men listening closely to his preaching.

It’s an unexpectedly touching sermon, considering that Quintos is delivering it not from a pulpit, but from the middle of a Mississauga public school gym, dressed in sneakers and a tank top.

But while breaking up a game of basketball with teachings from the Bible might seem odd to some, for the young men who play at Cooksville Creek P.S. each Friday night, religion and basketball are an easy fit.

“I don’t go to church every Sunday. This is the only time I actually get to hear someone speak as a pastor,” says Justin Battad, 29, who has been coming to the Living Hope Baptist Church’s basketball outreach program since it began in 2010. “I feel like this is enough as a Christian, and I can do it while I play basketball.”

The lure of an increasingly popular sport in Toronto, spurred on by the success of the Raptors, is what Quintos was relying on when he launched the initiative as a way to connect youth in the community to the word of the Bible. Every week about 15 to 25 men ages 18 and up gather to play a mostly friendly and restrained game, with about a 15-minute half-time break for the sermon by either Quintos or Living Hope’s Pastor RJ Umandap. Anyone is welcome to play and anyone is welcome to step out during the sermon, but the goal of the program is clear.

“Basketball is a great way to see someone’s character. Competitiveness brings out the good and bad in people,” Quintos, 40, says. “Now that we know each other on a personal level, if you want to work with me then we can try to work things out in terms of working out how to control yourself when it comes to patience or being a sore loser.”

“The Raptors have changed the way people see basketball. The team is so diverse that it tells you this is what Toronto is about, this is what Canada is about.” Julios Quintos

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Quintos was a social worker for 10 years before he started a renovation business and found other ways to keep contributing to the community.

The basketball program was one of them, a natural move since he’s been playing as a little boy growing up in the Philippines. When he moved to Canada at age 13, Quintos continued to play on his high school team at a time when the Raptors didn’t even exist.

When the team was created in 1995, he says the excitement for the game in Toronto shot up.

“The Raptors have changed the way people see basketball,” Quintos says. “The team is so diverse that it tells you this is what Toronto is about, this is what Canada is about.”

By the time Battad and his generation started playing basketball, Raptors mania was in full force.

“I grew up when Vince Carter was the guy,” Battad says, adding his love for the Raptors came even before the love for playing the game. “My car is all decked out in Raptors.”

Like Quintos, Battad is Filipino and says basketball is huge in his culture.

“For hockey you need ice, you need equipment. You need to be privileged and have money to have all that,” Battad says. “In other parts of the world, they don’t have that. (For basketball) you just need a makeshift hoop and a ball.”

That easy access and the wide diversity of basketball fans might be a reason why the sport feels more open and welcoming than others, says Adam Ifill, 29, who started coming to the basketball program five years ago.

“You can just join in and enjoy. No one says, like, ‘oh he’s fresh,’” Ifill says.

The Raptors are only Ifill’s second-favourite team. But the Lakers fan doesn’t feel like a traitor in Toronto.

“I can be a Lakers fan and no one even cares. We’ll talk and hash it out,” Ifill says. “If I was a fan of another team in football? Oh wow. I would never be invited.”

Ifill has been playing basketball since he was a kid, and he joined this group initially just to enjoy the game.

“Now as I get older, I come because of what they preach. For me now that’s more of my journey,” Ifill says.

On the Cooksville court, tensions are starting to flare up after a player falls down and his opponents challenge a foul call.

“Don’t touch me!” someone calls out.

“Take it easy guys, play an honest game,” Quintos says, ordering whoever made the call to shoot for it.

“What you’re seeing is the testosterone at play,” he says, adding he has had to shut down the entire evening only a handful of times in nine years. “The fact that they respect what we do here, that’s what keeps them in check.”

ONYX BARBERS, TORONTO

“The Raptors are going to the finals for sure. I know it.”

Kirk Tulloch is finishing up with a client on a busy Tuesday afternoon at Onyx Barbers, where you get the sense most times are hectic. The shop’s co-owner brushes hair off his arms and cleans up his station.

“We need to win, just once, for this city,” says Tulloch, a day-one Raps fan.

Inside the bustling shop, all the chairs are full and another 15-20 people are waiting in line. Razors buzz. A variety of sports play out across 17 wide screens. And the barbershop banter never ends. Today’s hot topic: the Toronto Raptors’ loss the night before in Game 2 of the NBA Eastern Conference semifinals to the Philadelphia 76ers.

On the other side of Tulloch’s barber station, his business partner Lowell Stephens has a customer who is a little more reserved about the team’s prospects. “Toronto is cursed,” Abel Lulseged says. “We’ve seen so much disappointment. I think they can make the finals, but I have some questions. The bench has to step up.”

Onyx Barbers, which reopened at its new Adelaide St. E. location in downtown Toronto two months ago, is the brainchild of Tulloch, 43 and Stephens, 41. They grew up together in Scarborough and share a passion for basketball and connecting people from all walks of life. Since it first opened in 2002 at its original Victoria St. location just a few blocks north, Onyx has become the choice spot for people from all over the GTA to come for a haircut or a line up.

“For the Black community, the barbershop was a constant piece of real estate that was frequented by all,” Stephens says. “Without the confines of a holy setting like the church, the barbershop allowed for unfiltered exchange of information.”

“It’s not just about getting your haircut here, it’s about being around people, having good conversation,” Tulloch says.

“Sometimes it’s like a sports bar in here,” Stephens adds.

Meg Chambers, an Onyx regular, is next up in Tulloch’s chair. She adjusts her seat and settles in.

“I love how this space is easy and casual,” she says. “It’s all about the camaraderie.”

Her gaze lands on a wide screen by the waiting area. The Raptors-Philly game from the night before is on replay. For Chambers, the Raptors made her feel like she was part of the city when she moved here over 10 years ago from Jamaica.

“Everyone loves the Raptors. My parents who are 60-something love the Raptors and so do my nephews that are 8 and 12,” she says, adding that even in the rain her family makes the trek to the area outside of the Scotiabank Arena, dubbed Jurassic Park, to cheer on the team.

Not only is the team something that binds her entire family, it’s that water-cooler topic she can speak to her co-workers about.

“It makes everything — family, friends, work life so much more entertaining.”

Throughout the barbershop, love for the sport radiates. A basketball rests above the mirrors of each barber station. An NBA All-Star poster from 2016 — the first time the event was held in Toronto — hangs on the wall. A video of a Detroit Pistons and Chicago Bulls game from the 1990s — an era when Bulls superstar Michael Jordan was at the sport’s forefront — plays on repeat.

“I went to the first Raptors game,” Stephens says.

“That’s when I was born, bro,” Lulseged responds.

“Are you serious? ’95? Oh my God,” Stephens says laughing uncontrollably.

He composes himself before adding, “Those were the best years, the Raptors at the SkyDome. I even went to the first draft, with (Damon) Stoudamire.”

Over the years, former and current Raptors stars like Jonas Valanciunas and Danny Green have dropped by Onyx for a cut. But Tulloch makes it clear — celebrity or not, there’s no special treatment. It is part of the shop’s larger mission to, much like basketball, be accessible and open to everyone, regardless of social status, race, age or gender.

“To play basketball, all you need is a floor,” Stephens says. “I used to play ball on our closet door. Used to take metal hangers squish them together with toilet paper and tape and we’d play.”

MLSE LAUNCHPAD, TORONTO

“I always tell my friends, it’s better to be in this space than out there. It’s a safe space, and a place you always feel welcome.”

Two years ago, Layla Berih found a space to grow, a place she would even call home. Now she’s intent on making sure others grow with her.

The 17-year-old is a coach at the MLSE Launchpad on Jarvis St. The space is primarily a sports facility but in truth offers local youth so much more than just athletic outlets. While it was basketball that initially drew Berih to the Launchpad in 2017, like so many others, it is the school, work and life supports that kept bringing her back.

The Launchpad is centred at the junction of Moss Park, Regent Park and Cabbagetown. In recent times, community spaces have been particularly in focus in the area. Last October, in the wake of the tragic murder of 15-year-old Mackai Bishop Jackson, Regent Park families pointed to community and afterschool programs that had been cancelled in the area as exacerbating problems in an area that was trying to tackle gun violence.

Maple Leaf Sports and Entertainment, owners of the Toronto Raptors, the Maple Leafs, Toronto FC and more, have invested tens of millions of dollars in sports spaces around the city since 2009, linking up with Toronto Community Housing on many projects. The Launchpad is by far the most ambitious — and impactful.

“When MLSE Launchpad opened, there were only three girls playing [basketball],” Berih says. “But now everyone comes, from all parts of the city. From Scarborough too. Everywhere. It’s really like a family.”

On this evening Berih is back on the court, but she’s not playing. Instead, the Grade 11 student is coaching a group of young girls aged 11-14 in a three-on-three game. She goes through shooting form, and the kids line up hoping to sink a bucket.

She’s close to celebrating her one-year anniversary in the coaching role...but never imagined that she’d get the job in the first place.

“I felt like I had no qualifications, I didn’t even have a resume,” Berih says. “But the staff, coaches here pushed me to apply. I’m so happy I got it. And in this gym that has everything.”

The space, with a state-of-the-art basketball court, rock-climbing wall, community kitchen and floor hockey field is a space savoured by hundreds of youth, aged 6 to 29. Built below a community housing building, the centre is free for those in the area — providing before and after-school programming while parents are at work. Participants learn how to shoot hoops but also life — and leadership — skills.

Sitting with a few of the younger girls, Berih asks them which program they like the most.

“Basketball is one of my favourite programs here,” 12-year-old Shireen Musse says, smiling shyly at two others. “That’s where I met my friends.”

Musse lives three buildings over from the MLSE Launchpad. She says she enjoys the opportunity to improve her basketball skills. Connections and friendships blossom too. Selam Haile and Champion-Ella Haynes-Oyelowo, both 13, concur. And there are other perks — like free tickets to Raptors games.

“It was fun going with my friends to the game. Before that, my mom used to scream ‘Go Raptors! Do this,’ at the TV. It was so loud I’d tell her to be quiet,” Musse laughs. “But wasn’t until my first game — I even saw the Drake lounge — that I started coaching too with my friends. Now, my mom and I are both screaming at the TV, and I use my coaching skills on the court too.”

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For Berih, becoming a coach was like starting another chapter in her life, as a role model to the next generation. “I had my own role model when I first came here,” she says. “She’s the one who pushed me to apply. She gave me a way in, and now I feel inspired to do the same.”

The Launchpad’s state-of-the-art basketball court features a giant Raptors logo. But it played host to the real life Raptors too, when the team visited two weeks ago. In the team’s diverse roster of stars of African, Asian and European descent, Launchpad youngsters can recognize themselves, according to Berih.

“The Raptors are inclusive because everyone, despite where they’re brought up or who they are, can come together to speak the same language,” she says. “When the game is on, everything else seems to fall to the side, no matter what religion, race, gender — whatever. Raptors and basketball is for everyone, and that’s why I love it.”

Do you have your own Raptors or basketball diaries you’d like to share? Email us at social@torstar.com with your story.

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