PHILADELPHIA

THE CRACK RUNS smack through the center of the Cherashore Playground basketball court, a nasty-looking gash that splits the unforgiving concrete like a fault line.

And when Ja'Quan Newton tripped right where the line snakes across the macadam, meeting the pavement with a splat and a slide, someone in the crowd summed up the that's-gotta-hurt crowd reaction succinctly.

"Damn!" he shouted.

Sitting in the stands, Joe Newton physically recoiled.

Years ago, Joe brought his son here, to the Chosen League played on a court at 10th and Olney in Philadelphia. An accomplished player himself -- he was Division II national player of the year out of the University of Central Oklahoma -- Joe knew from personal experience that tough players, especially point guards like him and his son, weren't developed on the sterile confines of high school gyms or even rec centers. They were cultivated on the outdoor courts, like the Southwest Philly ones Joe once called home.

But that was before Ja'Quan signed with the University of Miami, before so much was on the line.

"Did you see him fall?" Joe Newton said an hour later. "I was like, 'Oh no. Man, he's going to Miami. That can't happen.'"

Sonny Hill hears such talk and shakes his head. He has heard it before. He didn't buy it then; he doesn't buy it now.

For as long as he can remember, the Philadelphia playgrounds teemed with good games and the city's best players.

As a kid, he ran around those courts himself, learning the art of shooting from Philly legend and 12-year NBA vet Guy Rodgers during Around the World games; the love of competition from Rodgers and Temple star Hal Lear, who would jump at the chance to challenge a guy who purportedly dropped 50 points in a pickup game in Camden or Chester; and the grace and beauty of pure talent from his Baptist Church League and high school foe, Wilt Chamberlain.

Hill is credited with starting the first professional summer league in this country, the Charles Baker Memorial League in 1960, answering a call from area pros who wanted to keep their games sharp in the offseason.

Hill turned his own dream into the Sonny Hill Community Involvement League, which housed a college and high school division, then watched his vision spread across the city to other playgrounds, such as 16th and Susquehanna, where the North Central Philadelphia Basketball League took root.

But today even the always optimistic Hill can't help but be a little disillusioned by what he sees in his own city and across the country -- empty playgrounds and "sissy" star players who fear the macadam.

He faults the players, but more he blames the almighty dollar. It was a problem then, when the Baker League fell apart in large part because Bulls forward Gene Banks tore his Achilles and violated his contract by playing there. With today's salaries, it is an even bigger obstacle now.

"Too much money," Hill said. "When I see the game, I don't see the purity of the game, the love of the game, the dedication to the game."

There is, as Ja'Quan Newton learned, so much to lose. Potential scholarships or pocketed salaries outweigh whatever joy an outside game might offer.

Of course, players earned scholarships and salaries back in the day, too.

Yet they played -- all of them. The games moved from Hill's 25th and Dauphin courts outside of the Moylan Rec Center to 16th and Susquehanna, but that didn't stop the city's best from grabbing a game. A who's who put on a show for the hundreds, sometimes nearly 1,000 people who came to watch -- Hank Gathers and Bo Kimble, Doug Overton and Lionel Simmons, Maureece Rice and Cuttino Mobley, Rasheed Wallace and Kyle Lowry.

And now? Hill's high school league is indoors, at Audenried High School. College guys meet at the Hank Gathers Rec Center or McGonigle Hall. The park at 16th and Susquehanna is an overgrown, barren space, the league unable to survive the 2004 passing of organizer Omjasisa Kentu.

Ask city college coaches or former players where to find a good outside game and the answer is a collective shrug. Count Lowry among them.

"I don't even know where you can play outside anymore," Lowry said.

The Raptors guard said he never plays in the playgrounds anymore -- "No, no," he said with a laugh. "That's not what I need to be doing anymore, not as a professional."

The only legit outside run is Rahim Thompson's Chosen League, for high schoolers, and that's only because Thompson practically willed it into existence. A regular spectator at 16th and Susquehanna, Thompson started his league 12 years ago with money out of his own pocket.

On Thursdays, he would cash his check from his job at the parking authority, pay the officials and rent 40 chairs to offer more seating than the half-sawed-off bleacher he had. Even after two robberies forced him out of his home, he kept the league going, packing the scorebook, game clock and his clothes into a 76ers bag and flopping at one friend's house or another until he could take time to find a new home.

Through connections via a part-time job at Slam magazine, he slowly drummed up sponsors, including sports clothing company Mitchell & Ness. Today, with Nike's full backing, he has brand-new backboards, more bleachers and nice uniforms. His all-star players all wear brand-new KDs.

The only thing missing? Most of the city's best players. Eighty-one Division I players have come through the Chosen League, but even as Thompson adjusts his schedule -- he stops games during the open recruiting window in July -- it's getting harder and harder to attract the top names.

"You got these so-called coaches and advisers who don't even have a background in basketball telling kids where to play and not to play," Thompson said. "How can some guy from down the corner tell your kid he shouldn't play outside?

"I get it. AAU is great for exposure, but you get toughness outside. You got the crowd on top of you screaming; you hit the ground hard as crap. So you get inside when there's 2,000 people and it's all air conditioned, and someone starts screaming at you, it's like, are you serious? I just had dudes under the basket talking about my mama."

That's what led Ja'Quan to the Cherashore Playground. He spent three years in the Chosen League and believed it helped turn him into a Philly guard -- a brand of player known for his fearlessness as much as his ability.

Now prepping for Miami, he had to beg his father to let him play in the Chosen Game -- "How do you say no to a kid who just wants to play?" Joe said. But after his fall, Ja'Quan suddenly understood his father's reluctance. "I grew up here, but it's a lot tougher on your body," Ja'Quan said. "When I fell down, man, that hurt. I don't need to be doing that. I don't really think I should be out here anymore."

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