Shirts and Skins by Mark Stone

April 2024. When I was in high school, Byrd Stadium on the University of Maryland campus was the gathering point for basketball gym rats like me. Back then the big arc at the top of the stadium behind the bleachers was marked off into a dozen or more basketball courts. On a warm summer night players from all over the area would gather for pickup games of half court 3 on 3 or full court 4 on 4. Open to the public, and just 3 miles from majority black District of Columbia, the courts drew a diverse crowd.

The rules were simple. Whether you showed up as a group of friends, or an individual, you picked a court to wait, and queued up. When the team on court lost (first to 11, win by 2), the winning team held the court and next in line took the losers' place. Often this split up those waiting, with calls of "need one" or "need two" to fill out a team. Stamina assured some fairness; sooner or later even the best teams would tire and fall to an eager, rested contender. Since you weren't assured you'd be playing with people you knew, visually separating teams on the court was important. One team would keep their shirts on ("shirts"); the other would remove their shirts ("skins"). New teams took on the identifier of whatever team they replaced.

Now, decades later, I'm mindful of how many lessons in diversity I learned on those courts. First, diversity is uncomfortable. You end up with players whose styles and strengths you don't know, and who may not readily compliment your own. Second, communication is key, and communication often means advocacy. When forming teams you have to speak up about what you offer ("mean crossover dribble", "left-handed hook", "spot on no look pass"), and on the court you need to call out what you see ("pick left", "open", "who's man is that"). Despite the rampant trash-talking, you need to be humble; don't brag about your abilities, and don't promise what you can't deliver. Which leads to the other key point: trust matters, even when you're grappling with your own discomfort. Assume best intentions on the part of your teammates (and opponents). Don't be a "ball hog". You'll only reach high performance if the team collaborates effectively.

Maybe most important, though, is this: differences are more arbitrary and less meaningful than we think. An "us versus them" attitude is easy to assume, especially in sports. Yet when you routinely end up on teams that are randomly composed, you have no choice but to look past otherness and look for empathy and comradeship, both on your own team and in the opposition, who may be your future teammates. The differences that divide us matter less than the common purposes that unite us.

Acknowledge and embrace discomfort. Advocate. Communicate. Trust. Be humble. Be collaborative and empathetic, even in the face of differences. Focus on common purpose. Think carefully about whether the differences to which you ascribe meaning actually embody more than shirts vs. skins.

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