Hoop Dreams And The Indy 500

I grew up on a hill in Wisconsin located in the fine city of Rothschild. It was a nice place to grow up, and I often take a drive past the old house a couple of times of year, quietly reliving my moments as a whole, allowing only a few blocks time to take it in.

Like many children we had a basketball hoop hanging on the garage.

When I do drive by, the first thing I always check this out is this childhood fixture. It most likely isn’t the same board my father struggled with twenty some years ago, but the last time I checked, it still remained as it had for decades.

One would expect this story to continue with the follies of father and son, or the battling of brothers in the heated spirit of sibling competition.  It certainly could, as there are many fond recollections of that nature to go around as well. Yet, to this day, that basketball hoop will forever remind me of one thing.

My neighbor-Lyle Kurtenbach.

Since the time we moved to Rothschild we had lived across the street from the Kurtenbachs. Lyle, his wife Karen and daughter Dawn, were permanent fixtures as you looked out the large bay window on the front of our own proud homestead.

Lyle, who kept a remarkably well kept home, always made a point to wave, or stop on over and talk to us kids on the weekends for a minute or two, as he faithfully attended to whatever daily chores were on his docket. Lyle was a lawn guy, and could often be found outside on a regular basis, attending to this and that as it needed attending to.

My brother and I would often be outside as well, standing in the street, heaving our basketball great distances in an effort to make the worlds longest, and most incredible shot possible. We would occasionally hit one here and there, and Lyle would sometimes walk on over to join in the game. Although nothing was ever said, I think he enjoyed chucking that basketball up there just as much as we did.

I always thought that Lyle was a pretty cool cat. He was into car racing, and as a young kid fascinated with everything that went zoom, he pretty much topped the chart of the "That guy is pretty awesome" category.

I slowly grew up with the Kurtenbachs, as we mostly watched each other in unison while occasionally stopping to converse for a moment or two.

It was nothing more than life in motion.

In 1987, I was fifteen years old. It was a May afternoon mid-week when Lyle once again took a moment to try his hand at an ultra amazing shot to the netted rim on the garage.

We chatted about our perspective weekends; our family was to head to Illinois for a weekend gathering, while Lyle and his would head out on the yearly trek to watch the Indianapolis 500.

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