Basketball brings happiness. It gives them good feelings. They can forget about reality. They get a sparkle in their eye, a smile on their face. The court becomes their land. Their spirit is tied to the court. But there are threats all around ready to undercut. Bad medicine. And the wind. There is always the wind.

CHINLE, Ariz. — It was four hours before tip-off. The wind whipped sharply and briskly from the north and dust swirled in every direction. Temperatures dropped into the 30s. Snow fell by the evening.

Hundreds of American Indians were bundled in bright colored wool jackets and blankets — blue and red, yellow and green — outside the Wildcat Den's ticket booth on the campus of Chinle High School.

The windows didn't open for another three hours.

There wasn't much chatter. No loud horns, banter or school fight songs. There was no complaining either, and no tailgating. Just standing and waiting. Waiting and standing. It's part of the ritual, like eagle feathers for protection in player lockers or blending corn pollen into water for harmony.

This was Rez Ball on game day, and patience, loyalty and love for the game prevailed. 

Eight high school basketball teams — four boys and four girls — faced off in a non-elimination Arizona Interscholastic Association sectional finals Feb. 8-9, and fans arrived from across the Navajo Reservation, the largest Indian reservation in the United States at more than 24,000 square miles, running through northeastern Arizona and parts of New Mexico and Utah.

They weren't early just to get a seat. They wanted good seats.

"I heard the lines get to be about a mile long," said 63-year-old Vic Welker, a longtime rodeo fan making his first trip to the Den from White Mountain, Ariz. He's not even a huge basketball backer, but wanted to show his support for Alchesay (Whiteriver), which boasted a boys and girls team in the Final sectional 4.

"It's about a 4.5-hour drive. I left before 7."

That was two hours after Matthias Lupe arrived. He left Whiteriver at 1 a.m. He wanted to be the first in line.

"They call me the No. 1 fan of Alchesay," said Lupe, a 2004 graduate of the school. "I like to be at the bottom, right on the court so I can scream my head off. … Once you get in there, it's a big rush. You can't really explain it. Your friends and family and community is all in there. It's an unexplained feeling."

American Indians have tried to explain their love of the game for decades, all the way back to James Naismith and the 1890s. 

A combination of its speed and teamwork in an organized setting, combined with the ability to practice alone endlessly at little to no cost makes it a natural sport for kids who reside in two of the most impoverished counties in America: Apache and Navajo.

Makeshift hoops made from bicycle rims and milk crates, nailed to trees and sides of homes and other dwellings, are everywhere on the vast and open landscape. So is a keen sense of history and pride, community and hope.

Basketball, especially the high school brand, is a great escape.

"For two or four hours, you're able to forget everything and just cheer and holler," Chinle athletic director and basketball coach Steve Troglia said. "Everybody in the (Navajo) Nation comes out to watch it and experience it. They want to be a part of it."

Said Window Rock (Fort Defiance) four-year senior point guard Kyler Ashley: "To play in front of a big crowd just feels like freedom. Your fans are always following you. They travel from hours away just to watch you play. They have a lot of heart. They stand in line early in the morning. They even camp out. How can you not like that? We play for our community."

Winslow girls sophomore guard Shandiin Armao said basketball is just part of the Navajo culture. Their parents and grandparents played.

"Everyone plays basketball on the reservation," she said. "Even if you're not on a team. Kids will say, ‘Hey, you want to go shoot around after school?'"

Arizona Republic staff writer Richard Obert has covered prep basketball on the reservation for almost 15 years. Its popularity and passion, combined with the culture, inspired him to write a yet-to-be-published book, entitled "Rez Ball."

"People just go nuts for it," he said. "They can't get enough of it. The kids are treated like rock stars. You'll see little kids line up before games and after games trying to get these guys' autographs.

"They feel like the Kobe Bryants and Lebron James' of the world when they're on the reservation."

Troglia simply put it this way: 

"There's no place like Chinle or reservation basketball," he said. "This is the Mecca of basketball."

He didn't mean the Mecca of the Four Corners region, or the state of Arizona. He meant anywhere.

He considered the heart of New York City, the tough streets of Detroit and the rural regions of Indiana. He considered that the Wildcat Den holds 7,000 in a town of 5,200 residents and that over the next two days, without either Chinle team participating, more than 12,000 attended the sectional.

Chinle and arch-rival Window Rock, a 90-minute drive away, always draw standing-room crowds of 7,500. The rest of the Rez schools aren't far behind.

To accommodate high demands, Monument Valley (Kayenta) (5,000), Ganado (5,500), Tuba City (4,500), Winslow (3,500) and Alchesay (3,000) all fill their large venues.

Window Rock is moving from its famed Thunderdome that seats 1,800 to a new facility that will hold between 8,000 and 10,000. 

"If they build it, the Nation will come," Troglia said.

They also travel. Remarkably so.

Every AIA basketball attendance record near and around Phoenix — a five-hour drive from the reservation — is tied to a Navajo Nation participant. Multiple games have drawn more than 16,000 when two Rez teams are involved for the state title — boys or girls.

"It's a lot like Mardi Gras," said Charles Gover, a former Tuba City boys coach, the last one to lead a Rez boys team to a state title in 2001. "Families plan vacations around the state tournament."

That's music to the ears of AIA Director of Business Media Brian Bolitho.

"The reservation schools have a great following," he said. "To see the crowds that follow their teams at NAU (Northern Arizona University), Tim's Toyota Center and when any team reaches Jobing.com Arena is something to see."

That is why the state's prime time game — the last of the eight on Saturday at Jobing.com Arena (home of the Phoenix Coyotes) — is the Division III girls championship, a game dominated by Rez teams.

See the MaxPreps AIA girls basketball playoff brackets

In most states, that's a natural spot for a large-division boys game.

This season is no exception, as the final four Division III girls teams are Winslow versus Holbrook and Window Rock against Valley (Sanders).

Last season, more than 10,000 watched Page, another reservation team, defeat Winslow in the finals. Division III is the second-smallest division in the state, but the Navajo Nation has proved for decades that it packs a tremendous percentage of fans.

And they make a tremendous amount of noise.

Said Troglia: "I've been in timeouts during a Rez Ball game that it's so loud I can't even think, let alone talk."

Which is in sharp contrast to a culture known for its tranquil and quiet ways.

"Everything is very, very slow on the reservation, but everything is very, very fast on the court," Obert said. "And when they get going it's a totally different type of basketball. You won't see anything else like it in the country. The fans, the passion, the pace. It's like nowhere else."


Video and editing by Scott Hargrove



Moved to words

Basketball creates promise and somewhere among the countless children there is the next Great Red Hope, kids playing on baskets made from milk crates, bicycle rims, rebar, rims purposely made so small the ball barely fits through. It is played in the snow, in the rain, in blowing dust so thick you can't see the basket.

It is played to pass the lonely hours, after the sheep have been herded and slaughtered, after the livestock has been fed, after the uranium-laced water has been hauled in from a well.

Obert has been writing about high school sports for the Arizona Republic for almost three decades now. He writes with a different flair than most sports writers, digging deeper than numbers and recruiting rankings.

Personalities and the human condition appeal more to him than box scores. That's why the connection between basketball and the Navajo Nation resonated so deeply with him.

In 1999, he took a trip to White River to do a story on Hall of Famer Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, who was doing a community project with Alchesay and eventually became an assistant coach for a season with the Falcons.

"This whole community embraced this giant," Obert said. "All these little guys under 6-foot being coached by this giant who had to duck under the hallways was amazing to see. He was like a God."

Though Abdul-Jabbar was the obvious hook and subject, Obert was drawn to the fervent fan base and love affair the locals had for the game.

"It just turned me on to watch the people pack the gyms," he said. "I felt an adrenaline rush for a story I had never experienced before."

He continued to do stories about Rez Ball over the years, but in 2008 he committed himself to write a book, and between his regular 60-hour week writing about preps throughout the state — centered largely on the Phoenix-area teams where he lives — he would regularly make a five-hour drive to Navajo and Apache counties.

"I spent a season around Holbrook and Winslow and that brought me up to Chinle and Window Rock," Obert said. "I got to spend a lot of time around some really good people."

He gained a great appreciation for the Navajo traditions, especially their most fundamental premise that Mother Earth and staying planted and rooted on reservation ground is the most sacred thing in life. Basketball, however, is a close second.

Battling those beliefs and ancestry, however, is the modern world.

"It's definitely a pull," Obert said. "Some of the elders try to battle the kids with their iPhones and satellite dishes. They want to teach them still where they came from. It's been like a forgotten land for people."

Not for Quincy Natay, the Assistant Superintendent for Business at Chinle Unified School District, who remembered fondly his upbringing and has given back abundantly.



Pride, escape and Caesars Palace

From Chinle to Holbrook to Winslow to Monument Valley to Tuba City to Ganado and anywhere else on or bordering the Navajo reservation, many of the boys and girls basketball players are oblivious to the mines, the poverty, the alcoholism, the witchcraft, the air they breathe. It’s basketball day and night and when they’re sleeping. It’s finding a weekend tournament, a gym, a makeshift basket.

Everything comes together inside a gymnasium. It’s a reunion for families, clans. It’s for everybody.

Natay graduated from Chinle in 1983 and played for the Wildcats in Troglia's first season as coach.

Chinle played in the community center that still sits on campus and seated 1,500. Considerably smaller and antiquated — described as a tiny, loud tin shed with low ceilings and wood bleachers — Rez Ball was in full force even then.

Scalpers sold tickets for 10 times more than their worth.

"They literally camped out the night before to get tickets," Natay said. "We played in front of 1,500 every night and it was loud."

The fire marshal often asked Troglia to tell the overflow crowd to leave.

"OK, let's go kick them out," Troglia would tell the fire marshal. "You want a riot on your hands?"

Troglia, a character to be sure, had a large impact on Natay.

"He instilled values in me and a drive to set goals and make things happen," Natay said.

The first thing Natay made happen was to earn a bachelor's degree at Northern Arizona in business administration. Right after graduation, he could have headed south, but despite 60 percent unemployment on the reservation, he headed home and landed a job at the Chinle Unified School District.

Twenty-two years later, he's still there and his presence is felt everywhere. 

"Right place, right opportunity," he said.

Said Troglia: "He's a genius with money. He's a stickler for doing the job right. He built this place."

"This place" being the Wildcat Den, the reservation's crowning man-made jewel.

Natay helped first finance the schools — "education is always first," he said — but then zeroed in on sports facilities.

"Why can't reservation kids have equal or better facilities?" he said. "My drive was to make sure our kids have the best equipment possible."

Through what Natay called "sound fiscal management over years" and the Federal Impact Aid Program, Chinle built the $24 million Wildcat Den along with a $7-million aquatics and fitness center in 2007.

"We've been told it's the best facility in Arizona and maybe even the west region," Natay said.

No detail – both structurally and culturally – was ignored. The outside walls match the beautiful color schemes of Chinle's true natural jewel, Canyon de Chelly National Monument, a unit of the National Park Service that has been called an intimate Grand Canyon.

Inside, the stadium seating is surrounded by colored panels of the four cardinal directions, yellow (west), white (east), black (north) and blue (south), and Spider Rock is painted at midcourt inside a setting sun, a tribute to the monument's most notable feature.

The locker rooms are posh with carpeting and Wildcat logos everywhere. Each locker stall features a padded chair and each locker is paneled with mahogany.

"It's state of the art, man," Troglia said. "It's just gorgeous and hard to describe unless you've seen it."

What makes the Wildcat Den even more stunning aesthetically is its stark contrast to the scenery heading into Chinle and down its dusty, unlined four-lane road.

There's no movie theater in Chinle. No miniature golf, skate parks or bike lanes. There's a grocery store, three gas stations, a diner, four fast-food establishments, two laundromats and a Wells Fargo Bank branch. There's seven schools and at least that many churches.

The 16-square mile census-designated place claims about 6,000 residents and was the site of the 1864 peace conference between Kit Carson and the Navajos that ended the war between the tribe and the United States of America.

Driving into town on U.S. Highway 191 isn't very scenic. Nor is it inviting when one parks next to the Wildcat Den.

"It's like you're walking in skid row then going into Caesars Palace," Obert said. "You'll see stray dogs wandering through the parking lot. Driving here, you'll see shacks and gutted-out houses. Cars are up on blocks. You just see a lot of poverty and you feel for it."

In that regard, the Wildcat Den, like basketball itself, is a place of great pride and escape, Natay said

"When you drive into Chinle and see this facility, you don't know what's in here until you walk in," he said. "When you walk in, you're in awe because this isn't Chinle. This is something you'd see if you walked in at the US Airways Center (home of the Phoenix Suns).

"It's a chance for everyone to escape what's really going on in the reservation. You forget about poverty. You forget about the social ills and everyone is here to have a good time."

And for two days, close to 12,000 fans (6,000 each day) did. Even in defeat.

With snow falling outdoors, locals from every age group were entertained, well-fed and able to express themselves.

The younger crowd walked the concourse orderly, an American Graffiti cruising display on foot, checking out kids from other parts of the reservation. In the stands, the cheers were spontaneous and loud, and the boos boisterous and on-point on bad calls or when teams stalled. There's no shot clock in Arizona and the Rez fans like their game up-tempo.

"It's just a good social venue for everyone to escape and forget about everything," Natay said. "You feel like you're somewhere else.

"Then you walk out and you're out on the Rez again."




Window Rock and The Messiah

Although no full Navajo has ever made it to the NBA, they dare to dream to be the first. And throughout this rocky, lonely land, people manage to find a game to forget their own lost journey.

"High school basketball is the greatest entertainment," says Navajo Genevieve Ashley, who graduated from high school in 1980 and married a Hopi. "It's our joy. We yell at the team. That's how we get out our frustrations. When I was 30, I'd race with a 60-year-old woman to get a seat closest to the floor. She'd beat me. Rez ball. Kids live for that."
Kyler Ashley did it all backwards.

Most aspiring basketball players grow up in a small town and strive to play with the big city kids. This Window Rock senior was born in Phoenix, but couldn't wait to play Rez Ball.

"My whole family was from Window Rock," he said of the town that sits on the Arizona-New Mexico border. "I grew up with a ball in my hand. I couldn't wait to play in front of a big old crowd."

He's been able to do that for four straight years and has developed a cult following.

The 5-7 point guard is considered one of the top players in the state, despite his lack of height or muscles. He led the Scouts to three straight section victories over vastly taller and stronger teams, including 78-46 over Snowflake when Ashley scored a game-high 21 points to go along with nine assists in the final sectional game at the Wildcat Den.

"I honestly think he's one of the top five players in the state," Troglia said. "He controls absolutely everything."

Just like his grandfather did. And his father. Both were basketball stars at Window Rock, and both, like Ashley, received the rock star treatment.

"It helped me be prepared for what it would be like," Ashley said. "But you get used to it. I try not to let them down."

He didn't after the finale against Snowflake while signing dozens of autographs.

The Navajo Nation can't get enough, as coach Brad Thorsted literally had to pull him from the masses 20 minutes after the final horn.

"It's good to have fans like this," he said. "How can I complain? I think we all love it."

Ashley is the smallest player on a team that features no one taller than 6-1 Ian Bahe, a superb senior leaper who averaged better than 10 points per game.

Though extremely balanced, Ashley and Bahe led the Scouts to a sterling 27-3 record. They were trying to be the first Rez boys team to win a state title since Tuba City in 2001.

But after their win over Snowflake, the team's 23rd straight, the Scouts were upset by Show Low 49-47, a team they defeated nine days earlier 63-57.

Even though he was raised for six years in Albuquerque, N.M., Bahe moved to the reservation and quickly learned the rules of Rez Ball.

"I learned it's not a sport, that it's a religion," he said. "And that Kyler is the Messiah. … Some people might see it as pressure, we all live up to the moment and try to embrace it. We don't shy away from anything."

They certainly didn't on the court at Chinle.

Though beaten on the boards, the Scouts, like most Rez teams, beat their bigger opponents to the punch. It's a gap reservation squads are used to closing with fast breaks, ball-handling and shooting.

One of the best on the Rez is 6-foot Chinle junior Kevin Yazzie, who averaged 23 points per game. His older sister played at Western Texas College in Snyder and playing collegiately is one of his biggest goals. With a 3.5 grade point average and some game, he has a good shot, Troglia said. He helped the Wildcats to a superb 19-6 season that ended with a bitter 74-73 overtime loss to Fountain Hills in the second round of the state tournament.

Chinle ended on a three-game losing streak that was started by another overtime loss, 80-79 to arch-rival Window Rock.

"I think some kids at school don't think outside of the reservation," Yazzie said. "For me, that's a mistake. I want to make a name for myself and get an education. I love playing in high school and in front of all these people who come out and watch, but I want more."

He played with his cousin Kyler Ashley, Bahe and several Window Rock players during a Navajo Invitational Tournament last summer in Phoenix, and the combined team made it to the finals, a first for an Arizona team, according to Yazzie.

With more than 1,000 teams from throughout the country, that was a major accomplishment. They lost to a team from Oklahoma with a front line of 6-7, 6-5 and 6-5. Bahe was the tallest player for the Rez Ball team.

"All we did was run," he said.

The crowds were sparse during the summer compared to the high school season. Bahe said playing in front of such big crowds at such a young age and dealing with all the adoration has been a challenge.

"When I walk out (on to the court), in front of a big crowd, I try not to look all around," said Bahe, who hopes to land at Stanford. "I try to stay centered. It's humbling to know that all these people came out to watch what we do best."




Girls thrive on the Rez

They greet the sun, spread corn pollen, and pray for strength and abundance and the courage to get through another day. At night, the stars shine so bright and appear so close, they feel they can reach out and grab a bunch and toss them back at the blackness and their dreams will come true.

They dream about winning basketball championships.

One of the best aspects of Rez Ball is that it's not sexist. Not even close.

The girls draw just as many fans as the boys, and there has surely been a lot more success. At the Division III level, there is not such a disparity in height, so the native girls flourish on their skills and shooting.

"Navajos are known to be real good sharpshooters," Winslow star sophomore Shandiin Armao said. "Either you're strong underneath or you have a perfect shot. It's really cool."

It was cool for 33 years to have Don Petranovich as head coach. He won eight state titles for Winslow and is the state's winningest coach with a 778-159 record.

He retired two years ago after starting the program in 1975. A football, baseball and assistant boys basketball coach, he was known for his hard-nosed style and he didn't take it easy on the girls, something they responded to.

"The girls play real hard," Petranovich said. "And now they can really dribble and shoot and play. You better be ready."

Winslow senor guard Mattea Begaii said there's a distinct reason the girls game is so popular. "We play more as a team," she said. "The boys like to go one-on-one."

It wasn't an easy sell at first, and certainly the girls didn't draw like the boys.

"But once Holbrook and Winslow got better and better, the crowds got bigger and bigger," Petranovich said. "I think it's great that we brought the girls out of the shadows and now they are definitely part of the show."

They were a huge part when Winslow won a state title in 1990 on a last-second shot against Snowflake before 16,200 fans in Phoenix. That was a state record for attendance, Petranovich said.

"I remember our girl was holding the ball for one shot and she waited and waited and waited," Petranovich said. "I told her that she better go but the crowd was so loud she couldn't hear me. She finally went and made it right at the buzzer. That was a great experience."

It's all been great for Begaii. She started dribbling a basketball when she was 4 years old and experienced all the best of Rez Ball. She'd love to finish it with another state title.

"I've loved the crowd yelling and screaming," she said. "It's what we all grew up experiencing. A lot of people get nervous and sure it brings some butterflies, but as soon as the ball goes up, they all go away."

Armao's dad felt some butterflies the first time he shot baskets in Winslow.

A non-native originally from Philadelphia, he worked with Navajos on the reservation to help become doctors. According to Armao, he was asked by a co-worker after work to go shoot baskets.

"Because that's what you do when you're in Winslow," she said. "He met my mom on a basketball court in town somewhere that day and that's all it took."

Now Armao is just looking for two more wins at Jobing.com Arena this weekend to erase last year's bitter state title defeat to Page.

"Our coach (Jerron Jordan) always says, ‘We don't get mad, we get even,'" Armao said. "That's what we plan to do."