The year was 1999. School had just finished and without delay the summer fever had caught on to us. Close the books and tidy up the bags because the moment had arrived. Yes, it was time once again for the Saudia City Basketball League. As kids growing up in Jeddah, the league was the only thing we would expect for the whole year. The SCBL had it all: basketball, friends, family, good food, pressure, and excitement. The big circus was in town.

Days before the school year ended, my dad would gather a lot of of his friends and hold meetings on how the league would go about. They talked night after night talking about each detail, from registration fees to basketball trophies and uniforms. They’d look and ask for volunteers, humans who’d be more than willing to coach teams, and man the game committee. As President, my dad would receive a huge number of registration forms from kids all over the compound. And according to the ages, he’d segregate them into 3 groups: A, B, C. Group A would consist of teenagers aged 15 and above. Group B would have 11-14, and kids aged 10 and beneath were put in Group C. From these groups, he would form teams, and use the players’ scores from tryouts to remainder the squads.

After a week of anticipation, my dad would post the teams on the bulletin board outside the court. Of course, I’d already sneaked into my dad’s files to see who’d be teammates with whom. The next day I’d call up my friends to head down to the court and look at the postings. It was like a wrestling match with all the pushing and shoving as we scrambled to see the lineups. Trashtalk was in play the moment one guy taunted, “John, ang bulok niyo oh. Pati kulay ng team niyo pangit”. Cusses here and there. Man, it was unquestionably on!

Finally, it was opening day. I do not forget being so excessively affected emotionally for our basi game, I slept late the night before to get tips from an NBA game I was looking at while lacing up my shoes. As soon as my dad got home from work, he’d down a meal and change into his casual gear and we’d be off to NW-4. The promised land. NW-4 was our Araneta Center. The place where you’d get to showcase your talent in front of thousands of people, well perhaps not thousands, but there were many. Every time I’d step on the court, a tingling sentiment would take over me, proof that I was pumped up. I’d get excessively affected emotionally and jittery all at the same time. The court was a finelooking sight. On the outside, two benches sat opposite each other, with the scoreboard and committee table in between. The white bold lines that traced the court’s inside gave life to the red and yellow paint that made up the freethrow area and the center circle. The orange steel rim, dropping a blue-red-white net, accentuated the black backboard. And then there were the crowd bleachers. This was NW-4. This was my happy place.

Everybody was ready and focalized as the referees collected the starting fives of each squad in the center circle. Tip-off. The ball gets thrown in the air and the clock starts. It was game time! Back and forth both teams went. A lay-up here, a block there. An help here, a steal there. Players elbowed each other as they positioned themselves to grab rebounds. In amid plays, I’d joke around with friends from the other team when it comes to how someone, for the duration of one play, looked as confused as a baby in a topless bar. One team would go on a run, and the other would get right back in. To everyone seated in the bleachers, this was entertainment. Then came the buzzer. The original half was over.

At halftime, not only did the players have a breather, but so did the crowd. It was a good thing there were feed stands nearby to hush those grumbling stomachs. My mom owned a booth, syndication sodas, water and coffee. She likewise sold potato chips, candies and other kiddie drugs. My aunt’s booth largely catered to the adults. I do not forget how persons loved her barbeque and devoured her “goto” for those cold windy nights. Placed next to her table, was my tita’s stand. She served tasty burgers and hot dog sandwiches, for those looking for a quick snack. Halftime was break time. As persons interchanged conversations, the coaches and players had no idle time as they discussed the good and bad things that transpired in the primary 20 minutes. Kids laugh and shout with rock candy crackling in their mouths as the referee blows the whistle to begin the second half.

The battle goes on, the crowd screaming with each possession. All the in-game action was called by Mr. Astrodome. People loved the game commentator because he’d always entertain the crowd with his antics. Every time I’d be in the game, I would feel the urge to make a good play or get a couple of shots in. I undertake to do everything right as soon as I detect my crush observing in the stands, impressing my way to earn a “Good game!” remark from her after the game. The third quarter went by as things heated up when an individual got a technical for arguing a call with the zebras.

It was down to the last quarter, where players thrive on pressure and inch their way towards the finish line. The defense of both teams would get tighter than airport security. The intensity elevated with each possession as sweat masked the players like flies on food. Every play was critical, each possession was crucial. In the end, my team would come out victorious. Of course we’d win, why would I opt to tell you guys otherwise? My teammates and I would high-five one another, expressing our jubilance. You’d always want to come out on top the primary game to get the probability to tease the opposing team on how sucky they were.

As the players shake hands and interchange banter, the people in the bleachers gather their things and head out. The committee files the scoresheets, pay the referees and head home. What was once a deafening and noisy place a few moments ago, now becomes silent, like a stop sign besides a road. My family always stays a little bit longer because my dad makes sure everything is in order before we lock the place up. I was tired like a monkey in the rain, but I soaked in the win. I always took a couple of minutes before leaving to go back to the court, shoot a few hoops, and picture how the game went, replaying in my mind each shot I made. All these made me smile. Yes, this was my happy place. This was the SCBL.

C Rem Silent Dog Whistle

Almost inaudible to the humane ear, the Remington silent dog whistle features an adaptable pitch that may be heard by your dog over 300 yards away. To adjust the tone of the whistle, remove the hard plastic sheath and turn the adjustment to the desired

Most helpful client reviews

93 of 94 humans found the following review helpful.
Works–and how, once dogs are trained to it.
By Douglas Henderson
Bought this model Remington dog whistle on Ebay a few weeks ago and, in a very short time, the dogs respond very speedily when using it. Don’t suppose a dog to know what to make of this whistle until you implement three necessary elements to in the right manner introduce the whistle to your dog.

The three componets:

1) Remington dog whistle
2) An apparent association of the whistle with a reward for the dog
3) A pork roast (or a heap of equivalent)

I just blew the whistle in the presence of the dogs and without delay feed them little slices of cheese or cooked pork. Once, I blew the whistle in the morning as I was handing out the dog bowls in the kitchen. This association with feed was not done speedily over a few days, but done randomly over with regards to 10 days, with no demand that the dogs respond to the whistle or any early attempts to see if it yet would cause the dogs to come running over from afar. I just tried to tie the sound to feed without expectations.

Today, I blew the whistle from the deck when the dogs were preoccupied digging up an ant hill in the back yard and their response was immediate–they came running–all three of the 6 to 8 month old dogs. Later, when I was inside watching TV, the dogs were out in the back yard unseen someplace and I just pulled the whistle from my pocket and blew it while sitting on the couch. I didn’t have to count to 5 before all three dogs flew through the dog door and right to me in eager greeting. I purchased this whistle in hopes of rounding up the dogs when hiking in the woods, since they exhaustively decrease rapidly on me from time to time. Expect this whistle with continued training will serve the intention of calling them in very well.

Nice, compact little whistle, with a removable hard plastic sheath that covers a frequency adjustment nut. Simple instructions. Have my whistle set to a shrill, mildly audible sound.

24 of 25 people found the following review helpful.
You’ve got to read the instructions!
By Rescue Dog Mom
I have 4 dogs. I purchased this item to aid get the attention of a dog that is hearing impaired. She, nor my other 3 could listen it. I didn’t observe anything but a wind noise when blowing in it. I tried it over and over, no response from any of them. Not a single ear raised.

THEN, I read the instructions on the back of the package! DUH! You ought to tune it yourself. This permitted me to adjust the pitch to my hearing impaired pup!

Haven’t used it for training yet, but I may get her attention when she can’t see or listen me.

17 of 17 persons found the following review helpful.
good whistle for the price
By Donald De Vun
My dog responds very well to this whistle. It has a hardly audible tone to the humane ear, but Calypso seems to be capable to listen even the lightest of whistles. My one and only complaint is that the plastic cover that goes over the tuning knob fits loosely, and the key chain loop is on this cover; I had to secure it with a piece of tape. Otherwise, magnificent whistle.

See all 35 client reviews…

C Rem Silent Dog Whistle Image

C Rem Silent Dog Whistle Image

C Rem Silent Dog Whistle Image

C Rem Silent Dog Whistle Image

C Rem Silent Dog Whistle Picture

C Rem Silent Dog Whistle Photo