No Hoop Dreams Lawmakers Sweat Out Frustrations

Jim Stoicheff has switched his hat from House minority leader to point guard. He’s clutching the ball at the top of the key as legislators, lobbyists and even lanky kids shuffle for position in front of him.

Stoicheff goes solo. He flips the ball and - swish - gets nothing but net. Both teams send up a cry of delight - the Sandpoint Democrat hits those long bombs about as often as his party gets its way on tax bills.

It’s legislative basketball, every Monday night in a slick-floored gym at a Mormon church. Bring your jump shot but leave your Statehouse badge at the door.

Much more than being an outside shooter, Stoicheff runs the whole show. He’s a cheerleader, a scorekeeper and the guy who picks the sides for the four-on-four games.

“Typical Idaho Legislature,” sighs Dennis Tanikuni, who represents Idaho Farm Bureau Federation interests. “There’s 30 Republicans and one Democrat, and the Democrat’s in charge.”

Fresh-faced Rep. Tom Dorr, R-Post Falls, cuts through the lane and lays the ball off the glass for a score. Stoicheff censures the freshman lawmaker: “No layups if you’re under 40.”

The first team to score five baskets wins as players sweat out the frustrations of politics. The only thing taxed on this court are lawmakers’ legs.

And it’s a coed game. Rep. Celia Gould, R-Buhl, takes a quick first step and cans an 18-foot jump shot over Stoicheff.

North Idaho Republican lawmakers Gordon Crow and Jeff Alltus are no-shows tonight, but they are semi-regulars.

On a stage beside the court, Robbie Dorr keeps an eye on her husband Tom and their four children. A pack of other kids boots basketballs around her. Because Robbie schools two of her four children at home while Tom spends long hours at the Capitol, the Dorrs don’t have a lot of time for recreation.

“Tom just absolutely loves playing. He really looks forward to it,” she says as her husband grabs a missed shot and heads up court. “We’ve gone out to museums and some other places, but this gives Tom a chance to work out.”

Dorr hops up from the court and snuggles his sweating face next to his wife. “It’s the post-game part of it that I don’t like that much,” she says with a smile.

The pick-up hoop tradition began in 1982, Stoicheff says later. He and other legislators tuned their games weekly, preparing for an annual contest with Boise businessmen before a Boise State University basketball game.

Each businessman paid $500 for the privilege of whumping the lawmakers on the court, he said. The money went to a children’s charity for families without health insurance, and he figures the games have raised close to $100,000 since they began.

“The only time we won one of those is when we got all 20 of us on the court with two minutes left in the game, and they didn’t score a single basket,” he says. The game may take place again if enough businessmen show interest.

“Maybe they’re tired of beating us this year.”