As told by Patrick Di Lizio
Diamond Valley Basketball Association, gave me, my sister and my mum our first taste of basketball and I have never looked back. From developing a love for the sport on the court to then growing a passion and understanding how I can make a difference from off the court. My role now looks a lot different from the first time I stepped on the court to now where I am the General Manager to the association I grew up in.
My older sister Carla played over 300 games of basketball for Apollo. So, naturally, after spending years being beaten by her in the backyard, I became pretty keen to play myself.
My first opportunity came when I was in Prep. I was dressed and ready to attend a beginner session, but I was also completely locked into the Nintendo. Princess Peach wasn’t going to save herself. So at the last minute, I decided I wasn’t going. Mum was not particularly pleased.
Thankfully, another opportunity soon came along—a three-day holiday camp at what was known then as the Diamond Valley Civic Centre.
It must have been around 1993 or 1994. I was placed with the littlies, judging by the mini courts we were using. I remember crossing the walking bridge, entering the stadium, turning left at the canteen and heading down the stairs, what is now the gym entrance, the stairs are gone and the courts are Jumpshots.
One of my earliest memories from that camp is standing in a circle while we were taught how to stretch. The coach asked if anyone knew why stretching was important. I knew the answer, but before I could say anything, the kid next to me yelled it out without putting his hand up.
I was furious. Clearly, even then, I had strong feelings about process and governance.
On the second day, we had a special guest: a young Sam Mackinnon.
Either Sam arrived early or I did, because I remember it being just him, me and a few other kids waiting for the day to begin. One of the kids called out, “Do a windmill!”
I had absolutely no idea what that meant.
Sam took a short run-up, bounced the ball once, wound his arm around and threw it down on the eight-foot ring.
Yep, that’ll do it. I was hooked.
I won a South East Melbourne Magic hat at the camp, so it must have been around Sam’s rookie season. That hat lasted about a month before a magpie swooped me at Binnak Park and took it to its nest. But I remember wearing it everywhere, which probably tells you how completely basketball had taken over my life.
Embarrassingly, when I met Sam again as an adult, someone had already told him that story. It has always been one of my go-to memories.
Knowing that he was a local and seeing what he went on to achieve was incredibly inspiring. It wasn’t that I ever believed I was going to follow the same playing path—anyone who saw me play would know that was never particularly likely. It was simply the realisation that someone from around here could reach that level.
A few years later, I crossed that walking bridge again to finally register to play. Lynne Smith was sitting behind the registration table. When I walked up, she looked at me and said, “It’s about time.”
Basketball became the reason I kept coaching, and eventually the reason I realised I wanted to make a career in sport. It was never going to be through what I could do on the court, but I began to understand that I could still make an impact away from it.
My journey towards working in basketball was a long one. Eventually, an opportunity arose to come home to Diamond Valley.
At the time, I was working interstate with SA Country Basketball and my mum had been diagnosed with Motor Neurone Disease. As the universe sometimes does, it placed something in front of me at exactly the moment we needed it.
Coming back to Diamond Valley meant returning to the place where I had first discovered my passion for the game. More importantly, it meant being closer to Mum.
After she passed away, I was going through her belongings and found a volunteer recognition plaque she had received from Apollo Rockets. I never even knew she had been given one.
I remembered her learning how to complete the scoresheet, despite never having played basketball or grown up around the sport. I had to sign that scoresheet a few times over the years …And she was the first person to know when I received a technical foul, as she was the one who had to write it next to my name.
As a kid, I never fully appreciated her willingness to help. Basketball wasn’t her sport, but because my sister and I loved it, she gave her time to it.
Diamond Valley is enormously different from the association I grew up in. It is bigger, busier and more complex. But in its essence, when the ball goes up for the opening tip, it remains exactly the same: ten ratbags running around after a basketball.
Basketball gave me the opportunity to experience success and disappointment. It taught me about adversity, teamwork and responsibility. It taught me how to join a team with people I didn’t know, work with coaches whose approach I might not always have understood, and find common ground with teammates whose personalities were different from mine. It taught me that you don’t have to agree on everything to work together towards something important.
It gave me memories of my sister, my mum and the people who helped raise generations of local kids. It gave me friendships, a career and a purpose. It gave me an example to look up to when Slammin’ Sam threw down that windmill, and eventually it gave me the opportunity to come home and contribute to the same place that had given so much to me.
Now, I’m fortunate enough to help shape what Diamond Valley Basketball Association becomes next.
My hope is that we can continue to protect what makes this place special while creating even more opportunities for the generations coming through. Somewhere among the thousands of children who walk into our stadiums each year, there will be another kid attending their first holiday camp, joining their first team or discovering something that stays with them for life.
They may become an elite player, a coach, a referee, a volunteer or simply someone who remembers their time here with enormous affection. They might even end up running the place one day.
