Few things in sports are as raw as streetball. But you don’t have to be at The Rucker to catch some good run.

Behind the office building this newspaper calls home, there is some of the best and worst streetball run you’ve never seen.

On lunch break, like clock-work, you can peek around the corner of the parking garage and into the adjacent lot for a gander.

Impromptu games of three-on-three, four-on-four and some unruly mix that sometimes ends up with the participants unable to distinguish between opponents and teammates.

They heave circus-shots wildly towards the hoop, connecting with nothing far more often than with anything. Runners off one leg, left-handed layups that fly over the backboard; behind the back, no look passes that have “Pistol” Pete Maravich rolling over in his grave for their lack of accuracy or purpose; this is streetball at it’s worst.

And at it’s best.

Even with all the grabbing and light shoving, no one calls “foul”. The typical tough-guy, streetball arguments over out of bounds or two-pointers versus one-pointers that often define the experience are no where to be found; replaced with a laid-back demeanor more familiar to a neighborhood barbeque than hoops on the blacktop.

No one insists on dominating the ball on offense, or criticizes a teammate for not looking his way.

Not only is the game played below the rim, it’s played below the net.

And it’s played with a smile.

How did the hoop even arrive? With it’s tri-colored red, white and blue net, it is the only one in the parking lot, located in front of a handicap parking spot near the entrance to the building and seemingly completely out of place.

Right up until lunch time rolls around.