From the haunting, legendary metal-fenced blacktop courts which periodically bloom and decline in the inner cities to the desolate barn-yard rims which span the breadth of rural America spring the unmistakable and common rhythms of the game.

The clean swish of net, feet scuffling, the beat of leather against concrete - these sounds sustain youngsters who give themselves to the sport and who invariably, despite ethnic and geographical divides, succumb briefly to the same fanciful notion of superstardom.

"It's definitely every kid's dream to play in the NBA," says Mitch Henderson, a 22-year-old point guard who in June was on the verge of professionalism as he worked out with the Atlanta Hawks and now finds himself preparing for his first game in the Irish Superleague, which begins this weekend.

Henderson hails from Indiana, the spiritual home of basketball. Culver, his home town, has a community of around 5,000 and the local high school team annually play a central role in the lives of most citizens who raise the rafters in the 1,500-seater gym on game nights and assess the fall-out the day after. Everyone has an opinion.

"It's true, basketball really dominates in Indiana. You literally see a hoop outside every house. I guess playing high school basketball gives kids an opportunity to live out something special in their lives, especially those who don't go on to play in college. It does have its pressures, but I guess it's kind of like the Gaelic football here last weekend, where everyone seems to have a say on the team," observes Henderson from his new home in Sligo, for whom he will play this season.

At the beginning of the summer, Ireland was a distant afterthought, a shimmering place he someday wanted to visit. Henderson, a 6ft 2in ballhandler with rasping speed, had enjoyed a glittering career at Princeton University and by sophomore year had begun to receive discreet overtures from a number of NBA clubs, particularly the Atlanta Hawks.

"They never approach you directly as that's against NCAA (the National Collegiate Athletic Association) rules. But, you know, they scout games, talk to assistant coaches about you, maybe drop the odd note. They let you know."

And so he packed his bags and left the New Jersey campus in June, an Economics degree in his back pocket and ahead of him a realistic shot of playing in the dazzling, faintly surreal world of the NBA.

He competed at a number of workshops before the draft (the selection process through which NBA teams choose the elite college players) and was then invited to work out with the Hawks. But then, the disagreements between club owners and players over wage agreements escalated, and, as anticipated, a "lock-out" began, leaving a sports-crazy nation facing the prospect of a winter without pro hoops.

Henderson, like everyone else, was left in limbo. "I was by no means guaranteed a spot on the Hawks roster. I guess they need a back-up point for Mookie (Blaylock, one of the NBA's brightest lights) and I was delighted they showed an interest in me. The lock-out was frustrating and I'm just hopeful that they will call if this thing gets sorted out."

Like virtually everyone, Henderson is non-plussed by the wage row which has frozen the sport after an incredible final series shaped by Michael Jordan. Shaquille O'Neill reportedly declared he couldn't understand what the fuss was about, that most NBA stars had more dollars than they knew what to do with.

"Well, Shaq says things which are hard to believe sometimes," laughs Henderson. "Look, I've heard about 20 different explanations for the reason behind this lock-out. Basically, the players are worried about the future, they don't want to get tied to an agreement which could smother them in later years. Everything is up in the air now. Agents are just telling guys to play golf, stay in shape. Some guys (including the 7ft 1in number one college draft choice) are out surfing in Hawaii."

Henderson didn't know which way to turn. A trip to continental Europe would most likely have yielded fairly lucrative professional action, but the resulting contract would have left him in a dilemma if the NBA lock-out was suddenly resolved and the Hawks came calling.

A chance conversation with his former college team-mate Chris Doyle (now with St Vincent's, Dublin) led to a phone-call from Ballina's Liam McHale, who put him in touch with Sligo. After another call, he committed himself to the northwest club on the understanding that he could leave if the NBA season starts and the Hawks sign him.

"It's something I feel a little awkward about, you know, I don't want Sligo people to think I am just here for a few games and then breezing out of there. I am committed to the club and am really grateful for the opportunity to play as a professional here. I look at this as a wonderful place to spend some time. It's just that the chance of playing NBA - and I should say it's still just a chance - is something I've always dreamed of and it doesn't come your way easily."

He reacted with true eagerness to the sudden Irish development, jumping on a plane 24 hours after a deal was struck and togging out to play a tournament in Glasnevin, despite being hit by 'flu and jet-lag.

"I could see straight away that the standard was fairly solid. You know, Denny (Notre Dame) are good, Star (of the Sea, Belfast) had a rough weekend, but you can see they have ability and there is a good work ethic. The Sligo guys have made coming here a very pleasant experience for me and I'm really looking forward to the season."

Henderson declared that he was "horrible" in the Dublin tournament, but neutrals there were left enthralled by the speed of his first step and sleight of hand, the seamless ball work and lightening passing. Word went round that he was a player. "I find that hard to believe, I was terrible," he laughs.

"No, I mean, the truth is that I have never come up against anything like the playing intensity of the past four months, with the NCAA finals and the work-outs. Without being disrespectful to other countries, it's just at a different level. I saw that when I started college. In high school, I felt I had fairly good control of the ball. I went to Princeton and suddenly the coaches were yelling at me that I'm a terrible dribbler. The really good guys never turn the ball over. So I honestly found myself practising my ball-work an hour or two before our sessions started every single day."

After a visit to the famous campus while still in Culver, Henderson knew he wanted to go to college there. He was one of the tiny percentage of high school athletes to win a First Division scholarship and entered Princeton's basketball programme at a time when its star was soaring.

At the outset of last season, they had a national ranking of seven. For the Indiana senior, it was to be a final, unforgettable season of practice, weights rooms, study, late-night flights and starting roles in nationally televised games. Although the team won their own Ivy League, they were upset in the early rounds of the NCAA finals. A few of his team-mates drifted across to play ball in Europe, some sought jobs, Henderson pursued the NBA.

But all were momentarily stunned at the sudden end to four years of campus stardom and TV nights and seeking those occasional, beautiful moments when they would gel to touch near perfection on the court.

"Americans love college sport because it sort of retains the innocence, there is no money for athletes. But coaches want to win and it's a tough business. I played in the really great college arenas like the Dean Dome (home of North Carolina) and maybe in places like that I'd imagine players finishing there, where basketball is everything, find it hard to re-adjust to street life. But in Princeton, they stress academics as well, so you leave there as a fairly well-rounded individual."

Once he started in Princeton, Henderson rarely had time to travel back to Culver and his family have since moved to Lexington in Kentucky.

Yet he looks back on his time there with fondness and knows that on more than one occasion this winter, local talk will invariably twist towards distant sequences in games past which still bear his print.

His leaving, the sight of him calling the shots for Princeton, matters in Culver. They live his dreams vicariously and doubtless hope to see him play in Atlanta. But Sligo? Time to haul down the atlas and find out where in the hell this ball club is.

"Well, I knew nothing except there was a League here so it's safe to assume most people back home know less. But they are basketball crazy and would love to see the games here."

Irish Superleague results posted in the heartland? Maybe someday.