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In Greensboro, the Hoopville of North Carolina, we love our basketball.

And we love to win. You saw it the past few days at the Greensboro Coliseum, where fans in burnt orange and two drastically different shades of blue had to holler and shout in hopes their favorite college team would make it to the Big Dance.

But away from those screaming crowds, where winning is everything, you see a different kind of basketball spirit at B’nai Shalom Day School.

That’s where the Blizzards play. They’re not very good. They’ll tell you that.

They can’t really shoot or dribble or pass all that well. They aren’t tall or fast and quick as a blink.

We saw that kind of stylish play at our arena all weekend. The play of college players, some of them future millionaires, is like poetry.

The play of the Blizzards is … not.

So, it shouldn’t surprise anyone that last week, when the Blizzards’ six-game season ended, the school’s team of seventh- and eighth-graders won only one game.

For every eighth-grader on the team, this season probably represents the last chapter of their playing career.

Never again will they slip on a jersey, play organized basketball and fight for a banner to hang on their gym wall.

And for anyone raised in our competitive culture — particularly a teen wrestling with the emotions of adolescence — that’s tough.

You see that in the slumped shoulders of eighth-grader Isaac Kaplan, the team’s slender player in the sports goggles.

A few days ago, during the Blizzards’ last game, Isaac hung at the end of the bleachers because he was too blue to sit with the rest of his teammates.

He had played B’nai Shalom basketball since he was a fifth-grader. Now, four years later, as the seconds on the scoreboard clicked toward zero, he knew he would lose his last game for the Blizzards.

Final score: 19-30. Greensboro Day School won.

“I’m just sad, extremely sad,’’ Isaac said a few minutes after his last game Thursday. “I can’t play in high school, and this’ll be the last time I play. So, I feel kind of empty. I’ll never wear that jersey again.’’

Yet, Isaac and his teammates have learned to love the game for all the right reasons.

They have learned to play together as a team, applaud a nice shot and point to the player who made the good pass.

Boy or girl. Yes, the Blizzards are co-ed.

Sure, the boys do glower at the girls if they miss a shot. And sure, the girls do make fun of the boys when they try to channel their inner Tyler Hansbrough on the court.

Still, they bonded.

They all learned how to love basketball the old-fashioned way — on their front driveway, surrounded by their father, brothers or friends, playing in a city that gave birth to the Atlantic Coast Conference, the country’s marquee example of top-shelf college hoops.

Well, all of them except Paige Feldman. She tried out for the Blizzards last year because a friend of hers dared her. This year, she came back.

“Every time I missed a shot I’d get the glare from the guys, but I didn’t care because I didn’t have anything to lose,’’ says Paige, 13. “I didn’t know how to shoot or how to dribble. And it’s not my life’s goal to be a basketball player.

“But it taught me that even if you’re not 100 percent sure of something at least give it a try, and I know I want to keep trying to get better at doing that.’’

Paige hasn’t scored a point. But she’s learned how to rebound and dribble. She’s also learned to appreciate the philosophy of the trio of volunteer coaches who keep “winning” from the team’s athletic vocabulary.

In Greensboro, that seems so un-ACC. Yet, there’s Mark Hyman on the Blizzards’ sidelines, pacing, clapping and leaping so much his tie is awry and his Carolina blue dress shirt is always untucked.

He’s a local dentist, a nationally known motivational speaker and a UNC fan who always wanted to play for Dean Smith, even though — as he likes to say — “I’m 6 feet tall, Jewish, with a 2-inch vertical jump.”

For the past seven years, he’s coached B’nai Shalom basketball. Watch him. Or better yet, just listen.

“Lordy! Lordy! Lordy!’’

“Gotta fight, guys! Gotta fight! You’ve been playing great!’’

“Plenty of time. Give me some hands. On the count of three: 1-2-3. Team!’’

“Win or lose like a mensch, guys! Win or lose like a mensch!’’

That’s Yiddish for a person of honor. And that’s B’nai Shalom basketball.

It’s a different definition of winning, planting the seeds of possibility, showing kids the victory of teamwork.

It’s a quote from Olympic track star Carl Lewis, written on the grease board in their gym’s equipment room: “It’s all about the journey, not the outcome.’’

Isaac Kaplan gets it.

So does Paige Feldman and the rest of their teammates.

Their journey.

They are well on the way.

Here in Hoopville.

Contact Jeri Rowe at 373-7374 or jeri.rowe@news-record.com