So last month, my neighbor Mike saw me shooting hoops on that cracked concrete slab out back. “Dude, you’re gonna wreck your knees on that!” he yelled over the fence. And yeah, dang straight my ankles were killing me. So I got this bright idea: slap down some proper basketball flooring myself. Found these interlocking plywood panels advertised as gym flooring – perfect, right?

First Up: Sweat and Concrete Prep

Hauled all the junk off my patio first. Broken flower pots, a rusty grill, you name it. Then I spent a whole weekend with a stiff broom, a hose, and one of those push scrapers you kneel on. My back was screaming! Goal was just getting the concrete as flat and clean as I could. Found a couple low spots filled with crumbly old cement. Chipped ’em out, swept the dust up good. Wasn’t aiming for perfection, just no big bumps or pits.

The Wood Showed Up – Then Problems Started

Truck dropped off the pallet of plywood tiles. Looked slick online – finished maple surface, nice beveled edges. But man, opening that first box? Smelled like a lumber yard that closed in ’83. Strong! Figured airing ’em out would help. Propped ’em against the garage wall for a solid week, flipping ’em every day hoping the smell would fade. It kinda… lessened? Mostly.

Started dry-fitting the panels right there on the clean patio. Boom, problem number one: my patio isn’t perfectly square! Felt freaking stupid for not measuring that corner angle sooner. Ended up having to trim the edges on the last row panels with my circular saw to get ’em to fit snug against the house siding. Messy business.

Smackin’ Wood Into Place

Time for laying the actual tiles. Each panel has these tongue-and-groove plastic connectors. Sounds easy:

• Angle the tongue into the groove.
• Give it a good whack downward with a rubber mallet.
• Listen for the satisfying “click”.

The first few rows? Clicked together like magic. Felt awesome! By row five, my mallet arm was feeling it. By row eight, I was cussing every click. Those connectors need some serious muscle sometimes. Pretty sure my whole block heard me pounding away. Gotta ensure every panel is totally locked tight, no wiggling, or else the whole floor could shift later.

The Bloody Final Stretch

Thought I was home free when the main field was down. Wrong. Needed to trim the perimeter edge pieces so they weren’t sticking out weird against the concrete patio border. Measured carefully, drew my cut lines, clamped the panels down. Grabbed my trusty jigsaw… and of course, right near the end, the stupid blade snagged on a knot. Kicked back hard. Almost dropped the saw. Ended up with a tiny splinter from the panel piercing my pinky. Finished the cuts with extra caution (and a bandaid). Slid the final trimmed pieces into place, clicking ’em down. Whew!

So… Was It Worth It?

The floor looks like crap? Well, maybe not “crap,” but it’s definitely not some NBA court shine. It’s plywood, after all. But listen:

• My ankles don’t ache after a game anymore. Huge win.
• The ball bounces true now, no crazy concrete skips.
• That initial toxic smell finally vanished after a month outdoors.

Would I do it again? Man, putting all that sweat and splinters into it? Honestly… probably not. But for saving a ton of cash versus a poured court? And getting that authentic hardwood feel? Yeah, okay, maybe I would. Just… maybe wait till my shoulder recovers!