I've restrained myself from joining the language conversation because… Well because languages are among my favorite playthings, hobbies, avocations. In our household we have Portuguese speakers, Spanish speakers, (somewhat rusty) Italian speakers, French speakers, and a couple of very different varieties of English from both sides of the pond. Multilingual puns run rampant around here, and some are so dreadful we laugh at one another for daring to be so absurd.
With that as background, here's an old memory from the time when I was teaching undergraduates intermediate Spanish at a research university. It was the late 1960s. The students were having trouble with the notion of grammatical gender, which English lacks, but is fundamental in the Romance languages.
Teacher: ¿Cuáles son los tres géneros de la palabra pez?
What are the three genders for the word fish? (In the real world there are only two.)
Students: confused looks on their faces.
Teacher: El pez. (The fish, masculine pronoun el)
La pez (The fish, feminine pronoun la)
López (López is a common surname in Spanish. Lo is a neuter gender pronoun.)
Half the students had blank looks. The other half, who knew more, just groaned in theatrical agony.)
Back to baloncesto/basquete/basketball…
A Spanish man who spoke no English went into a department store to buy socks. He found his way to the menswear department where a young lady offered to help him.
"Quiero calcetines" said the man.
"I don't speak Spanish, but we have some very nice suits over here." said the salesgirl.
"No, no quiero trajes. Quiero calcetines." said the man.
"I still don't know what you're trying to say. We have some fine pants on this rack." offered the salesgirl.
"No, no quiero pantalones. Quiero calcetines." insisted the man.
"These sweaters are top quality." the salesgirl probed.
"No, no quiero sueter. Quiero calcetines." said the man.
"Our undershirts are over here." fumbled the salesgirl, beginning to lose patience.
"No, no quiero camisetas. Quiero calcetines." the man repeated.
As they passed the underwear counter, the man spotted a display of socks and happily grabbed a pair. Holding them up he proclaimed "Eso sí que es!".
"Well, if you could spell it, why didn't you do that in the beginning?" asked the exasperated salesgirl