Just Do It

The guy who has tried to fix my Internet at my apartment unsuccessfully for the past two days asked me to play basketball with his friends on Sunday, which was cool.  He told me he would pick me up at 7am and I thought, hey, the Liberians are like the Chinese in terms of their morning workout industry.  Would they also play in flip-flops?

I woke up at 6:15 to shower, stretch and pump up the basketball I brought with me from the States which is by far on the top ten list of items packed with me.  I debated whether to bring my camera, which could get stolen (I did).  I debated whether to tell someone I was going with a stranger to play basketball in case I didn't come back (i did not).  When 7 arrived and Washington had still not come, I practiced guitar.  At 7:45 I thought dude ain't coming which was followed by a call from Washington who said, "hey, I'm here."

The neighborhood crowd was just completing the organization of teams when Washington, his friend Sullivan and I arrived in Washington's SUV blasting Eamon's, "Fuck What I Said".  The court was dusty and the rusty rims bent but full length and the cement surface maintained.  The area was surrounded by grand trees with smooth twisted grey trunks and lengthy yellowed leaves, which occasionally flitted down in sufficient numbers to stop play.  On one tree, a small wooden score board had been nailed to its body.  Surrounding the court was a small white retaining wall on which many in the neighborhood sat.  Surrounding the wall was a small church with thatched roof, some houses, a broken swing set, and the road leading up to Monrovia's main street from where we had come.

To play, each participant paid 5 Liberian dollars (10 cents U.S.) whereby a guy with crinkled lined paper and pen wrote down names-- each team comprised of 3 young players and 2 older which was certainly a way to assure fairness but also reflected the ratio of assembled players.  Turns out Washington stopped playing years ago and Sullivan was recovering from a broken toe that he had suffered 4 months ago, so they had come to simply to take me.   I was placed on the list.  By the looks and stares I received upon walking onto the court, I am not sure the court had even had an Asian play on it.  I shot around:  my first shot an air-ball, then a hit some rim, then I went for a layup, then I started to relax into the situation.  Was I comfortable?  Not really.  Was I casual?  Most definitely yes.  I was born and raised in Salt Lake City, Utah!  I just came from Harlem where I lived for 3 1/2 years.  If this doesn't make for sufficient minority resistance training I don't know what does.

After all the players took to center court, held hands and prayed, the games began.  I played the second game with two skilled players and two older players which means that I for the first time in my life I was placed with in the older basketball player category.  Oh vicious mortality!!!   It didn't matter. The guy who guarded me was a Liberian six foot two 27 year old who grew up in Ohio who was on the Liberian National team and had tried to make it professionally in Asia though he wouldn't pass (my advantage).  I held my own.  It was so hot, but occasionally there was a breeze that made it better.  My shirt gradually became a sopping gray.  Many people watched the action.  With each shot, or pass, move or steal I made there were oohs and ahs and high fives. The ref made good and bad calls and there were dramatic protests, hysterics, easy laughter and shouts.  During the game, small children sold bags of cold water for 5 Liberian.  When the ball would bounce off the court down into someone's yard, the neighborhood kids would scramble and go running for it as if they were playing soccer.  The game was to 10, with shots made beyond the point line counting for 2.  When a team reached 5 points, teams changed sides.  5 fouls and you are out.  I am a strategic hack and played with 4 fouls pretty much for half the way.  We lost the first game and won the second, third and fourth until one of our team members had to go to work, dissolving the team to the disgruntlement of the team we were to play in the finals.

We played for 3 hours.  Between games I met many interesting people.  I met the Vice President's son and two of President Sirleaf's personal bodyguards.  I met a guy named Taps whose brother plays football for the Miami Dolphins.  Later a guy from Mainland China who helped out with the National Liberian Radio Station came to the courts and he asked me to dinner.  I realized I didn't know how to say Health Director of the NGO down the street in Mandarin.  I exchanged phone numbers with literally half the guys and promised to play in a basketball league that starts this March, next Saturday to go to the beach and next Sunday to come back.  Taps was going to call me to take me to a typical Liberian lunch later in the week.  A very fun day.  Part of the reason I love basketball and enjoy being here.