The Basketball Diaries

I admit it. On occasion, for the purpose of this blog I have taken some small liberties with my story telling. Don't take offense; these stories are far from fiction. My imagination is not inventive enough to conjure up such tales, but, on occasion, I will write something funnier than it was when it happened. However, not even the tiniest of embellishments are needed for the following narrative. In fact, I'll be lucky to do it justice.

I did not have high expectations when entering the gym, and looking back I was questioning myself for being so quick to dismiss something before even experiencing it. Thus far while in France, I have certainly embraced the cuisine, the language, and the people; and, the majority of the time very few of my preconceived notions have been withheld. People aren't nearly as rude as I was told they would be and the bureaucracy isn't quite as ridiculous as I was led to believe it would be. Why should hoops be any different? After all, Tony Parker is French, and, in general, French people seem to be more active than Americans. Could the reality of a pick up game in France be as bad as what I had pictured up in my head?

No, it was so so much worse. I'm sure there is some decent, even very good, basketball being played throughout France, but I did not find it Wednesday night.

We started by warming up, in a pretty typical fashion, and surprisingly I could tell I was a little nervous. I'd introduced myself and given them a little background information, which is always necessary to help explain why you can't speak the indigenous language. Most of them were very impressed that I was a basketball coach back in the U.S.. In fact this was how the coach introduced me to everyone else. "Le Coach American". I also heard the words (or letters rather) "NBA" spoken. They were joking, but it still gives you a reference point. So you see, I was right to be nervous, I had a lot to live up to.

After mandatory stretching, along with what I can only assume was a thorough explanation of each stretch and its importance, the coach divided us up for a little pick up game. He also handed out jerseys for the teams. I opted to keep my shirt on underneath as I figured I would have enough eyes on me without wearing a yellow, see through, mid riff.

My first shot was not pretty. Not quite an airball, but it sure wasn't pretty. Did the nerves get to me? Not really, it’s just that a girl's ball just doesn't feel the same in your hands, especially when you aren't expecting it. Stupid of me not to be expecting it though as our merry band of cagers was almost half women. Open sign up for a basketball program in this little (but not that little) town yielded 6 men and 6 women.

That I followed my wife's career to France while taking care of our children should tell you everything you need to know about the level of my chauvinism; however, I think it's fair to say that their aren't a lot of women, at any level, that are strong enough to guard a man my size in the post. It's just the way it is. Add into this equation that 5 of the 6 women playing in this game were probably playing in their first game ever, and you can start to get the picture.

I certainly never guarded one of the women and none of the women guarded me, but they were still there, on the court and in the way. Again that's not chauvinistic, it’s dangerous. My 113.5 kg (still sounds better than 250 lb) can still move pretty quick, it just can't stop very quick. The men were really trying to stop me, so I'd have to use a quick step or spin move to get around them, which wasn't too hard. The real challenge was sidestepping the petite mademoiselle standing in the lane with her head turned the other direction clueless that she was about to be made into a pancake, or rather a crepe. Basketball, like many sports, is about knowledge. Sure it takes some athletic ability but just knowing where to be and where not to be can make you better and keep you from getting hurt. These girls had none of this.

A few of the men were certainly better but there was just something different about the way they played. I've watched kids playing soccer at Audrey and Lane's school, and am always amazed. They do some amazing things with their feet. I saw 8 year olds tossing up the ball to do a handstand and kick the ball in the goal while upside down and backwards. Yet, I'll bet they couldn't have dribbled the ball once around the playground. I'll have to do a search for any scientific studies on the correlation between foot/eye coordination and hand/eye coordination. More specifically, if you have a lot of one, does it mean you don't have one of the other? Gun to my head I couldn't keep a ball in the air with my two lower limbs for longer than 10 seconds, and if I tried to play soccer it would show. Well, its opposite for these guys. They just look awkward playing basketball, I don't know how else to say it.

"Perdon". It means "excuse me" and it was the easily the most commonly uttered word of the evening. Can you imagine it? Every time you accidently bump into someone on the court you actually pause and say "Oh, excuse me". It was slightly less physical game than I'm used to. And not just the accidental contact, there was almost no contact at all. They didn't set picks and forget boxing out. This worked for and against me. On one hand I reeled in about 3/4 of the rebounds. On the other hand I also reeled in a few close range passes an inch from my face while trying to set a ball screen. Along with this lack of physical play was their definition of a “foul”. If this coach would have been calling a randomly selected high school game back home, no player would have lasted more than a half.

One last thing. Lines. Every sport has ‘em. Boundaries, service line, distance markers, etc. and when they are used in their respective sports they make sense. However, when you put them all onto one floor you end up with something like this.

Honestly I think it would have been less confusing with no lines at all. It's certainly a multi purpose gym, not a basketball court. But , of course, I'd be even more dumfounded if they did have a gym just for basketball.

Well, that’s about all I can remember, but fear not, I’m planning on going back every week. I’ll get some exercise and I can always work on my shot. But the best part: Wednesdays just became a 2 for 1 special on blog fuel. How could I pass that up?