Sandal Peltings

From Nov. 17-09

Earthlings,

Last nite we didn't practice and so I went and watched a double header at the arena. The first game was Manama vs. Najmah. You remember that Najmah was the team that was not initially ready to play us. We played them several days ago and...surprise! We weren't ready to play them! We stunk up the gym for three quarters before pulling away to a 106-84 win. Proved once again we can't guard your grandma.

Najmah was ready to play Manama tonite, however, and led by one at the half but lost by around thirty. And only one thing is guaranteed when you're ready but not successful: fireworks. With about 3 minutes left in the game the little Najmah point guard, certain he'd been repeatedly done wrong by the refs, and being taunted by the Manama crowd, went haywire.

He raced, screaming, back and forth among the 3 refs, forecefully making his case. This amused the Manama folk and upped their derision of wee number 4. So he had no recourse but to race to the fence and hop around and scream at them (while flashing an international sign repeatedly to them) and motion them to the exit...where he would presumably beat the dickens out of them all. They did, in fact, race for the exit, and perhaps they killed the diminutive number 4 and he still lies in the parking lot. I'm not sure.

What I am sure of is that, as he stood screaming, the blue crowd pelted him with sandals and flip-flops. You know that a direct hit from either of these missiles can prove fatal. Many times in the Arab world, during these periods of "ArabMania," as I've always called them, I've seen the hurling of sandals. My question is this: What does the flinger think when, later, he looks down and says, "I'm wearing but one sandal"? Or, "What became of my other flip-flop?" Does he remember, and later ask Security guys to go look for it? Or does he say, "Never mind, it was worth it," and walk, semi-shod to his car and drive home that way? When he comes in his house does his wife say, "Have you been throwing your sandal again? Hit anything?"

There were only minor fireworks in the second game. Those occurred when the big scoreboard, for the second consecutive night, went nuts and started flashing like an arcade game. This happened the nite before, as we waited to play the second game. First, the scoreboard started blinking and the first casualty was the number of points (kept up-to-the-minute after players' numbers) having been scored by each individual. I quickly noticed that one player now had 80 points and a teammate sported 72. Not at all bad...152 markers between them, and still early in the 3rd quarter. Reminds me of the story that ex-Laker Hot Rod Hundley used to tell: "Ill never forget the night that Elgin (Baylor) and I teamed up to score 77 against the Celtics." What he neglected to mention was that Elgin had 71 of those.

Anyway, soon the arena light also went off. They eventually came back on, but the scoreboard could not be coaxed into functioning properly. So they sent for the backup scoreboard. You probably suppose, foolishly, that the backup is kept in a back store room. Of course not. It is kept in another arena, where they used to play hoop games. Someone drove something to fetch it (what do you carry a large portable scoreboard in?) and it arrived 45 minutes later. By then the game that had been in progress was suspended because the rules say that must be the case should a contest be delayed one hour. Further, the game must be resumed within 24 hours. Both excellent rules.

So those teams went home and we took the floor. We had probably a ten-minute warmup and then officials said that the scoreboard, wheeled under one basket, was ready. We'll start right now. So we did, facing the green and white clad Bahrain Club squad, winless into this fourth consecutive season. For this game they'd somehow managed to exchange their aging Iraqi school teacher for a big white guy. It didn't make much difference, as they still weren't too potent and we won comfortably.

But you're wondering whether or not that stout (and bullet-headed) coach wore his Chicago Bears Mike Singletary jersey for the third consecutive game. He most certainly DID NOT. He stayed with the baggy red and blue shorts that he favors, but replaced Singletary with...Bruce! That would be wide receiver Isaac Bruce. Red and white jersey, no. 88. Once again, sartorial splendor was his. One of his old and burly players, by the way, sports game shorts that come down to just above his ankles. I have to marvel at the amount of material it took just to cover his lower body.
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I continue to power-walk every other day. Curious to learn how many square miles I was walking per day, I made the requisite calculation: two miles this way, two miles that way; so, 4000 square miles. Not at all bad.

After church on Friday I joined Rick, his friend Darren, and film-maker Art and his Dutch wife Mariette for lunch at The Country Club. A large rustic-looking eatery amid a lot of easy-on-the-eyes greenery. The club is a social/recreation club, and we sat looking out at the swimming pool across the way. Very pleasant. But the prices weren't pleasant. They wanted $28 dollars for the buffet (which boasted pork, unavailable at most places; you need special pork license, honest).

Three of our group were undaunted and had the buffet; I ordered Prawns Newburg, still way too expensive at about $20. Nothing was cheap. Art sent back both his Margarita and his initial entree...fish in some sort of sauce. I never have the nerve to do things like that.

The surprising thing about Rick and Darren having the buffet was that they were going to duel in squash at the British Club an hour later. Everyone knows that when you eat at a buffet you're obliged to eat to the bursting point. Not exactly the best pre-game scenario. An hour later...puke everywhere. Yuck.

My coaching friend Ozell was put on a plane a few days ago. He flew to Estonia, where he, amazingly, has a house (he coached there couple of years ago). Would you believe that he's the only denizen in Tallin (the capital) who's roots are from the Dominican Republic? He assures me it's true. Yesterday he was to fly to Palestine (!) to start a new gig there. A glutton for privation, he coached 3 months in Yemen last summer. These are not holiday resort destinations.

But the Ritz Carlton here IS a holiday resort destination. I went there for a look-see yesterday and was much impressed with facilities, beaches, marina, and all the rest. Very pricey. I asked the Indians at the desk where you enter if memberships were available. They scoffed at me. How could they possibly have so easily detected that I was a lowlife? Maybe the wife-beater undershirt that I was wearing under my overalls?

Cheers,
Coach Pea