Rotary District 5890 Scholar 08-09: Tribhuvan University: No One Wears a Jordan Jersey Anymore

About three weeks ago an M.Sc. classmate told me the campus basketball team was practicing at the outdoor court and I should go talk to them. He told me they were getting ready for next week’s tournament. If I went down to the court, they would be sure to let me play on the team based on height advantage alone. I decided to walk down and see what things looked like. At the court, I saw a group of young B.Sc. students practicing. Not one of them was over 22 years old. I was approached by last year’s team captain. He told me I would have to try out for the team and I would need to come to every practice. He added that their team had won the past two tournaments and they were going for a third championship. I stepped onto the court and began playing around a little. It would be a few days before the basketball skills learned during my college years came back to me. Before leaving I talked to them about the limited practices I could make. Since I was M.Sc., my class schedule was opposite of theirs. I promised that if they started a little earlier, I would play for half of practice before going to my night lectures.

The next day I headed into Kathmandu to buy some basketball gear. Due to my size, I knew that I couldn’t frequent many of the cheap Nepali shops that sold “duplicate” jerseys, as they are called here. Instead, I had to go to the “genuine” Adidas store and buy the biggest clothes they offered. After trying on various clothes there, I found a plain jersey, pair of shorts, and basketball that suited me. On my way back to the campus I decided to stop at a notable “hip-hop and urban fashion” clothing store I had been in before. This place sold jerseys that were meant to be large and baggy on Nepali customers. They were also a perfect normal size fit for me. I perused through the rack of jerseys I had seen before. I didn’t like most of the players whose jerseys I had seen last time. At the back of the rack I came across a new jersey. It was a Michael Jordan jersey. During his playing years, I was never a Jordan fan, but the jersey still intrigued me. I tried it on and it fit.
When I went to pay for it, the shop owner said to me, “That’s a very rare jersey. Not many around.”
I responded, “Yeah, no one wears a Jordan jersey anymore. When you wear it, it’s like…”
“You’re basically saying that you’re the best that ever was. Most people don’t want to look that boastful,” he cut in.
“And when you wear it on the basketball court, you’re expected to play up to his level. You’re expected to be the best player on the court, or at least to run down every ball, hustle on every play, and never give up,” I concluded. I paid for the jersey and left the shop.

I practiced with the team every day as my basketball skills slowly returned. Each time I wore the plain Adidas jersey. I wanted to save the Jordan jersey for later. I didn’t have too much trouble making the team, but my status as part of the starting five was not secure. I knew that several students were hoping for me to play as a starter. Unfortunately, the Tuesday before the tournament, I rolled my ankle in practice. I knew it wasn’t as bad as times I had sprained it before, but I wasn’t sure how long it would take to recover. With the tournament due to begin Friday, three days of healing time was definitely not enough. In addition, I had a bruised rib cage from taking so many shots from Nepali shoulders. Each night I had to sleep in the same position so that I wasn’t lying on my ribs and my foot was comfortably resting without pressure. On Thursday it was my birthday. Lying sorely in bed, I stopped and thought about how I had just turned 30. I also thought about how I was about to play through injury in a tournament full of 22 year old students. Fortunately, Thursday also came with a call from the team manager. He told me the start of the tournament had been delayed until Monday. I accepted it as a good birthday present.

I rested and practiced lightly on my ankle during the weekend. On Monday I was good enough to play. The concept of the tournament was the “All-Technical Cup”. A regular tournament, it featured teams from all of the Nepali engineering schools that chose to register. In the past, medical schools had joined in, although this year none of them signed up. The tournament was held on an outdoor court at Kathmandu Model College, which also had a grade school on site. Every time I showed up to play, I was surrounded by a swarm of children looking to meet the only foreigner there. I shook countless children’s hands before each match. I have no idea how many times I said, “I am Brian. I am from the United States,” in response to their questions. After a few days, children would come up to me, call me by name, and wish me “best of luck” in the game for the day. Just the same, after every match the children would come out again and congratulate me on a game well played. As I was making goodwill with all of the children, I felt a little like Muhammad Ali before “The Rumble in The Jungle”.

Our first two league play matches weren’t too difficult. I played the first quarter of each game, giving me time to rest my ankle whenever possible. The team captain, Naveen, told me I needed to be ready for Thursday’s match against Kathmandu Engineering College, or KEC as they call it. They were a private college with two “club” players on their team. I found out immediately afterwards that “club” players are professional players in Nepal. They are not paid much to play, but they are the best basketball players in the country. He added that their team was likely to be our only real competition in the tournament.

With one day of rest, I stayed in my dorm room most of the day. I didn’t want to walk on my ankle too much. I looked at the Jordan jersey on my desk and thought about the greatest player of the modern era. I repeated many things to myself as I looked at the jersey, “Jordan became a great player when he included all of his teammates in the game. Jordan never gave half-effort; he always gave 110%. Jordan made every player around him better. Jordan never played half of the court; he was defensive player of the year multiple times. Jordan knew everyone’s role on the team and helped them in playing their role better. Jordan played through sickness and injury, still coming out on top. Jordan wasn’t ejected for loosing his cool during a championship game. Jordan played great team basketball. Jordan played great team basketball. Jordan played great team basketball.”

On Thursday we took to the court against KEC. Of their two club players, one was my height, the other was a little shorter but he was strong. Our team played a defense where the center plays up at the free throw line. This put me in the power forward position, with our other tall player in the small forward position. Due to weight and strength, I was matched against the shorter stronger club player throughout the match. In an incredibly physical game of basketball, we came out decisively on top, winning by over 20 points. The club player I was defending, their main offensive weapon, was held to a disappointingly low score. After the game was over, everyone on our team celebrated the victory they previously weren’t sure was possible. Having secured our number one seed from league play, a few of the players celebrated back in their hometown on the edge of the Kathmandu Valley. All I could think about was the next time we would play KEC, in the tournament finals. After one last easy win in league play, we were ready for the semi-final match, the first of two games in knockout play.

Back at the campus, several of my fellow students heard about our win over KEC. They all congratulated me and asked about the team dynamic. They all wanted to know if it was a one man team, with me being that one man. In every case I gave them the same answer. I told them we had a great team with lots of good players. We had good three point shooters too. I continued by saying that I knew my role on the team and I played my role well. All of the other players played their roles well too. I said that if it was a one man team focused on me, we would not be as successful. I felt good talking about how we played well together as a team. With each student who approached me, I also told them I was confident our team would win the tournament.

Monday was our semi-final match against ACME Engineering College. They had a star player who I wound up guarding for most of the match. The game was closer than expected, with us leading by three or five points most of the time. Unfortunately, during the match I was given a hard foul near the basket and I pulled something in the back of my leg. The foul was a shorter player’s dream like aspiration of blocking my shot. Instead, he crashed into me and I landed awkwardly on my left foot. As I hobbled to the free throw line I realized that I didn’t have an uninjured leg to favor anymore. My right leg still had a sprained ankle and now my left leg had something pulled above the top of my calf. I finished out the game, a fresh injury never hurting as much as a day old injury. In the closing minutes we pulled away to win by twelve. Again, the other team’s scorer was held to a below average performance.

At home in my dorm room I wondered how serious my recent injury was. I decided that the morning would bring the answer and I went to bed. This time I found a sleeping position to accommodate my ribs, my ankle, and my calf. I thought about all the times I heard of professional athletes playing through injuries. I now knew how they felt. Normally, in recreational games, if you get injured you rest until you are healed. In competitive sports there is no delaying a championship match to accommodate your injury schedule. I had a new found respect for the professional athlete who plays through injury. While I was lying in bed, the team manager called to tell me tomorrow was a rest day. Wednesday would be the championship match against KEC. During the day off, I walked a little, jogged a little, and limped through all of it. I would be good enough to play, but I didn’t know how well. It would also be obvious to the opposing team that I was injured. I didn’t want to be the weak link in the chain of our team game. Again, I thought about Michael Jordan. I thought about the old Gatorade ads that had the song “I wanna be like Mike”. Limping around the dorm building, being like Mike seemed a lot less glamorous than everyone made it out to be.

Wednesday afternoon brought our appearance in the tournament finals against KEC. While the other teams were playing for third place, I greeted children and shook their hands. Afterwards, I sat in the shade, thinking that today was the right day to play the best basketball game of my life, injuries or not. I warmed up with my teammates, skipping the stretches that I couldn’t perform in my current state. I practiced jogging a little on the court, only to find that my limp was more pronounced. At tip-off, the other team’s tallest player beat me out for the ball. In the first quarter I had two fouls. Two fouls of my five foul limit were already gone. I played solid defense against the same club player as last match, holding him below his normal scoring level. On one run down the court I slowed down and watched my team pass me on offense. Limping slowly forward I watched a missed shot rebounded by the defender. I only thought about how it should have been my rebound. I resolved to play harder. I couldn’t afford to give up easy plays simply because I wasn’t willing to limp my way faster down the court. The game continued through the second and third quarter, each team trading the lead a few times. At the start of the fourth quarter, we were down by three points. In the break I thought about Michael Jordan and how this was the time for him to come alive.

Taking the court for the final quarter, I put forth all of the effort I thought I had left. We were still down by one when I fouled an opposing player, sending him to the free throw line. Standing alongside the key, the team captain talked with the referee and then subbed me out of the game. I went to the sideline, thinking that I only had four fouls, but somehow I must have fouled out with five. I was disappointed that I had to watch the rest of the game from the bench. I screamed and yelled with the rest of my sidelined teammates as the man I was previously guarding took his free throws. He made the first and missed the second. His teammate got the rebound and they retained possession. Fire shot through my veins as I saw the rebound that should have been mine. Again and again, my blood boiled each time I saw the opposing team get “my rebound”. I cursed my bad fouls and started unconsciously flexing every muscle in my body each time a missed shot posed a potential rebound for whoever would take it. During a timeout, Naveen came to the sideline. I asked him if I had four fouls or five. He motioned for me to come out on the court. I gritted my teeth and said, “You know it,” as I stepped into play.

Walking to the other side of the court, I walked passed our point guard, Silas. He held his hand out for a low-five as I walked by. Lightly tapping his hand, I looked in his eyes and said decisively, “Every board is mine.” I walked passed our two-guard, Lojang, and said to him, “You can do it. Take the shot. Make the shot.” I wouldn’t suggest to him that he would miss, but walking away I knew that if he did miss, I would be there for the rebound. I walked over to my waiting position, a few feet outside of the key. I nodded at our small forward, Sasank, on the other side of the key. My limp had disappeared without me realizing it. Our first possession was a long one. Naveen missed a shot and I crashed the boards with everything I had. I got the rebound and passed it back to Lojang. He made a move off of the dribble and shot a jumper from inside the key. Seeing the off shot, I crashed the boards again, pulling down the rebound and passing out to Naveen. This time he made the shot, a three pointer. Running back for defense, I said to Naveen, “That’s how we win the game.”

We played solid defense throughout the fourth quarter. On offense, Naveen created almost every opportunity, with me there making a play for the rebound any time he missed. Twice I put a shot back up. Every other time I passed the ball back out to reset the offense. With the game tied 41-41 the other team had the ball on a fast break with 15 seconds left. With the other team’s missed shot on the break, Naveen took the final shot from half court, missing by inches. This set up a five minute overtime to decide the tournament champion. During the break, bench players slapped my hand and congratulated me on good play. All I could think about was the next missed shot, the next rebound.

Taking the court again we played the same game we did in the fourth quarter, solid defense and lots of rebounds. On each play fire ran through my veins and I was unaware of any injuries I had. Numerous fouls by players on both sides set up a free throw shooting contest to end the game. With our team up by three I was sent to line for two shots. Naveen came up to me and said that one shot made it a two possession game. The makeshift basket was a backboard of plate steel and a bent steel rod for a rim. It was notoriously unforgiving. I missed both free throws, each one rattling in and then impossibly out. My teammates were unable to get the rebound. After a defensive stand, I was fouled after getting the rebound. Again Naveen told me to make it a two possession game. Again I missed both free throws and my teammates were unable to get the rebound. Another defensive stand led to Naveen being fouled and going to the line. I walked up to him and said, “Make this one Jordan and we go home winners.” He missed the first free throw. It rattled in and out just the same as mine. I walked up to the line and said again, “Make this one Jordan and we go home winners.” Naveen made the shot putting us up 48-44 with twelve seconds left. The other team’s fastest player ran down the court for a quick two points. He missed the shot and we held the ball for the remaining seconds.

As soon as time ran out, the celebration began. Our fans flooded the court as we yelled congratulations at each other. When things calmed down, I told Lojang about the American college tradition of cutting down the net. He told me he had seen it before and he had a pair of scissors with him. We cut down the net together. After he wore the net for a moment, I put it on, wearing it for the rest of the day. Naveen was awarded the MVP of the tournament. He scored 30 of our team’s 48 points. After the celebration had calmed down, the team manager came up and congratulated me. He told me that I had done the best at the end. He knew a Nepali phrase for it but had forgotten the English one to describe it. I told him it was called “coming through in the clutch”. I added that I hadn’t come through in the clutch at the free throw line, but I had done it with defense and rebounds. The only three points KEC scored in overtime were free throw shots made at different trips to the line. Later the small forward, Sasank, told me that I played well at the end of the game. He added that if I had played like that all day, the match would not have been close. I told him what turned things around was being forced to sit on the sidelines for a few minutes and watch the team play without me.

At the end of the day, I did not play like Michael Jordan. But, I did play like another champion. A champion whose off-the-court antics have made many people forget what a great team player he truly was. He won 5 championships with 2 different teams. He was a great role player who knew his role on the team and executed it to perfection. He was an excellent defender and an amazing rebounder. No one played his role better than him. As the NBA website says on his bio, “one of the few players in basketball who can change the course of a game without taking a shot”. At the end of our championship game, I had played the power forward position for all but a few minutes. I had 4 fouls, 5 or 6 points, 2 or 3 blocks, 1 or 2 steals, well over 20 rebounds, probably over 30 rebounds, with at least 10 of those rebounds coming at the end of the game. For our final game on that court, I didn’t play like Michael Jordan, I played like Dennis Rodman, and our team won the championship.

Epilogue

I left the Dennis Rodman persona behind when I walked off the court. I didn’t emulate him in his personal life. I enjoyed the post party by drinking in moderation, my hair is still its natural color, and I have no plans to purchase ladies clothing.