Culture

The Bench

Friday night after practise, we had a team outing. We went to one of the girl’s houses and gathered in her kitchen, eating burgers and chips, while watching Show Match. I would have preferred anything else, but it seemed that pretty much everyone was interested in gossiping about the outcomes of certain dancers.

Once beer and wine were freely circulating in everyone’s blood streams, conversation began to get even more ridiculous and at one point I heard my name from across the table.

I looked over and for some reason everyone went silent:

“So in Canada…”

“Yes?”

I was waiting for some monumental question about culture or food or government. Instead, I got this:

“How do you say penis?”

My teammates recognize my extranjera ways, but I am more of a strange creature off the court than on it. Basketball is our common language. I remember an old trainer I had said that the basketball gods rein down the same laws for everyone. But whenever we have these team outings off the court, it is like we get to know each other in a different light.

On another occasion (a birthday party) a sing-a-song battle game got started up. I hadn’t been familiar with this game until that moment: two teams take turns singing a few lines of any song to each other. When one team finishes, the other team has to start up a new song using the last letter sound that was sung. It can be difficult with certain letters, but overall it was fun. Fun for me to watch and listen because the only songs I know in Spanish by heart are the two my mom used to sing to me as a baby. After that, my mind goes fuzzy. One girl kept nudging me, “Common, you must know some song.” Nothing important came to mind and it was one of those moments where the cultural gap became so obvious.

These things don’t happen usually on the court. Only occasionally I see emotional behaviour that I wonder would happen in other countries. Like my coach kicking the ball out of anger so that it hits the ceiling of the court. Or one of my teammates getting so upset that she takes off her jersey and goes and cries in a corner. We aren’t exactly playing for the top position and I’m confused about the purpose behind so much emotion. I recognize it as something Argentine, especially when it comes to sports, and I just accept it.

Apart from all the emotion, only recently have we been working together as a team and enjoying it.

On Saturday, we had a good home game against Quilmes. We were actually playing like a team: passing the ball, making direct layups for the hoop and picking up fouls in the process. In the final quarter, coach was sitting down on the other end of the bench and yelled across seven other players to me: “Cinthia!”

I stood up, whipped off my t-shirt, leaving only my jersey and walked down to the score table, passing the bench. I received hand touches, pats on the butt and back.

I don’t know how long I was on the court for. It must have been almost ten minutes (the longest I’ve ever been on a game for) and heaven. I still think a part of me is quite nervous while in real games; it is a completely different energy than practise and I’m not as calm as I’d want to be. However, I went for the ball, passed alright, and occupied the places where I should more or less be in. I loved every second of it and when it was all over, I couldn’t help but walk back to the bench with a huge grin on my face.

Even though we had lost the game, I received positive pats and smiles. On the way out, I accidentally hugged my coach out of pure joy. I think this is a culture similarity that I can agree on expressing.

Perspective from other bench.

Sorries

Domingo de futbol.

This post is dedicated to Jen, a super star soccer player and my new athlete mentor.

For the last couple of weeks I’ve been getting together with a group of girls to play something different than basketball: soccer. Or futbol, here in Buenos Aires. On Monday nights, we’ve been going to an all-soccer club, with two synthetic grass canchas (courts) for 5-on-5 soccer. The freshness of learning something new has raised my spirits, not to mention being in a new mix of girls, all from different parts of the world.

While playing with these women, I noticed how often I said “I’m sorry.” Every time I bumped or stepped on someone these words automatically came out of my mouth. I tried to become conscious of this need to apologize in the presence of physical contact and realize that this is how I’ve been conditioned inside of society. And I wasn’t the only one doing it; many of the girls seemed unfamiliar with dealing with physical contact inside of sports.

In comparison, men’s sports already have a whole array of internal codes when dealing with physical contact. Watching guys play fascinates me at times because it seems second nature for them to bump, fall, dive, and die for the ball. I thought about how most women have come from generations of quiet delicateness but now is our time to break out of this and catch up with men in the world of sports.

Another thought: the difference between power and precision. When playing sports, you can be powerful and ineffective. I’ve seen large men play horrible basketball because they have no tactics, no strategy and no precision. I’m learning that part of being a successful athlete is learning to measure my strength, not just exhibit its limit.

Both these realizations gave me new insight into my own basketball team, as well as the origin of the inner mental blocks I’ve been feeling lately.

Yesterday, after an hour of soccer, I proudly proclaimed to a round table of athletic women and beer: “When we play 7-7 on an large authentic grass court, I will do a tackle dive and end up with huge bruise on my side!”

Laughter went up and I felt complete.

Go Tess!

Heart Break

Gracias Oso por la foto.

It is Friday night and my cellphone starts bleeping: Leave for practise.

I dis-activate the alarm and continue to do the housework that I had been busying myself with. One of my cats gazes at me from the edge of the bed.

I’ve made up my mind that I’m not going tonight, but there are many thoughts in my head and heavy emotions around my heart.

Things have been inconsistent recently with my basketball team. During practise and games, I’ve heard many verbal complaints about particular players within the team or the coach’s way of making decisions. The truth is the whole team has turned into a gigantic gossiping monster.

“I’m not sure what happened;” I sighed to an old basketball friend that I had played with at El Talar. We were having dinner in her apartment late one Friday night.

“Teams don’t like to lose,” she replied.

“But I don’t mind losing,” I retorted. “I think you can play an amazing game and lose.”

“Yes,” she nodded. “You and I take think of losing that way. Most people don’t.”

Our losing streak has become quite consistent and is in direct proportion to the amount of negativity present during practise. And although I hear many doubts about the coach’s decisions, it has become obvious to me that the internal motivation within the team is quite weak.

At last Friday’s practise, I arrived to a team where the majority preferred to sit and watch Argentina play against Puerto Rico ( the Pre-Olympic Tournament going on in Mar del Plata) than to use the available court for an hour. Our coach was on his way to Mar del Plata to watch the Saturday game and our assistant coach was leading the practise. My anxiety became obvious to the A.C. Even though I was one of the few who wanted to play, he went upstairs with me to free out some balls.

I shot by myself for fifteen minutes and I could feel my anger rising. We actually HAVE the main gym and they prefer to sit and watch the game! Haven’t they heard of programmed t.v. timers?

After a while, one of the girls came up and starting shooting on the other end. Five minutes later, the rest of the team came up. My anger cooled but it became apparent how different my teammates perceived practise than me.

Basketball is a team sport and each team has its own unique intensity. This is made up from all the different players but the most important factor is the coach. And if you don’t like the style of the team, it is easy: you leave. It is the coach’s job to bring the team together, to inspire the players. It is also his/her job to teach the players how to play together, not separately. And it is in this, where something has failed, because it doesn’t exist in our team. I don’t feel that when I step on the court with these girls. And my next question is: is this something that can be worked on? Or is it just present or absent?

“This isn’t a team,” one of the all-star wing players (playing 3) calmly explained to me one night after practise, when we were both walking to Rivadavia for a bus. “I’ve been on teams. I’ve felt that comradeship. But here the coach does whatever he wants and then, well, there is chaos.”

I remained quiet because I had no experience to pair up with hers relating to harmonious teams. Most of my team experiences from high school up till now have never been amazing.

My sadness over the last couple of weeks with this team has been an obvious indicator at how seriously I take everything. I’m trying to understand what to do with that seriousness and if this team is on the same wavelength as me.

Silent Activism

Old basketball shoes to go running in..

Tonight I met up with one of my teammates to go running in the Parque Avellaneda. We met up at her house, a couple blocks away from the club.

“Could you wait a sec, Cin? I haven’t eaten anything since lunch time and I need to get something in my belly before doing exercise.”

I agreed and pet the most loving of her three dogs as he put his head on my lap.

“I’m on a diet..,” she started as she broke three eggs, stirring them into a bowl, and added chunks of fresh cheese.

“What kind of diet,” I asked, trying to sound curious, even though I dislike the word ‘diet’.

“Protein diet,” she stated.

“Why?”

“Wanna lose a couple extra pounds. I’m slightly above my normal weight.”

She put the bowl in the microwave and cooked her egg soup for a couple minutes. I watched her eat it and we talked about our last game, our coach, and the team in general.

This girl is a good basketball player and I respect her in many ways. However, I noticed that many young women feel the need to take on these weird diets and be obsessive about weight. Not overall general health. Just weight and image.

We headed out for the run. It had been awhile since I’d gone just running and it was amazing. We started with a walk, then a light jog, then went into a full run. I loved feeling the power of my body; my muscles, my feet hitting the ground lightly, the overall rhythm of the movement. My breath was starting to get rough, the cold air entered my warm lungs, and my heart beat became strong in my chest. We did 15 minutes of good running and I took off my outer jacket as my inner layers becoming moist. We slowed down and she sighed:

“Isn’t that feeling great? Just feeling ..ventilated?”

I nodded in agreement and enjoyed our silence after that.

We did a couple more laps of walking and then we stretched. I watched the other runners around the track: all men.

On the walk back to her house, I mentioned my ideal plans after this: shower and bed. She voiced hers: electric vibrator on her tummy and some reading.

She patted her stomach and her thighs.

“Mostly to get rid of this side bulge.”

I didn’t comment.

Walking alone to the bus stop, I wondered if I should have commented. If I should have pried further into these comments which were said in such a casual way, but that I know deep down ring off warning bells.

I reminded myself that a couple weeks ago I did decide to voice my body image passion to a close friend and it just turned into disaster. My thoughts and ideas over weight obsession only come out with anger and resent. This doesn’t reach out to others and instead it seems to distance them.

So, for now, I have decided that silence is better. Until I learn how to verbally express my ideas about body image in a more positive way, they will stay in my head or through my writing. Isn’t it smart to pick your battles?

Another Game

America del Sud vs. Claridad via my cellphone

I’m thinking seriously about not going to today’s game.

My grandmother’s reaction to this text message was:

Is there something wrong with you? Are you sick?

No, there was nothing wrong with me, except I really didn’t feel like trudging one hour out in car on a Friday night to some random club to not step onto the court. This week I haven’t been to practise because of persistent virus that I’ve been dragging around. I needed a bit of rest and that is what I also feel like doing tonight.

But… I know that duty calls.

Being on a team isn’t just about your playing on the court, but about the other four players on the court with you, not to mention the several others on the bench. But I know it wasn’t the prospect of not playing that bugged me so much. I couldn’t run away from the fact that I was starting to feel this team as a chore and when things I choose to do in my spare time become chore like, I start to rethink my intention. Is this what I had in mind in February of last year when I started with America del Sud? Or had I visualized more glory?

Maybe it is all the losses, but even that doesn’t convince my gloom. There was something else at the root of this sensation. I could find out what it was by going to the game. And, so I went.

We arrived early to Claridad, which is strange for us. However, a well warmed up team didn’t prevent our loss. Coach put me in for the last four minutes of game, which surprised me. Although I was happy that I did get to play, I didn’t enjoy returning to a depressed bench. We seem to have really hit some sort of rut and no one can get us out of it but ourselves.

In the car ride home, there were many negative comments made about what was wrong with the team. What the coach did wrong, what other players did wrong, and why the whole team was ineffective. But no one mentioned what we could do to improve. They were just pointing out all the negative points. What could be done to bring us together as a team?

I think the most frustrating part is even I don’t know what could unite us into the amazing team we are meant to be. Not just to win, but to feel like a team.

Team Crisis

The last couple of weeks have been a downward battle for my team. Certain inconsistencies have brought the team’s overall seriousness and legitimacy to a serious low. I also have been witnessing how the politics within a team can demotivate and tear the team’s morale inside out. Our game last night to Munro was the perfect example.

“We aren’t defending,” our coach said, “We have to turn up our concentration and intensity. Instead, what do you we do? We whine about how the refs are making horrible calls.”

It was true; the referees in woman’s basketball are horrible and they weren’t helping the situation. Still, this is something all players must learn to get over quickly within a game. We were using it as an excuse.

Our shots weren’t going in. The rim seemed untouchable during most of the game but in the 3rd quarter we reached a ten point gap behind our opponent.

Faith

One of my lone travels to Pueyrredon (before team dedications).

This past week I’ve been really questioning my belief in basketball. Or rather, my faith toward this sport that has changed my life in so many ways. From the beginning, I threw myself into a very slow learning process full of frustrations and challenges. Only recently have been able to order my priorities and realize that basketball is not at that top. That doesn’t make it less important, but less relevant in some ways. However, I maintain the belief that silence is just as important as the sound in music.

Despite all my struggles,the fact that it hasn’t been easy has brought me and basketball closer together. Like any intimate relationship, the deeper you get, the stickier and more interesting things get.

Even if I feel lost, I will continue going to practise. Even if I’m feeling particularly discouraged, I will put on my shorts and sports bra and get my butt out of the house and on a bus. I will focus during practise and just do my best. This sport is my religion, even if I don’t practise it everyday.

Uncommunicated Desires

The infamous papers..

For the last month I have been asking my coach to bring me the papers to fill out and get my basketball federation license. On Monday, he still hadn’t brought them to me. This dragged out event has created a bit of a disconnect between us.

The worst were rumours circulating that maybe he didn’t want me on the team.

“Last week he told us that he had given the papers to you,” whispered one of my teammates while we were warming up. The suspicion of a lie stung me and I felt unwanted. I’ve been going to practise and to games, but I’ve been struggling a bit to integrate myself into the team. Nonetheless, focusing on my progress and the energy of the challenge has been motivating. Many of the girls have inspired me in new ways and I look to them more than to my coach. But it seems that there hasn’t been enough positive energy recently to feed my encouragement.

My frustration and anger turned into tears in the locker room. The humidity because of the showers was comforting, but I felt like a fool. Doubts filled my mind and I felt fear.

It seemed I was struggling with communicating to my coach the passion I have to play basketball on this team. After letting out my angst with various people, I knew that I had to face (what I imagined would be) an awkward conversation with my coach. I had to just tell him what I wanted. That I wanted to play. I wanted to feel valued as a player. I needed hear this from him. If not, I had two options: 1) stay as a permanent bench player or 2) find another team. But I realized that letting the lethal combination of my sensitivity and over thinking turn into a powerful negative potion of emotions was not the answer. It wasn’t going to get me any closer to clarity.

Today, Friday, I had been thinking all day about what I would say to my coach. I was getting mentally prepared for what he would say to me as well but when I got to practise I was saved the hassle: before I could even say hello he dug a hand into his knapsack and said: “Before I forget…” He pulled out four papers and handed them to me.

“These are for the federation. Bring them tomorrow.” He met my gaze a moment longer than normal and I didn’t say a word.

“Okay, now hurry, HURRY! You have four minutes to warm up!”

This team is teaching me not to assume other’s intentions taken from external perceptions and turned into internal opinions. They are teaching me to believe in myself first before expecting others to do so. I’m learning how to speak up and show myself, which is more difficult than it seems.

In two weeks, I will have my Asociacion Femenino Metropolitana de Basquetbol credentials.

Coach

Home game.

Fer's free throw.

I’ve been trying to build some sort of relationship with my coach at America del Sud. It has been an interesting task, although at times more challenging than I imagined. I’m learning how to handle his anger and outburst of yelling, which is a first time thing for me. I guess we are still getting to know each other and are testing each other’s boundaries.

“Coach?”

“Yes?”

“What I did just there…the block? Was that okay?”

Pause. “Yes! If you don’t hear from me, you’ve done something well. It is when you screw up… that is when you will hear about it.”

We’ve lost the last couple of games and at our last loss to Quilmes he slammed down his clipboard and yelled out many things. I suppose yelling could be motivational to some, but not all can take it that way. In my case, not taking it personally is my goal. Instead, I try to use it as a way to acknowledge errors and move on.

From day 1, I’ve recognized that a coach’s ability to motivate and inspire its players is key. There are many things my coach has said that have stayed with me:

“There shouldn’t be any greys in our actions. When we do things, we do them with confidence and without the fear of making mistakes. If we make a mistake, we do it with confidence. But if we play in the greys, we will not learn anything and get nowhere.”

And..

“We are all on the same level here. Some players are one step above, others are one step below, but not one player on this team stands out. So, we have to learn to work together.”

I’m currently not playing in games, but from the bench I cheer encouragement and yell for defense. But no one will ever yell like my coach does.

Role Model

This post is dedicated to my friend C. Nothing more needs to be said.

Men's soccer tournament in Pilar.

Headbutt.

We all look for people in our life to lead us. Sometimes we catch just a glimpse of someone and it sparks something inside that isn’t easy to forget. When a player’s movements on the court makes me smile, I begin to observe that person more closely, to see how they make their magic.

Currently, there are two players on my team at America del Sud that really amaze me. Through their game, they teach me the simplicity of basketball.

At our last win against Harrod’s, one of the teammates I watch closely made a mistake: she got confused with the starting direction of the tip off and began running in the wrong direction. Despite this slightly embarrassing mistake, she continued playing and didn’t allow this false start to hinder her performance. I struggle with letting go of mistakes on the court and greatly respect her for this move. Near the end of the game, this same team member did something else I’d never seen before: standing at the 3-point line, facing our net and with just few seconds left on the clock, she turned her whole upper torso around to look at the big clock on the other wall. I’d never seen a player actually hold the ball and turn away from the game.

“It is the point guard’s job to keep track of the time,” Oso commented later on. But in my mind I was impacted by the calmness that player held on the court. It reminded me of something that I heard during the World Cup about the Argentine soccer player Javier Pastore: “He plays like he’s in his own backyard.”

I think that state of relaxation is admirable and only enhances your ability to think clearly and play effectively on the court.

As a team, I think we are still getting to know each other and are learning to read our court movements. I am just beginning to see each of my teammates’ own unique style of playing that defines their basketball. I love one of the girl’s windmill like layup or another’s fantastically accurate 3-point shot.

Off the court, I have found another type of role model; the type that sternly pep talks you at 11pm on a Monday night when you are feeling down and lost: “Don’t let other people drop opinions on your dreams!”

Rising above expectations put on by others and yourself is difficult. But through others’ example, I’ve learnt to ignore discouraging energy and focus on my own intention for the game.

Scampering Diego.