While getting into the tip top fighting shape that all of us Army personnel are supposed to stay in, I was down in our 'Junk House Gym' working out. As I finished my weight lifting and core workout, I picked up the proverbial 'rock' and started to shoot the basketball around. The Junk House Gym Basketball court is in our vehicle maintenance bay on the bottom floor. As I shot the ball around, the Iraqi prisoners who are locked up down there were out of there cell on a smoke or food break.
The ball rolls off the rim, and uncomfortably ends up at the feet of three of the convicts who are standing at the edge of, or seemingly the edge of our impromptu court. So now I have a two on two, maybe. This country, I'm not sure has ever seen basketball, and so awkwardly I'm trying to coach these jailbirds on how to shoot a basketball. The language barrier is hard enough, considering I can say about three words in arabic, and they can say the same three words in english. I can tell soccer has definitely been the influence. These men are wearing Chelsea or United Adidas or Nike apparel, and I'm guessing it's not the jail clothes they've been issued, but then I think they probably haven't been issued jump suits, but then I further think that perhaps the National Police hand out Futbol team apparel for inmate clothing.
None the less, these three individuals are shooting the ball much like you would throw a ball in from out of bounds in a soccer match. The ball gripped evenly with both hands, started with the elbows bent and ball nearly resting against the base of the neck and spine. They launch it, and of course they're seemingly uncoordinated and don't judge distance very well.
I keep calling them names like Jordan, Kobe and Bird. Kareem Abdul Jabaar, which they try and explain is their cousin. The names fall on the deftly, but they seeing my new white sneakers, are calling me Michael Jackson. I tell them he's dead by saying his name, and running my finger across the throat. They seemed very upset and unbelieving, but eventually I convinced them, after that the mood was solace.
After about twenty minutes of dealing with Mohammed, Ferras, and Steve, only one of them really grasps the concept, and I'm somewhat happy when the warden ushers them back into their cell. I finally get some US counterparts and we pick up a game of twenty-one, I win handily, and since I am not very good at basketball, I guess I should thank the Haji's for the practice.
don't ever get in an argument with an idiot, because they will bring you down to there level and beat you with experience
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