All I want for my birthday....

We won our first game in the second round of playoffs on Thursday. It’s a best of five series so defending our home court to start off was important.

I’m pretty sure the point guard on the other team hates me. I have about forty pounds on her and for the first half of the season she played for an opposing FIBA cup team in Hungary. We kicked their ass all over the court and she had to guard me as I posted her midget self up. After that she came to a Slovakian team and after our team played like hell for 39 minutes, I hit a forty-foot shot to win by 1. But then things got complicated and we lost at their place a few weeks ago. And that is when things got personal.

We played horrendous defense in that game, every ball screen was followed by a ball reversal and a made shot. We somehow couldn’t figure out how to help the helper and proceeded to get lit up on every play. It was frustrating to say the least.

Now that we are in playoffs, the stakes are a bit higher. Our team management told us in no uncertain terms that if we didn’t’ advance to the finals, the whole season would be considered a disappointment. I had to agree.

And so we won. We killed them. I absolutely decided we were going to win, had 12 points in the first quarter and then let my teammates do some of the work. It was wonderful.

After the game I signed some autographs, got some hugs and proceeded to gather my things when my teammate ran over to me with a blindfold. I had no idea what she was doing, blindfolding me and walking me across the court but I nervously went along with it. Soon, I’m standing in front of 15 young kids, singing me happy birthday with a cake and candles, presents and parents taking pictures. One of the girls was crying and hugging me. It was unbelievable, totally unexpected and totally sweet.

Back in the locker room, we devoured the cake and chocolate, showered quickly and headed up to our VIP room where 20 young kids were waiting for us.

Back in December we attended a Christmas concert where our sponsor gave out charity money to the kid’s house in town. The money would be used to send the kids to summer camp so the kids were in the stands excited to be honored. Some of them ran up to us, waving, giggling, and wanting autographs.

I hadn’t known there was a kid’s house in town but after that night, I insisted that a few of us go visit before the big holiday. So in a rather last minute effort, we made it to the kids house the morning of my flight home, touring the facility, passing out chocolate and ornaments, and watching the kids in impromptu performances. Some of them were really shy and you could tell life had given them more problems than they deserved; others seemed to be flourishing. The den mothers seemed like angels on earth, loving and taking care of all these children like their own. Not many of them spoke English but I passed out Christmas hugs, each time hoping that a little love, a little strength got passed through. It was a wonderful day.

After Christmas of course, I got back to me, me, me. I hate when that happens. I got busy with basketball, thought about myself more than is healthy, and generally perserverated on the good and bad of my comparatively perfect little life. But in the back of my mind, I wanted to do something for the kids again. And so we planned a game where they would be VIP guests. That day was last week.

I made my way up to our VIP area and walked into a room filled with smiling children. They all ran up to me with arms open as we took individual pictures, signed some autographs, ate some pizza, and fumbled through mixed languages. They were so excited to be a part of our day; they loved watching the game, and had the energy that comes from a very important occasion. I think they felt special.

I was heavy with happiness. Seeing these kids with some outlet, some relief from a life of hardship made me feel warm all over. I don’t feel a duty to them because I am an athlete and a role model; I feel a duty because in the grand lottery of life, I was blessed with parents to love me. The two people that were supposed to care for me did. Simple as that.

And yet, I know as a basketball player I have a platform to show these kids some strength within them. By dedicating myself to something worthwhile, maybe they’ll see an example to follow. Most likely, not one of them will choose basketball or even sport but I hope that they can learn something by watching my team battle on the court. Lord knows they have their own, more important battles to face.

Next week I am planning on playing basketball with them and I’m probably more excited than they are.

Afterwards, a few of us walked to our favorite Italian restaurant to relax and eat after the game. I was feeling great, mentally tired but physically felt awesome. Then I remembered I had only played 20 minutes instead of 40. What a difference that makes.

We ran into some of the kids from the kid’s home on our way to the center. They ran up to me, tackling me and laughing. The whole walk they rambled on and on, obviously filled with excitement from the big night. We took pictures along the way, walking arm and arm with the cute little ones.

They kept talking about seeing me on television. The Ruza reporters did a ‘day in the life’ of an American basketball player.This is a small town and it’s been quite the topic of conversation. Most of this comes from the fact that the local television channel replays the same program over and over again for the whole week. Friends kept telling me they saw my documentary eight times, at least.

The documentary inciuded fun things like having them come to my apartment at 8 in the morning. Puffy faced and stuffed up, I answered questions as they watched me make coffee and pour cereal. I’m sure it was fascinating. I finally saw it on television towards the end of the week. They actually did a good job but since it is dubbed over in Slovakian, I can only go on memory on what we are talking about. I do know that they asked me about dating; I told them there are a lot of 19, 20-year-old guys in this town. My teammate gets interviewed and says that when we go out, I always get hit on by 40 year olds. Everyone thought this was hilarious.

My actual birthday came and went without much fanfare. I did get flowers from all the men in my life: my coach, my trainer, and my manager. So now my apartment is filled with beautiful smelly roses. And I got lots of chocolate. Unfortunately, despite my birthday falling on the coveted Saturday, I was home by six and asleep by 10.

We played the next day and I told my manager all I wanted was a win. ‘That’s the only present I want. And its free!’ I said. But then quickly reminding him that it’s actually not free for him. Not even close to free.

We won the game. It was a lot closer than the last one and we struggled a bit until we pulled away midway through the fourth quarter. Now we get them at home on Thursday. It might be a difficult game since everyone is planning on us winning, as if we’ve already done it. In fact, if we win, we have four free days. So hopefully, I’ll have time to play with the kids, watch a little soccer, and relax in Ruza before the finals start next week. Time sure is flying fast….