SINGAPORE “”mdash; You know in “Rocky IV” when Rocky
fights the ridiculously over-the-top Russian villain in Moscow?
First, the crowd practically burns the stars and stripes in the
stands. But then, Rocky’s heart wins them over, and by the
end they sappily chant “USA, USA.” Well, that’s
kind of, almost, well actually a really big stretch from the
situation when our powerful U.S. team touched gloves with a team
from China in the All-PGP dorm basketball tournament.
I am currently studying abroad in Singapore for the (fall
quarter) semester, experiencing a part of the world I still
can’t find on the map. I am one of a massive 46-person
invasion of UC students (15 are from UCLA) who have been marooned
on this island a fifth the size of Rhode Island.
In typical U.S. imperialist fashion, we claimed the dorm’s
basketball courts as a U.S. colony right when we arrived.
So, upon hearing about the tournament, we joked about the
audacity of bothering to hold it to decide who was king. Come on,
we Americans invented basketball!
To make a long story short, we reached the tournament finals,
the prizefight if you will: Capitalism takes on communism.
Only Ivan Drago had morphed into seven scrawnier Mao Zedongs.
The Chinese team was the defending champion, and we recognized
their legitimacy. But they didn’t have to play Americans last
year.
They destroyed us in the first quarter. We just couldn’t
make up for the minor fact that they knew how to play. Meanwhile,
throughout the first half, the crowd had been accumulating. Word of
mouth had spread through PGP of the game’s intensity. By
halftime, there were at least 150 onlookers, drawn by the hope of
witnessing the cocky Americans getting beaten at their own
game.
We weren’t dispelling any notions either. Throughout the
game, we launched a verbal onslaught at the meekest, most timid
refs ever, yelling a variety of obscenities only us Americans can
so creatively concoct. We also punctuated a few of our baskets by
taunting the very biased crowd, once even with the classic
slash-to-the-throat. Through this, the Chinese players remained
quiet.
The game itself looked like it should have been held in a ring.
Players fell to the ground every possession, there were heated
shoving matches, and so many elbows were thrown it felt like a
Ludacris concert.
After halftime, our team’s aggressiveness started taking
its toll on the Chinese. We led by two heading into the fourth
quarter.
In the game’s final minutes, each Chinese basket was
followed by a roar from the crowd. Each of ours was followed by our
meager yelps, as the other 95 percent of the crowd drowned us in
silence.
With sixteen seconds left, we had the ball, down by two. We
inbounded, swung the ball around wildly probing for a shot. The
Chinese had us on the mat, as the crowd chanted, “Five, four,
three…” when John (from UCLA, naturally) found himself open
at the free-throw line, and found nothing but net. Uncle
Sam’s army ran onto the court and celebrated the thwarting of
the evil communists.
Of course, they destroyed us in overtime. The score ended up
81-72. The masses went home happy.
Just like Rocky, we had entered enemy territory to take on a
local champion amid unfavorable circumstances. However, unlike
Rocky, we failed to win the crowd over with our bravery and
gallantry. The U.S. image had taken another shot.
After the game, one of our players approached a lingering
opponent. The opponent began backing away with an alarmed look at
this imposing 6-foot-2-inch white guy who had, just 10 minutes
earlier, appeared as if he would eat him to win.
The American assured him he meant no ill will, profusely
apologized for his disrespectful display, and left him bewildered
with a hug.
Maybe we’re not so bad after all.
Peters is still in Singapore. E-mail him at
bpeters@media.ucla.edu.