Mexico Trip

I've been thinking about writing this story for many years now. The trip and the basketball I played in Mexico was the highlight of my career and one of the greatest adventures of my life. The team was around the .500 mark in the games prior to the winter break. Coach gave us about four days off before the trip so most of the guys on the team went home and had an early Christmas with their families. Big B and I went home to the ICE and saw and partied with our old friends from high school etc... During the normal age college years it was fun to see everyone roll back into town and see them out at the bars. The IC downtown bar scene seemed deserted each year during winter break except for locals back for the holidays. I have always stuck to the notion that it was good luck to get drunk the night before any important game or event, and the night before leaving back to Dubuque was no exception. I remember being so hung over at the one last practice on the day before we left for Mexico that I was border line sick, but for some reason I was jumping out of the gym at the practice. The moment finally came for us to leave. It was early in the morning and Reecey, White B, Big B, and myself all loaded into Big B's red S10 pickup and headed up the ice and snow covered road to the school. It was still dark, and as I sat crammed in the little truck I felt a strange flame like sensation near the back of my neck. It was Reecey's (aka Morris Vankinscoff's) hot dragon breath seething from his mouth, burning my neck, and stinking up the truck as usual. There were some groggy early morning cracks on Reecey as usual. I hadn't slept hardly a wink that night do to the great anticipation. Once at school we all loaded into a couple of vans and then headed off to Chicago's O'hare airport. A lot of the fellas slept on the van, but not me. I was way to excited. Big B had an interesting story about his last time at O'hare. The last time he was there was with our friend Jonas from the IC when the two of them had come back from Europe. Out of pure curiosity we looked in a certain spot in some bricks for where Big B and Jonas had supposedly stashed a little baggy with some herbal medication, but it wasn't there. Getting into the airport and onto the plane didn't take very long. We boarded an Air Mexicana plane. There was snow coming down and it was cold. It was the first time I had been on a large jet since I was a little kid flying from LA to San Francisco with my mom to visit my aunts in California. The team was spread out on the plane, I sat next to Big B. We lifted off and it seemed like we were out and over the Gulf of Mexico in no time. Some of the guys on the team (like Havatake) were taking advantage of the in flight hospitality service and drinking beers, Heinakin to be precise. The JV were scheduled to play a game against the Mexican Junior National team soon after landing in Mexico City, but before we arrived in Mexico City the air line had to make a stop in Acapulco. We all had to go through customs in Acapulco and board the plane all over again. Their were Mexican girls in black swim suites handing out Heinakins in the Acapulco airport. The temperature was in the 90's F. so the climate adjustment from winter weather and temperatures of the mid-west to the climate near the equator was a factor. Acapulco was a huge city of about two million people that stretched from the coast up over a coastal mountain range and back down the inland side of the mountains. This was all readily seen from the air. We would be heading back to Acapulco for our final four days of our ten day trip. All our games were going to be played in Mexico City. I can't remember landing in Mexico City or anything about the airport or the bus trip into the city. I remember the gym, the court, and the opposition from the game we played soon after arriving in the city. Coach Spock was handling all of the coaching duties for the JV. Our JV team was tough inside but we had no depth at the guard spot. Duke was a bit slow due to the fact that he was coming off a year of rehabbing a broken leg. Cray Murphy was playing varsity only. We were playing in front of a roaring and feisty crowd of about 4000 people in a good sized gym. Once the game started it seemed like I was the only one who could score. With no classes to worry about, no food or meal money to worry about, no worry about missing practices due to science labs, and no worries about getting to class or practice, all I had to think about was playing basketball and enjoying the trip. I felt care free and relatively healthy (except for the lingering hang over) and played the basketball of my life. The ballers on the other team were skilled and athletic. There was one player in particular that stood out amongst the rest. He played a similar position as I did and was about the same height. He had some awesome dunks against us in our game, all of them jumping off of two feet. I was the only reason that our team was able to stay in the game. I'm not bragging, thats just the way it was. I wanted my teammates to get involved and stop playing scared and I even tried setting them up for easy baskets when I had the ball on offense but it wasn't working. The best thing I could do was just take the ball to the hoop and score. There were some interesting differences in the Mexican officiating of the game. We were playing by international rules and the one difference that stood out the most was that when a team shot a free throw people were jumping in the lane way before the ball left the shooters hand. I went in so early one time just to see what the refs would do that I practically gave up on the play because I thought for sure that the refs were going to blow the whistle, but they did not. There was another player on the Mexican team that I clearly remember. He was the most blatant screen setting head hunter I ever played with. When we were on defense they ran a two man pick in the paint for a wing or post player to cross through to the opposite side and the head hunting cat was putting his elbows up and setting moving screens and he was going for our heads or necks every time. It was crazy. The thing was, I was a streetballer, and the no fouls and no rules style of play was what I was used to and it allowed me to excel in all of the games we played in Mexico. Even though I was going on lack of sleep, jet lag, and being hung over, I was hyped to be where I was and to be playing against the best young players in Mexico. We were in the biggest city in the world and it was the largest crowd I ever played in front of. When the second half finally got under way I stole the ball on a pass from the point to the wing and away to the races I went with the other teams two best players hot on my tail. D Rog and Mo used to ask me why I always flared out before shooting a lay up. There were a few reasons for this and they all had to do with the same principle. The biggest reason was that growing up playing on the black top or on concrete and playing on the many outdoor courts located in the ICE it became natural to flare on a layup attempt (as opposed to taking a straight line to the hoop) in order to avoid crashing into the poles that held up the hoops. So flare is what I did on the play during my break away lay up in Mexico City and it allowed the defenders a chance to go for a block as I jumped off of my left foot and went up for the shot attempt. I had no thoughts or preconceived plan of what I was going to do, it all just happened. As the two defenders tried to maul me in the air I stretched up and out, cocked my arm, and then slammed the ball through the basket right in the faces of the opposing players. The refs actually called a foul and I was awarded a free throw attempt on top of the basket. The crowd thundered its approval, and some of the players on my team along with Coach Spock yelled their approval while I calmly acted like nothing special had just happened. We as a team were getting our behinds spanked in the game so that was part of the reason why I didn't feel the need to celebrate the play. I missed the free throw. Lil' Lamb, the varsity starting point guard, was in the door way leading to the locker room waiting for the upcoming varsity game and was about the only varsity player to witness the dunk. It was my only college career dunk in a game and it occurred against the best players I ever played against in all my college years, in front of the biggest crowd, and in the biggest city in the world. I was the only JV player to play in the varsity game and because these games were not going on our official NCAA season record coach had all the varsity play equal minutes and platooned us in and out of the game. The opposition for the varsity was a team that had seven Mexican Natianal team players on it and two Olympic players. They had some real bruisers on the team including a huge black dude with dread locks who looked to be in his late twenties, but their best player was a guard who drilled some thirty foot three pointers on us and threw some super sweet no look full court feeds to his teammates for easy layups. The player on the Mexican team who dunked all over us in the JV game also played on the older team and he had some nice dunks in those games as well. Our team was outmatched and we lost by about 20. I probably led the Varsity in scoring that game and scored about 12 points or more in every varsity game which was enough to lead the Varsity in scoring on the trip. After the game and my dunk all the players were announced in front of the crowd and each player exchanged an article of clothing with an opposing teams player. When my name was announced I stepped out and waved and made the most stupid looking face I ever saw. How do I know it was stupid? Because a photographer came up to me and asked if I wanted to buy a photo of me making the face after the game. I still have the picture but I inked a beard on it to cover the ugly face. I felt a bit embarrassed in the spot light after dunking in the JV game. Some fans asked me to trade hats with them after the game. I was wearing a Charlette Hornets ball cap and exchanged that for a cowboy hat (which I gave to my dad after returning to the states). It is a tradition in Latin America and Europe to eat meals with the opposing teams after a game. The home team extends its hospitality by treating visiting teams to a meal and entertainment. So we went to dinner after the game in a large hall. There were many small tables set around and we were told where to sit. We were divided into two or three players from each team at a table. Havatake was at my table and the two best players off the Mexican junior team, the dunk machine and the headhunter, sat with us. It was Christmas Eve, and in Latin Culture the period between Christmas and New Years each year is a time for everyone to celebrate and get hammered, even for those who otherwise never party ever during the rest of the year. Beer and Tequila were available for free, so G Money and I proceeded to drink several small bottles of Tequila each. I loved the Mexican food and ate everyone else's plate and Big B and myself were the only ones enjoying the food. Once drunk off my ass I started telling stories to the two Mexican players by making hand gestures. I demonstrated the dunks by the one player and the head hunting picking style of the other. They laughed and seemed to enjoy it. At the time I did not know any Spanish except for "Mas cervesa por favor" which once translated means "More beer please." I also learned the phrase "cuantos dineros?" which meant "How many dollars?"

My laptop was out of order for over a month, and during that time I made a huge list of stories to tell about the trip in Mexico, and I looked at some newspaper clippings of stats from my UD games and discovered the proper order for some crucial basketball stories from my time spent in Dubuque. All this and more to come soon.