Russia (#16) The Virtue of Hustle

April 9, 2004 (Day 7)

     I'm usually pretty good at paying attention, especially looking and listening. I have had to learn when and how to ask questions since my natural tendency is to try to figure things out first. Figuring things out may be both a "guy thing" and an American thing, but I would like to think it is more than that. I remain hopeful that that the happiness I feel in "discovery" plays a part.

    That said, it is sobering to realize after a week "in country" that the lessons I needed to learn are still ground level basic. There are many parts to the business of lifelong learning for which paying attention and awareness are crucial. On that score, I note that our "American" breakfast on Day 7 included the usual -- yogurt, twinky-shaped donuts with nuts at one end, sausages in round pasta, scalding coffee -- and a treat -- pears! All in all, a good start.

    Our morning ministry was a visit to a school near the ministry center, less than 100 yards in fact.

The gym was a box-like room with a colorful floor. School children came in and sat on short benches along the wall, with their feet toeing the out-of-bounds lines. We didn't know beforehand that we would be playing a game; but there was a team on site, ready to play, so the boys played a spirited game. Every so often, as classes were changing, the seated group of children filed out and another group made their way in.

After the game, players from both teams put on various ball handling demonstrations and teamwork drills.

        Over the course of our time at that school, a dozen or more small boys came up to me a few at a time and asked for an autograph. I was told that it signified respect for authority. So this really had nothing to do with my current skill level, I get that. I signed "For my Russian friend" above my signature. Although it seemed unlikely they knew any more English than I knew Russian, they seemed delighted.

    After lunch at the ministry center we boarded a bus to the Electropribor, the electronics factory where we had played the day before. A quick internet search will reveal that "electronics" actually means military technology and navigation systems, so there was considerable government investment in that facility. 

     We were expected to play two games but again played just one when competition for the boys' team did not show. Skip tried to play each father-son combination for several stretches, reviving my flagging sense that running the floor (my primary contribution) was worth the effort. I must add that Stefan played well in all his games while I, as in the photo below, had to be satisfied motoring up and down the floor.

    No photograph of Stefan and me playing together seems to exist, so the father and son portrait in front of the Olympic bear will have to stand in for an action shot. Also, of no small note, the best action shot of me in any of our games is of my textbook free-throw form shown here. 

    Do not be fooled, by the way, by the pot-belly on the player nearest the camera. He knew exactly how to use his size and weight for maximum effectiveness.

    This was a different team than we had played previously, but they too had played together for decades and had been champions of some city or regional leagues years before. We saw photographs from those days in the corridor after the game.

    After the game we ate a chicken and rice dinner with the Russian team. I sat at a table with a man who looked like Boris Yeltsen. He had brought his wife. When the food was served, he and his wife got up and left without a word. Just as our dinner party was breaking up, he returned with a bag of chocolate bars made by the company of another man on the Russian team. He gave the bag of chocolate bars to me as a gift to share later with our team.

   

    After dinner we got back on the trolly-bus for a ride back to the mission center. Waiting for us was one of the players from our game the previous day. He was one that we could tell had been angry at us for something during the game although no one knew exactly what. He may have been a little embarrassed to see us as we trooped in. We all shook his hand and said our little Russian phrases to let him know we were happy to see him again. Whatever burden he was carrying from the game was not one we remembered or held.

    It had been a full day, but for a few of us it was not over. We had a promise, made on our early trip to the home church, that we needed to keep. So, after changing into better clothes, those of us who had gone to that church were heading out again.