FSN Sports Day

I’ve written how I’m starting to recognize the rhythm of time here (yes, the bats are gone so the rainy season is soon to come), but there are other rhythms than that of nature.  Budget and planning cycles are controlling my time (more about that in a post to come) and events related to work.  Yes, we have periodic events.  Planning has started for the 4th of July, a holiday despised by most embassy-affiliated Americans because it’s a work day for us.  Well, I say us, but one of the fortunate things about being a PSC is that I’m not expected to volunteer to stand out in the sun in a suit to welcome guests to the embassy, or stand around serving wine, or . . . and last year I was expressly told (among many others due to size limitations), that my “services were not needed.”  So about a year ago you may recall that we had our FSN (Foreign Service National - our Liberian Staff) Sports Day.  Last weekend it was that time of year again!

This year I was smarter than last.  I tried to get out and practice at least a bit before the big event (but nowhere near actually getting in shape - though I should sure do to lose 30 to 50 pounds).  Anyway, for the past several months I’ve been playing volleyball on Sunday mornings with a group of colleagues.  And while I still may only have a 3” vertical leap (it’s the sand I tell you!  it gives every time you try to jump!), the practice helped a lot and all of us are getting to the point where we sometimes look like we know what we’re doing.  A couple of weekends ago we even were able to play 2-2 and make it look good (though, 5-5 or 6-6 is a lot easier!).  I also bought a soccer ball about a month ago (in grand Liberian tradition - from a guy carrying about 20 balls walking along the street trying to sell them - most of them cheap plastic balls, but one good Puma and one good Adidas ball - “How much?”  “$25.00”  “How much for the small leather one?”  “$6.00.”  “I’ll give you $20 for both.” “$30!”  “Man, come on, $25?”  “Ok.”).  So lately a few times a week I’ve been kicking a ball against the tennis wall on the old embassy compound.  The first couple of times my feet and ankles were sore, but as time went on my body got conditioned and I started kicking the ball harder and harder.  I even practiced penalty kicks just in case . . . .

So game day comes!  This year I was on the red team (they traded me without even paying me a transfer fee!) and there was a full line-up of events.  Again, we were at the American School in the Sinkor part of Monrovia.  First off was volleyball - 6 a side, a smaller court than what we’d played on at the old embassy compound.  Most of all, it was packed dirt and grass.  Guess what - I wasn’t just making excuses, I actually do have a 4” vertical leap!  The red team had enough for 2 teams so, since we were playing the best 2 out of 3 we decided to count off and play one game each.  My team 1 played well and won the first game with a lot of real team-work (impressive, then again, 4 of us had been playing together on Sundays.)  The second game wasn’t so great.  Once the Blue team figured out what to do - serve it hard to the one person who can’t be substituted (at an embassy that would be the Ambassador) and who hadn’t warmed up, well, they got a lot of points quickly.  For game three we mixed it up, with a couple of us around the Ambassador to cover the serve if Blue tried that approach again.  Game 3 was close, we were rotating, and I took my turn out.  I thought my game was over until the guys called me back in - the Ambassador did a rotation in and she was at the net facing . . . three tall guys and I was told to try and give her some protection.  Dan the bouncer . . . sure.  Well, we lost that point by . . . having the tall guys spike it down on the Ambassador.  I guess I had a job to do so . . .  next thing I know I have a 5” vertical leap and I block a ball.  Then another.  Then a spike.  First from the left, then in the center and then on the right.  4 blocks and three spikes later, we won!  Of course, with the Ambassador serving the winning point!  (Would that be called sucking up to the Ambassador?)

Well, I guess you probably want to see some photos of the event so . . .  Next up was basketball.

Unfortunately, the Blue team won this one.  If you can’t tell from the photo, it’s because they had two giants who go by the name of Karl (the Deputy Chief of Mission [i.e.  Deputy Ambassador]) and Sam from USAID (the guy with the ball.  We lost track of how many shots those two blocked, but the small guys eventually stopped driving into the basket when those two were under it.  

The basketball game did have other intriguing stories that folks on the sidelines followed.  Like a wife and husband playing on different teams.  Don’t tell Michael, but Sosse is a better dribbler than he is.

In the end, we only lost by 3 points, and it wasn’t decided until the last couple of minutes of the game.  Not a bad score with them having a distinct height advantage.  Red 1 - Blue 1.

Of course it wasn’t all hard playing games.  There was food, music and . . . again, this is Liberia . . . singing and dancing.

And yes, they tried to pull me out there and no, I did not dance!

The activities began again with the all important sack race.

I figured this was a better photo to show you than the finish line shot (we killed them!) because you can see more of the facility.  Red 2 - Blue 1.

That was quickly followed by the lime race.  In the US we use eggs, in Liberia, it’s limes.  Why use eggs when, even if a lime falls you can still use it in your drink!  Again, no contest . . .

And I won’t even bother showing the needle and thread race.  Again . . . we killed them.   (See the guy in the middle in the white socks - he won all three races for us!)  Scoring at this point was Red 4 - Blue 1.

Then came the big game for the women - Kickball! (A US male tried to sign up for kickball and was told, “No.  What guy plays kickball, that’s a woman sport - you wouldn’t know what to do!”)

Kickball was very interesting to watch because these women took it seriously.  There was more sliding in this game than in the soccer match.  Unbelievable!  Blue started out taking a strong lead, but Red poured it on once they got warmed up and . . . Red 5 - Blue 1.

In case you were wondering, the festivities were so grand that even a local living in one of the trees looked out to see what was happening.

The last event was the one everyone was waiting for - football (soccer for those of you who care to call it that).  

Most of the guys that I knew from kicking around with that were good, were on the Blue team.  I didn’t have much hope for us, but then I don’t know everybody.  We wound up having quite a few good guys (especially young guys who could run a lot).  Blue played better as a team, but we were able to break them up and threaten on our own.  I was playing on the front line off to the right side and would cut in with threatening runs behind the defense.  One of the guys I’d played with befor who was on my team kept trying to make penetrating passes - one was a bit too far, one got intercepted.  But things were looking good.  I was making dangerous runs and guys were spotting me.

About 10 minutes into the game a short pass came in from the right side.  With my back to the goal I faked left and turned right with the ball cutting into the center of the field.  Charles, the guy on the left, cut left and his marker followed him.  I glanced to my right and saw that the guy covering me had bit on the fake and I was wide open - nobody was close to me and the goal was about 18 yards away.  I touched the ball again with my right foot to set it up, I could tell that the defenders were now reacting and closing in, but it was too late for them to stop a shot.  I was calm as could be - I’d been practicing striking the ball for weeks now, all I had to do was execute!  I took a deep breath, stretched my right leg as far forward as I could to get that planting foot in front of the ball to keep it down.  In my periphery I could see Charles’ defender closing in and cutting off the line of sight of the goalie - great, keep it to the right side of the goal and it’s in.  As I swung my left leg down I could tell it was going to be a clean strike and a rocket was going to take off from my foot!

Next thing I know, my face is planting into the ground, I turn my head to look up and see the ball spinning wildly, bouncing OVER the defender and Charles scrambling to try to get it.  I look around me and . . . nobody is there, just like I thought.  I’m thinking WTF when all of a sudden, my right leg explodes and I close my eyes and bite my tongue trying to keep from screaming.    In the darkness I’m thinking, how could my right leg be hurting, that’s my planting leg, I was looking at it just before . . . . The pain washes over me and I feel a huge cramp in my calf.  I get up and wave to the bench that I have to come off.  

So we start trying to stretch my “cramp” out.  Monday at work my friend (if you can call him that) Surrendra sent me an e-mail with the subject line “That Hurts” and just this little picture.  With friends like him . . .

If you can’t tell, that fat guy on the ground is me and I am groaning. Long story short, we don’t get the cramp out; I’m out for the rest of the game.  We lose in the last minute to a 40 yard “shot” that was actually a cross that happened to go into the goal.  Bad luck.  (Ok, they hit the post 4 times and deserved to win, but. . . .)

Overall, it was Red 5 - Blue 2.  We took home the trophy.

I took home something else.  By the time I got home, the pain wasn’t feeling like a cramp.  I’ve been here before, it doesn’t matter whether it’s a strain, a pull or a tear - ice for the first 24-48 hours, then heat; keep it elevated; lots of fluid and anti-inflammatory pain killers.  Wrap it up for a few days.  Give it time to heal.

As the week wore on my leg slowly loosened up.  I started walking better, though going up hills and stairs is still painful.  Otis, a friend on the Blue Team, told me how the guys on their bench were commenting on my runs and were swearing when I made the turn to take the shot.  “What happened to you Dan, you just collapsed!”  Anyway, apparently Liberians tend to not to play with a real striker, but they appreciate them.

So yesterday, 5 days after my injury, I was changing clothes after work and found the answer to whether it was a pull or a tear.  With a tear you get bleeding and over time, that bleeding works its way out of the muscle and gravitates down the leg.  This was a shot from yesterday afternoon.

So as I was downloading photos getting them ready for the post, I looked at my leg again.  And as you might expect, over time, more of the old bleeding works its way out and the bruising grows.So how do I know I’m not still bleeding - because it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as it did a week ago.

At least I can say I was moaning on the ground not because I’m a pain wimp, but because I had a torn calf muscle!  In case you were wondering, the injury is actually several inches higher than the bruising, in the meaty part of the calf muscle.  Gravity works, everything is sinking downwards, and in a few days, it quite possibly will look like I sprained my ankle.

So that was my FSN sports day (and week after)!  Fun times, crazy memories and . . . a reminder that I’m an old guy!