I Am Now A Legend . . .

On the playgrounds of Korea. Okay, of one playground in Korea. In a small neighborhood on the other side of town. But, still.

The teachers at the other campus play basketball every Tuesday and Friday morning. A couple of the guys invited me out to play. Oh, how I miss pick up games. I grew up in North Carolina. Basketball is a religion. I graduated from UNC-Chapel Hill. It’s a graduation requirement to know all the players, their stats, and the school’s NCAA record (not really, but it might as well be). But it’s been a while. Maybe a year? since I last played. But I was itching to get back on the courts. What was the worst that could happen? I could embarass myself (again). I’d live.

So I took the hour and 20 minute bus ride to the other side of town. Reading a book, trying to recognize anything familiar out the window. I finally saw the DongA department store (yes, my life now revolves around a department store as a major landmark . . . how sad is that?) and jumped off the bus. There were Darla, Peter and Tom waiting for me. As we came over the hill and started our descent to the park, we noticed there were many children on the court. Tom commented no one had ever been on the courts before. Ohhhh, it’s a middle school break today and next week. Well, we could just use one end of the court, no problem.

As we arrived, we received many stares. Four big white people. Peter is 6’6″, Tom is 5’10”, I’m 5’8″ and Darla came in at 5’6″. We started shooting hoops. Just warming up, messing around. Nothing serious. Four middle school guys (probably grade 9 or 10) were checking us out. We motioned to them – wanna play? Yeahhhhhh. We decided to mix things up. We shot for teams. Team 1 – Peter and 3 Koreans. Team 2 – Me, Darla, Tom and one Korean boy. Handshakes all around. Okay, let’s go!

It was a surprisingly good game. Lots of action. Just enough fouls to keep it interesting. And the teams were matched pretty evenly.

At one point, the other team had the ball. Up for a basket. No good. Rebound. Up for another basket. Miss. This time Tom got the rebound. Clap, clap! I’m open. Right as he passed me the ball, my guy was all over me. Dribble, dribble, dribble, my back to the basket. By this time, I’m not so close to the basket. Three point range, easily. No one to pass to. Moment of truth. I bend down, spin around, jump, and the ball leaves my hands. Arcs through the air. Closer, closer, closer to the basket – whoooooooooosssssshhhhhhhh. Nothing but net.

There were several young boys (maybe 5 or 6 years old) watching us play. “Ooooooooooooo – Miguk!” The American. The girl.

Tom high-fived me with the comment, “Must be something in the water. You definitely have earned the right to wear that North Carolina shirt . . .” Life is good.