On Sunday afternoon, I set out to my neighborhood public basketball courts in Shanghai to find out what the Chinese game is all about. When I arrived, the first thing I noticed was that the public hoops venue had been sponsored by Tracy McGrady and Adidas. On the top frame of the gate, a black sign read “T-Mac Court” which made me think that the competition might be too stiff and that I should go and find the “Kurt Thomas Court” or something. But I walked onto the fenced-in 6 courts and it reminded me a lot of home. I was immediately recruited by a Filipino threesome looking for a fourth to take on a team of Shanghainese. Not even five seconds there and people wanted me to run with them. Was it the black Jordan 13s on my feet? My athletic swagger? It didn’t matter to me, they all thought I was the shit. And then I realized why they were so interested in me. I had a ball and they didn’t.
So I took a few warm-up shots that I missed and then got busy playing in the most international basketball game of my life. My opponents were speaking Mandarin, my teammates were speaking Tagalog and I wasn’t speaking. I kept instinctively shouting things like “same team!” and “switch” and realized about 5 minutes in that nobody understood. I played about 6 half-court games like this communicating through motions and the little Chinese that I know. In one of the games I was matched up with a Chinese guy about a foot taller than me. I motioned to the biggest guy on my team for help, pointed to my man and, in Chinese, said, “Too big, I can’t.” And he replied, “I can.” In the fifth game I played, there was a foul called on me that I was visibly displeased over. I wasn’t about to say anything but I thought it was a weak call. As I passed one of my opponents, a guy who had been speaking Chinese the whole time, he leaned into my ear and said in almost perfect English, “This is Shanghai, they call pussy fouls.” I was shocked. Turns out he had grown up in Canada. He made me think about how often I say things here and assume nobody around me can understand.
Anyway, the Shanghainese can ball and they take these pickup games very seriously (I saw one guy try and draw a charge). And my hoops session was not so different from the many I have had in Riverside Park in Manhattan– I played like shit and I sweated through my shirt. What is so interesting is how China, closed off from the West for so long, developed a love and respect for this American game totally on its own. It is their national game. I plan to go back and play this weekend but not before I learn how to say “pussy foul” in Chinese.