Samuel Sooleyman. A South Sudanese teenager for whom basketball is life. It's what he does on the dirt-caked streets for the most of his day that he has to himself, with love, devotion and of course, tenacity. Aparna Iyer. An Indian teenager who feels proud just to say she can shoot a couple of baskets, no more, no less committed. And loves to hear the slapping sound of the ball against the board as it delicately curves inside the net.
Not much of a resemblance, you'd say. Samuel towers over the rest, bracing the basket at a solid 6 feet 4 inches. And growing. Aparna cowers to the hoop at a modest 5 feet 3 inches. This itself could speak for the play, but let's say, size is misleading. Even then, maybe the common thread, for starters, is merely that both 'Sooley', as he has been nicknamed, and Aparna, love basketball from the bottom of their hearts. And thereby hang their tales.
Let me set the context. Samuel is the soft-spoken protagonist of John Grisham's latest novel, 'Sooley', which Aparna (that is, I) managed to lay her hands on a few weeks ago. And about Aparna, well, I believe I'm not impartial enough to describe her in the third person. I can tell merely tell you my story, which is hers, the way I lived it. Just as Grisham will tell you Sooley's story, the way he lived it.
I don't know whether you would care to locate South Sudan on the world map, but even if you didn't, you surely know that it is a country nestled in Africa, much smaller than India, and unfortunately, much more conflicted, than India. Yet, there are a few similarities between Sooley's nation and mine, one of which is a kinship towards family- all dear, whether near or not. The second is a rootedness in tradition- an affiliation to the heritage that has nurtured the country into its present state. The third is the diverse number of communities that reside in both countries, speaking different languages, often practicing different religions. But the commonalities end there.
For no Indian will be able to fathom what living in a conflict-torn land means- that it implies praying to be safe in your own country, a prayer that often goes unanswered, that it renders a simple meal a blessing-one that is procured after standing listlessly in never-ending queues, famished, while on the run to a safer land. I don't think an Indian child in a civilian neighborhood has had to witness indiscriminate killing, miniature genocide, it appears, of a rebel group by a quartet of soldiers masquerading as passengers in the public transport vehicle one is commuting by. But a South-Sudanese youth has often seen these grim realities unfold before his or her eyes without being able to do anything about it. So also is the case with Samuel.
Playing a sport very well is not a lucky augmentation for a South-Sudanese. It is outright serious- if you spend those precious hours on something and outdo yourself at it, you had better make that your job and get cracking on your game-plan right away. There is little choice. If you are to be the bread-winner for your family, all of whom you are very attached to, you had to take what you did well seriously or pay the price. And the price, unlike what we in India associate with the word, would not be a punishment from parents or teachers or detention or confiscation. It would mean going hungry, being homeless, and ultimately, shockingly, but with complete veracity, dying in starvation.
So if Sooley plays great basketball, he's not adding it to a college application. Very few kids even complete high school in South Sudan, and he has been one of the lucky ones. He's going to need to take his affiliation with the sport to the next level if he wants to make ends meet. It's an unspoken dictate that he realizes, and fortunately, the establishment of South Sudanese as world-class basketball players in the United States is a boon in his favor. Coach Ecko Lam, a South Sudanese native settled in America, spots Samuel's talent, and takes a distinct liking to his constant desire to work hard, leaving no stone unturned, to improve his game. Inducted into the South Sudanese under-18 team, he makes his big break at a World Championship, where the team, unfortunately, fails to make the break to play at the final showcase event.
Yet, just the exposure, to someone who has seen merely the dust-spangled hoops in his neighbourhood, means a huge deal. Surrounded by world-class infrasctructure, and with great players, prospective college-recruiters and U.S. coaches milling around him, Samuel wears his happines all over his face through a heartfelt smile, even during arduous practices. All until- the tragic reality of his conflict-ridden homeland leaves him bereaved of his father and younger sister. He puts up a brave front, but the smile is forced. And while Samuel's stealth and speed are unmatchable, he misses more than half his shots and free-throws, despite a fantastic upward leap, leave a lot to be desired.
Halfway around the globe, in Pune, India, a young girl of eleven tries her hand at shooting hoops from a distance but can never manage to muster enough force to land them. She shares a similar story with regards to the low conversion percentage of the shots as Samuel. Basketball is a sport she has always loved, ever since she threw her first basket at the age of seven and heard the ball whip with that sharp, tacky sound against the board. In German, that sound would have a word for it, as I've heard German has a word for these subtleties that are everything but so hard to describe.
Well, basketball is her only key at making it to an interhouse team. Any sports team, for that matter. For a pre-teen who wants to fit in, it does matter. A lot.
Yet, while there is passion and perseverence, the performance is nowhere near perfect. Maybe scoring would make you visible for team tryouts, but that's just the beginning. You had to learn so many other gimmicks and tricks to play the game well. And here, even the scoring was nascent.
At twelve, she managed, to her own surprise, to be selected to the Inter-House Basketball team, which was a great deal for her. She was nervous, as most players were more experienced than her, and more aggressive and athletic. But she needn't have been. At the first practice session, when the ball failed to even make contact with the board as she hurled it in an upward trajectory, the house captain shook his head and showed her to the bench. Almost in tears, she shook her head dejectedly, but knew that it was inevitable. In fact, she was somewhat relieved. And a part of her knew that she had a reason to play this sport well. One that was fairer to herself than the previous one. She would show these guys that she could indeed be great at this game if she set her mind to it. That being slender and short didn't disqualify her if she turned on her inner power and determination. That being soft-spoken didn't mean she would be soft with the ball.
She practised regularly that summer break. Growing taller and stronger by the day, she was now converting more of her shots. She tried various angles- the under-basket, the three-pointer, layups and some other drills. She worked a bit on her dribbling. She was doing good, and getting better. And that was because she was having fun- doing it just for herself, not for a distant dream of a team that hadn't needed her.
As she practised regularly, shooting at that particular basket in her apartment became second-nature for her. Her muscle memory had the exact parameters for a particular location from the basket drilled deep into her. Her muscles weren't letting her down either, as she was able to make some of the distant shots and the angular ones. Eyes on the board, she told herself always. Aim the board and it goes. Just physics- and intuition.
She didn't know whether she was good enough to play for a school team, but she knew that she was good enough for herself. Pro-playing was something different. "I just want to do this for the fun", she reminded herself. "And I want to do this to remind myself that nothing inhibits me. If I want to do something, I will. And I can do it well. No one can stop me."
These were Sooley's very thoughts after he was redshirted for his first season with the new team he was on. Now on the way to being an American citizen, his coaches had taken things into their own hands, having decided to sponsor his college education in the U.S.A. This was the only way they could help him support his refugee family in Uganda, they reckoned. But his game was still raw and there was only so much they could do. His talent would have to merit the rest.
At this junction, Aparna wonders what will happen next in the story. She knows what happened in hers. She loves the sport and feels okay not to be great at it. She knows she likes it and will play the game for the game's own sake.
I think that's what Sooley will do, keeping worries, fears and apprehensions behind. Remember what brought him here, and see where he can take it. His basketball. The unifying link between the narrow dust-tracks of Lotta, his city, and the glorious NBA leagues in the U.S.
But for now he would be content to be dangling in that chasm between the two, neither here, nor there. He would play basketball just for its own sake. For the sake of the thumping sound of the ball brushing against the board. For the sight of it gingerly sliding down the net of the hoop and into his hands for the perfect rebound.
That should be enough, he would say, for now. For all it was worth. Let's just give it a shot.
Image Courtesy: https://photos.com/featured/ball-and-basketball-court-matt-brown.html
Comments
Post a Comment