In December 2003, while at the Uganda University Games, I was told the East Africa University Games would be in Nairobi in 2004. It was something to look forward to. The performance of the basketball team in the Uganda University Games left us badly needing something to look forward to. We were able to squeeze out wins against very weak teams from the Islamic University and a Seventh-Day Adventist University, but when we played the big boys, we were slaughtered. Kampala International University (KIU) beat us 113-30.
As soon as the construction of our full court was finished here on campus in February 2004, we started talking about Nairobi. The guys were out playing everyday and I’d play whenever I could and if I blocked someone’s shot I’d say things like, “You won’t get away with that weak stuff in Nairobi.” When I left to come home for the summer, I left guys knowing that any work they did on their own would be work toward getting them to Nairobi.
I remember one day this summer in Georgia. I was in a department store with my mom and I picked up a pair of athletic pants marked down to $6. “I’ll wear these in Nairobi.” Turns out, I didn’t wear the pants--I’m not really one for athletic pants--but those pants and a million other little consistent thoughts were always pointing me to Nairobi.
Upon returning this year, the first conversation I had with the Dean of Students was about Nairobi.
“Jason, welcome back. Will the boys be ready for Nairobi?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen any of them yet.”
“They should be ready.”
We talked and he told me we had to limit the total number of participants to 70 so we could only take the lowest possible number of athletes in each sport. I told him I had to have 12.
So, before I knew who was back to play and who wasn’t and which of the new guys were any good, I knew I’d have to decide on 12 guys who’d be going with to Nairobi in December.
A lot went into that decision and it wasn’t easy for me and it especially wasn’t easy for the three guys who’d been practicing with us and working hard but who I had to leave here since they weren’t going to help us. It didn’t hit me until the day we were scheduled to leave--50 on a chartered bus, and 25 on a smaller University bus--how big of a deal it was. Most of our students are from Uganda and most of them have never left the country for as much as an afternoon or a weekend. They were full of questions for the few Kenyans and Tanzanians who’d traveled the roads we’d be taking--questions someone from Kansas might ask “Will we see lions?” “Do they eat dogs?” “What about the warriors?” Nairobi was much more than a place where we were going to play basketball or soccer or volleyball or netball or run track--it was a once-in-a-lifetime destination.
I’d been to Nairobi twice. Once for a week-long Episcopal missionary retreat at a retreat center outside of town in Limuru, and once for about two hours between midnight and 2 a.m. waiting on the street to transfer from the bus from Kampala onto the bus to Arusha. I was excited for everyone who was going for the first time. And I was excited for me because I’d just finished grading my last final exam and was getting on the bus with a cd player and charged batteries and a whole lotta George Jones.
They let me sit in the front seat of the University bus which seats 29 with no luggage, but was packed with luggage and balls and 25 people. The men’s and women’s volleyball teams and the netball team (women) were on the bus with Nason (men’s and women’s volleyball coach) and Vincent (Sports Tutor--equivalent of over-worked and under-paid athletic director), and me. The chartered bus was from the Akamba bus company. There are about six bus companies responsible for most trans-East Africa travel, mostly operating between Kigali in Rwanda and the coastal towns of Kenya and Tanzania--and they range between varying degrees of safety and comfort. You can take a Gateway bus from Kigali to Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania for about $50. Or you can take a Scandanavia bus the same distance for as much as $200. But, you’ll know where that extra $150 went when you arrive in one piece in Dar Es Salaam. Due to a bad record of often avoidable accidents, many folks refer to Gateway as “Gateway to the Hereafter.” But, whether it’s Gateway or Akamba or Scandanavia or a University vehicle, people mean it when they say “I’ll pray for your safety.” And they mean it when they see you step off the bus at your destination and they say “Praise the Lord! You are welcome!” Behind malaria and AIDS, road accidents are the biggest killer in East Africa.
The trip was as uneventful as an 18-hour overnight bus trip between African capital cities can be. We left campus two-hours late after waiting for the Akamba bus to arrive from Kampala, spent an hour-and-a-half at the border, another hour stopping for tea at 2:00 in the morning in El Doret and then 2 more hours on the side of the road just inside Nairobi getting our fuel pump replaced. Jeremiah, our bus driver had been awake since 6:00 the morning of the day we left and didn’t sleep until after lunch the day we arrived in Nairobi. I’ve been Jeremiah’s co-pilot on many trips between basketball and the Uganda Studies Program, but none of them have been longer than four or five hours. I asked him if he had any trouble staying awake. He said, “When I drove for the Army, we’d sometimes drive three days without sleeping.” All he had to say was, “I drove for the Army.”
We all settled into different spots on campus at Kenyatta University. Our Dean of Students and Vincent and Jeremiah and the three of us coaches stayed in the dorm for “officials” and the rest of our group piled into one huge dorm with the roughly 1,500 other athletes. There were separate wings and floors designated for men and women. Everyone knows about the HIV/AIDS situation in Africa. One of my first thoughts was the potentially lethal combination of young people excited to be away from home for the first time, ready to explore everything, no responsibilities outside of playing their one or two games every day, thrown on top of each other into one big building. Every evening all the “officials” met to discuss various matters. The General Secretary of the Games addressed this potential problem early in the first meeting. “We are aware that these young people are living close together for this week. We hope that you who are their leaders will discourage them from engaging in any kind of inappropriate behavior. We hope none of this happens. But, knowing that it might happen, we have made provisions for those rare cases. 3,000 condoms have been made available to the students in the dormitory.” While such language is common in Uganda, I was encouraged to hear the Kenyan man acknowledge that sex between athletes would be “inappropriate,” but… 3,000 condoms? My “don’t do anything stupid” speech to my guys before they went to bed contained no mention of 3,000 condoms.
Games began the morning of our first day there. All the basketball was played away from Kenyatta University. Virtually all basketball in Africa, on anything other than the International level, is played on outdoor courts. The indoor courts are few and are too expensive for the leagues to rent for games, so they exist for weddings and funerals of important people. All of our games were at the two outdoor courts at United States International University (USIU), so we climbed into the bus everyday and Jeremiah drove us over and stayed when he could and then brought us back. Three other Ugandan schools, KIU, Makerere University, and Nkumba University were also in our pool so we often shared rides back-and-forth from the games. I was already good friends with Lawrence (KIU coach) and Tom (Nkumba coach), but the trips back-and-forth provided an opportunity for me and all our players to get to know players from the other Ugandan universities.
Our first game was against Makerere. Walking from the bus to the court Raymond, our captain, asked me, “Coach, what do you think about playing zone?”
I hate playing zone. I never fully understood the concepts when I was playing so I never tried to explain them to my guys at UCU. I know, no matter what, every player has got to be able to play one-on-one defense first before he can do anything conceptual no matter how easy it is. So I’d been coaching nothing but man-to-man and we’d been playing nothing but man-to-man. Of course, we’d been losing almost all our games and I thought about trying to play a zone, but we weren’t losing because other teams were hitting three’s or because they were pounding it in to their big guys. We were losing because guards were getting beat off the dribble and giving up easy lay-ups and if the lay-ups were missed, we weren’t blocking out--those are problems that are solved by playing better man-to-man defense. I didn’t say any of that to Raymond. I said, “What do you think about playing zone?”
“I think these goals are tough to shoot on and guys aren’t going to be doing much outside and I think if we can play tough inside and rebound we’d be better.”
“Go get 32 and Ken and we’ll talk about it.”
Raymond came back with the other two captains and I asked them and they both agreed they wanted to try a zone. I told them, “O.k. I’ve got no problem with it. But guys’ve gotta block out. The same thing applies--when a shot goes up, you’ve gotta hit a man.”
I got the team together before they started warming up with lay-ups and told them we were gonna play a 2-1-2 zone, and everyone was gonna have to block out. They warmed-up with more enthusiasm than I’d seen before. I figured it was just because “Nairobi” was finally a reality and their adrenaline had them all full-throttle. The biggest problem with basketball in East Africa is rims that can’t handle dunking. So the best court is a court with sturdy rims. The rims at USIU were sturdy--steel welded onto steel welded onto steel looking like terrible modern art bolted to a back-board. They were both about an inch too high and couldn’t have been more rigid if they were made out of concrete. Despite the hardness and height, Ken (our superstar and starting guard on the Uganda National Team) was dunking like I’d never seen him dunk (dunking is legal in warm-ups here) and people were crowding around and watching and our guys were jumping higher and a couple of them put down a few dunks. I don’t think anyone made one jump shot. Even though I feared they’d come out with tons of energy and wear themselves out after ten minutes and we’d lose by 40, I knew it wouldn’t do any good to try and calm them down.
Makerere University is the oldest and most established instruction, not only in Uganda, but all of East Africa. It has long been referred to as “the Harvard of East Africa.” While not everyone is aware of it, Uganda Christian University is challenging Makerere’s prominence in every aspect of University life from Academic Programs to the service in the Dining Hall, and UCU is making up ground fast. Makerere sponsors a club team in the MTN pro league in Kampala made up of some current and former students and they’re perennial favorites in the league and have won the championship the last three years. We’d played their university team twice (both times without Ken who had commitments with his pro team). At our place they beat us by 20, at their place they beat us by 50.
Makerere won the tip, one of their guards drove, missed a lay-up, Sam (6’4” forward) got the rebound, passed to Ken, he drove the length of the court, made a move, and made a lay-up. We were up 2-0. We held that lead until the third quarter. We played four ten-minute quarters with a running clock. At one point in the second quarter we were up 18. At half-time we were up 12. It was all the zone. We’d never practiced any of it. We didn’t need to--that’s Ugandan basketball. Guys knew what they were doing, they knew what the offense wanted to do, they were doing their best to stop it and in the first half, their best was good enough. Sam picked up his third foul right at the end of the first half. I didn’t want to, but I put him in in the second half because he was playing well and Frank (6’6” center) was our only other reliable big guy and you can’t play a 2-1-2 against Makerere’s two 6’5” guys and one 6’7” guy with only one big man. Sam got his fourth foul two minutes into the third quarter--I pulled him out. In another three or four minutes, Frank went down with a sprained ankle--I pulled him out and tightened his shoe like crazy and put him back in but he couldn’t go and I pulled him back out. If you can’t play that 2-1-2 with one big man, you certainly can’t do it with no big men. I put in Anto, hard-working but very un-polished 6’2” guy and he couldn’t handle it. The Makerere guys started doing whatever they wanted, and despite Ken’s 26 points, we ended up losing by 20.
But the guys felt good anyway--we’d never led by more than four or five points in any game all season. All I told them is that they played good defense and told them they needed to rebound better the next game.
The next morning we played Dar Es Salaam University from Tanzania. KIU was playing at the court next to us. Nkumba had a game right before us and Makerere was playing right after us so all their guys were around. They were watching both games, but they were standing behind our bench and cheering us on. It was great for our guys, not only to have people cheering for them, but to have big-shot Kampala players (most of the other players from other Universities were scholarship players from the MTN League) cheering for them.
It wasn’t quite as nice for me. The sports culture here is so defined by soccer. A soccer field is big and the action takes place mostly in the interior of the field so fans crowd the sidelines and if the ball does come their way once or twice a match they step back and everything’s fine. The only spot on the field where people aren’t crowding sidelines is in front of the players benches (if they have benches). Instead, people stand right behind the bench and yell at players and coaches just like they would if they were standing anywhere else. So they treat basketball the same way. On campus at UCU, after a few incidents of me going nuts on students for sitting on our bench and for getting in my way on the sidelines, people now know where not to stand. But there were Nkumba and Makerere guys all over the place, and since they were basketball guys and peers of my players and guys I want to get to know, I didn’t want to go off on them. I asked them not to stand between me and the bench and they listened and that was about all I could ask.
We came out the same way against Dar Es Salaam--good zone defense and a ten-point lead. Then they scored six straight points and I called a time-out and got the guys over and I’m telling them something (I might be the worst time-out coach in the universe) and this Makerere guy who’s sort of their player/coach (not much of a player or a coach) comes in the huddle and points to Ken and says to me, “You need to let #4 bring the ball up court and let Ken get open--Ken’s not a point guard.”
I turned to the guy with respect I found somewhere, “Dude. Let me coach.”
Ken and Raymond (#4) and I had had the “Ken’s not a point guard” conversation and we had an arrangement. I didn’t say anything about that and the guys went back out and played. They built the lead back up. Frank’s ankle bothered him but his shoe was tight and he played through it, Sam stayed out of foul trouble--we were maintaining. With a ten-point lead, Ken started slowing things down to take advantage of the running clock. But we quickly lost rhythm and gave up three baskets and I asked the official how much time was left (there was no clock visible, only an official with a watch at the scorer’s table) and we were only up 4 with 4 minutes to play. I told guys to keep pushing and not slow it down but they couldn’t get it back and in a couple minutes we were down by 2. I asked the official for the time and he told me “one-and-a-half minutes.” In what felt like ten seconds they blew the whistle ending the game. We lost by 5. I asked the official why he didn’t announce the time at least at a minute. He said softly, “I did.” I said, “Yeah--that loud.”
The guys felt bad about blowing the lead, but I did all I could to encourage them and convince them the game was ours to win and we needed to win those games in the future. The Makerere and Nkumba guys were also encouraging our guys--it was a real nice thing to see.
Our next game was the same afternoon against Maseno University from Kenya. Jeremiah had left us and gone back to Kenyatta University to pick up as many folks as he could to bring them to watch our second game. Just before we tipped off, the bus pulled off and soccer and volleyball guys and netball and volleyball girls came running off and over to our bench and we had a valid cheering section to combine with the guys from other teams. Sam won the tip to Raymond, he passed to Ken, Ken made a lay-up and our little crowd went nuts. Again, zone. Again, we built the lead up to 10 in the first half and Ken started slowing it down again. Again, we lost rhythm and they got easy baskets and were back within 2. I called a time-out and went close to nuts on all of them for losing concentration and told them to keep pushing and doing what works. “The same thing happened this morning and we LOST. Look at me! Look at me! DON’T LOSE IT AGAIN!” I looked into the eyes of all five in our little circle and pointed and said softly, “Don’t lose it.”
They went out and got it back and we were up six at half-time. We came out strong in the second half and gave our folks plenty to cheer about. Early in the fourth quarter Henry, a guard and Ken’s cousin and roommate, got a steal and was out on a fast break with only one Maseno guy to beat. Henry went up for the lay-up and the Maseno guy challenged him, but Henry wasn’t shooting--he threw it off the backboard and Ken was trailing and came flying in and caught it with two hands and dunked it hard all over the Maseno guy. Everyone went crazy. We won by 9. Later I said to Ken, “I bet you’ve never been happier about a missed lay-up.” He told me, “He didn’t miss. We’ve been planning that for years.”
It was a great win. Our people were there. The guys from other schools were shaking all our hands. The talk then became about what needed to happen for us to move on to the quarterfinals of the tournament out of our pool. I knew there was no way since the best-case-scenario would have three teams with two losses and we’d lost to one of those teams, but I let the guy postulate anyway.
We came back the next day early so Jeremiah could go back and pick up our supporters. We played Moi University. I’d watched them play Makerere tough the day before and didn’t think we had much of a chance. They were bigger, played with more confidence and had more skilled players than we did. The only advantage I saw was that they never blocked out. I told our guy, “If we block out and rebound, we’ll win. If we don’t, we’ll lose.”
Moi won the tip, missed a shot, Sam got the rebound, passed out to Raymond, Raymond passed to Ken and Ken hit a three and out people were ready to fight the Philistines. We kept up the zone. Our big guys played well--they blocked out--they rebounded. Ken was getting good shots--Raymond hit a couple of three’s--Sam got a couple shots inside. We led most of the game but never by more than five, and we lost the lead a couple of times and had to fight and rebound to get it back.
The guys were exhausted. The starting five played most of every game. The two guards I brought in off the bench played no more than several minutes each. Frank’s ankle was bothering him, and he was fighting through it but then he was fouled hard going to the basket and went down on his elbow on the asphalt. He came off and we had someone attend to his bloody elbow and I knew and he knew he was done. Ken had two fouls in the first half and came out and picked up two quick ones in the second half. I didn’t realize he had four until I asked and knew I had to take him out. We were up two late in the third quarter with Frank and Ken on the bench.
32 (Peter--wears a #32 jersey to practice everyday) is our 6’1” small forward and one of our captains who, when he’s on, can score in unorthodox ways at will. Next to Ken he’d been our leading scorer in the games leading up to Nairobi--in one loss to Nkumba when Ken couldn’t hit anything, 32 had 30 points. 32’d had a tough time in Nairobi--things just weren’t working. But when he knew he had to, he stepped up. Both he and Raymond got good shots and hit them and with three minutes left in the fourth quarter we were up by three.
Ken was rested and I sent him back in. But at the same time, Moi found whatever they’d been looking for. They didn’t miss a shot and we missed a couple and we were down 2. I asked for the time and it was 40 seconds. I yelled at the guys to foul and they did. The Moi guy hit both free throws and we were down 4. Ken got it, went down and got it to 32 and he was fouled and hit one of two free throws and we were down 3. Moi brought it back across and we fouled again and I called time-out. Fifteen seconds left. I’m the worst time-out coach in the universe. I told the guys, “It’s the same thing if he makes one or both of these. Take it and sprint and get a lay-up and foul again.” I didn’t say anything about if he missed both. He missed both. Sam blocked out, got the rebound, passed out to Ken, Ken passed up court to Raymond, Raymond caught the pass on the three point line, took a dribble and a step to adjust and hit the jumper. The official whistled. Game over. We lost by 1. If I’d told them we needed a three, Raymond would’ve stepped back after catching the pass instead of forward. There’s no way to know if he would’ve hit the shot, but he would’ve taken it.
That might’ve been the best game we played all year and it was by far the most painful. But not so much for the guys. Everyone they saw was offering high-fives and congratulations. I was mad at myself, but I was thrilled for the guys who’d come a real long way in the last year and I was thrilled there were other students there to see it. After the game, I was standing in the shade and Ken came over. A week or so earlier I’d mentioned to him that I was working on getting scholarships donated and bringing in a few big players to build the team in the future. He said, “Coach. We don’t need any recruits. This team is good.” I shook his hand and didn’t tell him he’d just made my year.
The week wasn’t over. There were three more days of sun-burn and cracked-lips, and several more basketball games. I got the opportunity to give an impromptu pre-game talk to the Makerere guys before their semi-final game and all the guys listened to me and I felt like a coach who’d proved he was a coach worth listening to--all the guys listened, from the big studs to the player/coach with the point guard advice. I also followed up the basketball advice with advice about the girls they said they were planning to sleep with that night at the dorms which was basically, “Smile and stay away.” I spent an afternoon talking about HIV/AIDS with the African Director of MAP International who’d slept in my bed in Brunswick, Georgia. I went into Nairobi one night with Lawrence and ate dinner at a four-star restaurant where he was the manager before moving to Uganda to coach. I took the team into Nairobi and we ate an incredible meal at the Carnivore--everything from beef and pork to crocodile and emu (meal courtesy of my all-time favorite shooting guard Jim Bloom). But mostly I spent the rest of the time thinking about basketball and what I needed to do to make it better for my guys at UCU and what I needed to do to make them better than anyone else. There were many many thoughts ranging between the philosophical to the physical and the financial to the spiritual. But the one thing that bounced around through all of it was, “This team is good.”
