What is Chapel Hill without basketball? The North Carolina Tar Heels is one of the most successful college basketball teams, having won 5 NCAA Tournament Championships and produced many NBA players, most notably Michael Jordan. The love of the sport permeates the campus, and I am naturally going to get involved as well.
Aside from the varsity and club teams, the two main gyms on campus have basketball courts which are always bustling. However, these courts are governed by rules and codes of conduct which are not obvious to the unaware foreigner, and thus I have learnt it the hard way:
1) Hierarchy. Centre court is the equivalent of pride rock - you are king - and you stay until you lose. Challengers can assemble and wait their turn / play on the outer courts. If a team is short, they will select a member based purely on whether they think he is an asset to the team; i.e. if you are a lousy player, you can stand around in line all day, but you'll never get to play.
2) The better you are, the more respect / game time / acknowledgement you get. This might seem obvious in an environment brimming with testosterone, but it is the law of the jungle. If you add no value, you feel as if it is 9 on 1 (rather than 5 on 5), but if you make good passes and especially shots, you'll be welcomed by the gruff cheers of "There you go, boy!" and fist bumps. I love fist bumps.
3) African Americans are physically amazing. There is a reason why some 70% of the basketball players at the gym are black. Either they are 6'5" and weigh 220 pounds, but still have a faster change of pace than I have, or they are 5'9" but still have the jumping power to dunk. I have never seen such agility, strength or explosiveness before in my life - and these guys are just amateurs having fun.
4) Every person has a role on the team. Even if you are not that good at making shots, you can still be an asset to the team. You just have to find a niche. I have identified the following types of players: the shooter, the driver, the passer, the center, and the joker. These are somewhat similar to the basket positions of shooting guard, point guard, small forward and center for the first 4 positions respectively.
Every team has a shooter who makes shots, can hit 3 pointers consistently, and lure out the defence. These guys are probably the most admired, and they often have the ego to back it up. The driver is a smaller, more explosive player, who can offset his direct opponent and drive towards the basket. They are effective scorers, but more common and easier to guard. If you have an exceptional driver, however, you have something akin to a one-man army. The center is basically some huge dude. Criteria are at least 6'6", some 230 pounds, and able to score from under the basket with 2 guys marking them. A good center often acts as a good defender against the opponent's center, so they are rarely the most dominant players.
Most teams at this level often have 1 or 2 of the above. They thus need some actual teamwork to shift the defence and create space. This is where the last two roles come in. A joker is an all-round player, typically small, fast, technical, and with a good shot, but not good enough to be an outright shooter or more valuable as a play-maker who can both drive and shoot. These guys are often jack of all trades, master of non, and there is a seemingly over-abundance of them. You have to be on a bad team to stand out as a joker. Finally, there is a passer. This is the role I am adapting to. A passer is the energetic bunny racing around creating havoc in offence. He will create space, and receive a pass under pressure. His objective is to quickly shift the ball to a team mate before the 3 defenders in the 1 yard radius all crush him with coverage. I see it kind of like a 1-2 pass in football - this double motion unbalances the defence and shifts the ball from the driver, via the passer, to the shooter, the center, or the joker at half-range. Often without too much pressure (thanks to the passer), they should make the basket.
So for now, I am brushing up on my dribbling, shooting, passing (everything), my intricate hand-shakes, my fist bumps and my Southern-accent slang, while increasing my weekly practices, my group of African American friends, and my reputation on the court. Welcome to UNC!
mandag den 27. august 2012
onsdag den 22. august 2012
Sunrise Biscuit Kitchen
Suffering from jet-lag, moving-in chaos, and an excessive amount of alcoholic beverages, the first days in Chapel Hill were very much defined by the actions of my American GLOBE friends. I owe thanks to their ability to drive, fetch, guide, recommend, gather, and sustain the incoming CUHK and CBS students. Naturally a few culture shocks appeared, but there was one above them all: Breakfast. Readers of this blog will recall my fond praises of the East Asian dim sum, with fresh produce in simple yet mouth-watering dishes at a total bargain. My first impressions of southern U.S. breakfast food was nothing of the sort:
Breakfast day 1:
Waking up abnormally early on a Saturday due to jet lag, we step through the doors of breakfast diner at 9 AM sharp. The place is exactly as you imagine - gruff, overweight men growling over their black coffee; young people in large, Carolinian blue T-shirts helping themselves to huge portions of eggs, pancakes and sausages; cheerful greetings from a bustling waitress in a sharp, high-pitch Southern accent, and not a single piece of wall space that isn't draped in blue-and-white T-shirts, newspaper articles, pictures, and banners. We sit down, my Danish friend orders a ham, tomato, and cheese omelet, while I go local and have bacon, eggs, toast and "grits" - coarsely ground corn boiled somewhat akin to porridge.
We learned a couple of things. The eggs were the healthiest item on my plate - the bacon was awesome (unhealthy as it should be), but toast was soaked in butter and the grits came with a huge lump of butter on them, to which one adds maple syrup. Omelets are originally made with cheese, so my friend's feta-cheese omelet was akin to a eating a fondue the size of a small football. He didn't even get half way.
Breakfast day 2:
Sleeping on a friends couch the following night (due to issues moving in) wasn't exactly the most convenient way to start the day, so he decided to take us to try "biscuits" at Sunrise Biscuit Kitchen. He said that American biscuits are similar to a savoury scone, having the same crumbling consistency, but being slightly larger, around the size of an open hand. You then slice them open and add cheese or meat, and enjoy them with tea. That sounds exactly like something this semi-Brit would appreciate. Alas.
Biscuits are very similar, except that they are greasy and quite salty, and you get them unnecessarily buttered and with cheese, egg, AND bacon. The tea, on the other hand, is not hot tea, but a sweetened version of iced tea - very sweetened. The salty biscuit makes you chug the tea, creating a horrible sugar rush at the same time that your body is trying to combat the grease and salt. You feel your arteries constricting, your heart starts to race, and you sit for 30 minutes feeling jittery but without any energy to move. An edible heart-attack, available only through drive-in, and yours for only 4,50 USD. Welcome to America.
I know first impressions can cause deep and consistent biases for the future, so I let me give an account of the first couple of meals
Breakfast day 1:
Waking up abnormally early on a Saturday due to jet lag, we step through the doors of breakfast diner at 9 AM sharp. The place is exactly as you imagine - gruff, overweight men growling over their black coffee; young people in large, Carolinian blue T-shirts helping themselves to huge portions of eggs, pancakes and sausages; cheerful greetings from a bustling waitress in a sharp, high-pitch Southern accent, and not a single piece of wall space that isn't draped in blue-and-white T-shirts, newspaper articles, pictures, and banners. We sit down, my Danish friend orders a ham, tomato, and cheese omelet, while I go local and have bacon, eggs, toast and "grits" - coarsely ground corn boiled somewhat akin to porridge.
We learned a couple of things. The eggs were the healthiest item on my plate - the bacon was awesome (unhealthy as it should be), but toast was soaked in butter and the grits came with a huge lump of butter on them, to which one adds maple syrup. Omelets are originally made with cheese, so my friend's feta-cheese omelet was akin to a eating a fondue the size of a small football. He didn't even get half way.
Breakfast day 2:
Sleeping on a friends couch the following night (due to issues moving in) wasn't exactly the most convenient way to start the day, so he decided to take us to try "biscuits" at Sunrise Biscuit Kitchen. He said that American biscuits are similar to a savoury scone, having the same crumbling consistency, but being slightly larger, around the size of an open hand. You then slice them open and add cheese or meat, and enjoy them with tea. That sounds exactly like something this semi-Brit would appreciate. Alas.
Biscuits are very similar, except that they are greasy and quite salty, and you get them unnecessarily buttered and with cheese, egg, AND bacon. The tea, on the other hand, is not hot tea, but a sweetened version of iced tea - very sweetened. The salty biscuit makes you chug the tea, creating a horrible sugar rush at the same time that your body is trying to combat the grease and salt. You feel your arteries constricting, your heart starts to race, and you sit for 30 minutes feeling jittery but without any energy to move. An edible heart-attack, available only through drive-in, and yours for only 4,50 USD. Welcome to America.
I know first impressions can cause deep and consistent biases for the future, so I let me give an account of the first couple of meals
lørdag den 18. august 2012
Flying West
After finishing 5 epic Olympic days and finishing at in style at P&G, a quick round of goodbyes later I found myself on a plane to America. Going for the cheaper option (one is a student), the two-stage flight meant a significant layover on our flight westward.
The plan was to fly from Copenhagen to Raleigh / Durham as cheaply as possible, but also accounting for time and convenience. After discarding all the flights which had two layovers (simply horrible) and ones over 20 hours, a fair few flights remained. Cheapest option was around 5900 DKR, but that was flying out at 4 AM, so a couple of friends of mine and I settled on a 6300 DKR deal via Toronto. Only catch was a 6 hour layover in the airport, but we had company and limited funds.
Turns out, trying to kill time in an airport after 10 hours of flying is painful. You don't want to sleep (your body thinks it is 1 AM, but it is only 7 PM local time) in order to minimize the jetlag, but you cannot really do anything else. Toronto Pearson airport has an extremely limited selection of entertainment, as well as some extremely uncomfortable seats - not really helping. A 1-hour flight delay meant we landed at midnight local time, and a 20 minute drive gave me my first impression of Chapel Hill. Second leg of international studying has begun!
The plan was to fly from Copenhagen to Raleigh / Durham as cheaply as possible, but also accounting for time and convenience. After discarding all the flights which had two layovers (simply horrible) and ones over 20 hours, a fair few flights remained. Cheapest option was around 5900 DKR, but that was flying out at 4 AM, so a couple of friends of mine and I settled on a 6300 DKR deal via Toronto. Only catch was a 6 hour layover in the airport, but we had company and limited funds.
Turns out, trying to kill time in an airport after 10 hours of flying is painful. You don't want to sleep (your body thinks it is 1 AM, but it is only 7 PM local time) in order to minimize the jetlag, but you cannot really do anything else. Toronto Pearson airport has an extremely limited selection of entertainment, as well as some extremely uncomfortable seats - not really helping. A 1-hour flight delay meant we landed at midnight local time, and a 20 minute drive gave me my first impression of Chapel Hill. Second leg of international studying has begun!
torsdag den 2. august 2012
The Copper Box
The Copper Box is the venue for the Olympic Handball group stages. Located in the Olympic Park in Stratford, London, it is a stones throw from the Olympic stadium, the Aquatics center and the Velodrome, and where I will experience my 2012 Olympics live.
Today was my first of 5 full days in London, 3 of which contain tickets for the men's handball group stages. The 12 teams are split into two groups who play a round-robin tournament, with the four best from each progressing to the quarter-finals and the ensuing knock-out phase. Great Britain, being hosts, have their first handball team in the olympics and are massive underdogs for progressing, let alone a match victory. But the remaining teams are top-flight, and some epic showdowns are on the horizon.
Every other day all 12 teams play, resulting in 6 matches split into 3 sessions of 2 games. A ticket thus gets you 2 matches in succession, which is great value for money and allows the crowd to get a better idea of what handball is all about. Today Croatia stuffed Hungary, after which Great Britain, after an enthralling first half, ran out of steam and were brutally whipped by Argentina. After losing by 44-15 and 41-19 in their first two games (to France and Sweden, admittedly), this was a great performance by a team just started 6 years ago.
The best part about it was the venue. The Copper Box seats 6500 and was packed with home supporters. No-one in England knows anything about handball, but the pace of the game and the stamina, skill and strength required appeals to British fans. Before the game, a 30 minute program was shown on the big screens to educate the spectators on rules, stats, tactics, teams, players, and history so that they weren't clueless when the game started. It is all a part of branding the sport for a UK audience for the coming years. The crowd seem to take a liking to it - of all the Olympic events, handball has received the best feedback from spectators with a ranking of 9.9 out of 10.
Today was my first of 5 full days in London, 3 of which contain tickets for the men's handball group stages. The 12 teams are split into two groups who play a round-robin tournament, with the four best from each progressing to the quarter-finals and the ensuing knock-out phase. Great Britain, being hosts, have their first handball team in the olympics and are massive underdogs for progressing, let alone a match victory. But the remaining teams are top-flight, and some epic showdowns are on the horizon.
Every other day all 12 teams play, resulting in 6 matches split into 3 sessions of 2 games. A ticket thus gets you 2 matches in succession, which is great value for money and allows the crowd to get a better idea of what handball is all about. Today Croatia stuffed Hungary, after which Great Britain, after an enthralling first half, ran out of steam and were brutally whipped by Argentina. After losing by 44-15 and 41-19 in their first two games (to France and Sweden, admittedly), this was a great performance by a team just started 6 years ago.
The best part about it was the venue. The Copper Box seats 6500 and was packed with home supporters. No-one in England knows anything about handball, but the pace of the game and the stamina, skill and strength required appeals to British fans. Before the game, a 30 minute program was shown on the big screens to educate the spectators on rules, stats, tactics, teams, players, and history so that they weren't clueless when the game started. It is all a part of branding the sport for a UK audience for the coming years. The crowd seem to take a liking to it - of all the Olympic events, handball has received the best feedback from spectators with a ranking of 9.9 out of 10.
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