I meant to do a posting on this yesterday, but my freezer instead challenged me to an unscheduled duel that precluded accomplishment of any of my regularly scheduled activities. Instead of posting, I did what all cool people do on a Friday night: utilize a makeshift chisel (read: pasta spoon) and attempt to jailbreak frozen food out from blocks of impenetrable ice. Only one bloody knuckle, but I think we are back to Dakar Normal for now.

So, flashing back to earlier this week. I got an invite from the Public Affairs Office to attend another official function. A little less than enthused about what this event might entail (free booze is not gonna lure me out of my house), I was pleasantly shocked to see that this one was to a reception for “l’Association Nationale de Basketball”. 

NBA? In Dakar? Cool! 

…why the heck are they here?

I used my overpaid research skills to gather some amplifying data via the series of tubes. It would appear that Basketball Without Borders and Nothing But Nets is in town for the first time. Normally the Africa iteration of this program goes to South Africa, but they are now expanding to other countries where basketball is played to further spread the word. What did that mean to me? It meant that I had about three days to get marginally smart on the non-Boston NBA and WNBA personalities who were slated to attend the reception.

Coaches and players presenting a signed jersey to the Ambassador. Lucky woman!

I have told you before that I am a hockey fan first and foremost.  I won’t even bother to link to any of my previous blog entries attesting to this fact (okay, maybe one), but I will say that my sister’s long-standing and infectious love of the Celtics has resulted in some NBA interest via osmosis. She suggested that I wear my Rondo jersey to the soirée, even though no Celtics were scheduled to attend. What an excellent idea.

I may be a bit of a bandwagon jumper, but I don’t like to think of myself as one of those girls who wear hats and sports jerseys that are desecrated by the color pink. If I was going to wear a NBA jersey, I knew that I would need to at least possess some basic knowledge of the players in attendance. I checked out their names, faces and read up on their bios (don’t ask me to memorize missile ranges, that I can never do). You all can laugh, but I went to the reception armed with a little cheat sheet, lest I get caught in a conversation with a very tall man and need to demonstrate some knowledge for what the heck he does.

So here are a couple of pictures (the first one is haphazardly, if not appropriately cropped):

Here’s our conversation:

“Hi, I’m Megan.”
“I’m Mutombo”

Me, thinking to myself: “You think?”

I asked Dikembe Mutomobo after we met if I could take my picture with him (really, I hate doing this, but my Cameroonian friend grabbed the camera and made me ask). After I asked, he paused, looked at my shirt and said in his incredibly deep voice, “Celtics?! I don’t know…..” Perhaps there was even a little finger wag, but I can’t say if I am just making that up because it sounds cool.

Anyways, he was super nice, and immediately switched to French as he spoke to my friend. In addition to his athleticism, this Congolese Georgetown alum speaks speaks about nine languages and has garnered many accolades for vast efforts in philanthropic endeavors. People like him make me wonder, what am I doing with my life?

Other photos:

Nykesha Sales, former WNBA Player (we thought the female athletes were cooler!)

My friend Gaelle, excited to meet her fellow countryman Luc Mbah a Moute (Milwaukee Bucks)

Tamika Raymond, another WNBA player, now Assistant Coach at Kansas University

Hasheem Thabeet, from Tanzania. He’s only 7’3, now playing for Memphis and was 2nd pick overall. This kid is 23 years old!

The reception was packed, and although I felt stupidly superficial for wanting to engage people just because they were “famous”, I’m definitely glad I had the opportunity to attend. As for my cheat sheet? Some of my co-workers first laughed when I unfolded my list to look up Danilo Gallinari’s name (he was the only white player there), but you can bet that soon enough they were coming back over to me for further consultation:

“Who’s that?”
“That’s Ronny Turiaf. He was born in Martinique, he just got traded to the Knicks from Golden State.”

As we were about to leave, Mutombo walked by me. He stopped and shook my hand again- looking at my jersey (I was the only one sporting NBA gear). He shook his head and smiled:

“Good night, even though you like the Celtics…”

You know, NHL players have done charity work in Africa. I wonder if I can get them to come to Dakar. I’ve got my Bruins jersey ready to go, and no cheat sheet will be needed for that function.