Saturday Morning Hoops with the Bangladeshi State Police

So this began when I ran into my twin students’ father, Dan, as I was leaving the weight room at school. His son played basketball and I am currently coaching his daughter. I also play with Dan every once and a while on weekend mornings at the American club. He’s probably over 50 but he’s lanky and can still move pretty well. We have a similar sense of the game, and like to play with each other because, at least in my opinion, we both “play the game the right way.”

He told me that some guys from the embassy were going to play the Bangladeshi State Police (yes, the same police as the ones mentioned in the previous post) on Saturday morning if I wanted to come help out. I immediately answered in the affirmative, my mind scampering over possible images of a third world State Police team. I was pretty sure they would be fairly tall (most of the army and police force are much taller than the rest of the population) and in fine shape. Their skill level, on the other hand, was a complete unknown.
I was a little bit uneasy about the whole thing before I heard that the US ambassador would also be playing. When you are competing against the State Police in a country like Bangladesh, it pays to have a diplomat or two on the court with you. We were playing on their turf, and I didn’t want it to be a “the State Police never lose” scenario… even though we aren’t inmates, I couldn’t help think of The Longest Yard.

It turns out that the American Embassy participates in a few different sporting exhibitions with the State Police as a gesture of fellowship and goodwill. They stomped us in softball and cricket, and had challenged us to a game of hoops. Basketball is a truly American game in the minds of the Bangladeshi people, but they still thought they would beat us. The Friday before we played a official from the Bangladeshi Police called and told the Ambassador’s office that we might be in for a long morning.

We assembled at 8:45AM in the embassy parking lot, a somewhat rag-tag group of men in their thirties, forties and fifties, a stud Department of Defense attaché, a couple of AIS/D high school players and me. Most of them were people I had played with before. We were all excited to finally see our opponents in action.

The ten of us traveled in style in two white 14 passenger vans following the Ambassador’s BMW 755, which was sandwiched between two white SUVs with their siren’s blaring. With the motorcade acting as a fullback, busting through the chaotic Dhaka traffic, we reached our destination with little resistance. One of the people we were playing with gave me a half sheet of paper with our schedule printed on it. Over the course of the three and half hour program we were to play, then have some speeches and gifts, then a reception with tea. We had wondered how much pageantry was to be involved, and it appeared we would get our fill.
After about ten minutes of driving, I had no idea where we were. I realized then just how enormous Dhaka is, and how it all looks the same to me.

When we arrived at the police headquarters I understood this was going to be quite the affair. A covered area with plush seating extended along the whole left sideline, and behind the seating were some event tents where our reception would be. The concrete court was blue with red lines and the key was colored in red. On the right sideline were the two benches, with the scorer’s table in a covered area in the middle. On either baseline, and behind the State Police’s bench, a crowd was starting to gather. A noisy twelve-piece band rattled in the corner next to our bench, belting out national hymns.

The masters of ceremony for the event were a man and woman who had uncertain but exceedingly polite English. Right before we tipped off the ambassador (the “special guest”) made a speech entirely in Bangla, which really impressed me. It’s meaning was lost to me (although I could guess there were some general pro Bangladeshi-American relations remarks, as well as some jokes about being old/out of shape), but it got some laughs from the crowd.

As we were warming up, I analyzed our competition. Thoughts: no one under six feet, no one over 6’7’’; no one can shoot; everyone fit; a few dunkers. It must have looked like quite the lopsided contest during warm ups as the police’s crisp passes, high-flying lay ups and official uniforms contrasted with our older men, un-tucked, mismatching shirts and unorganized style. I was still pretty confident though, because I figured the police had never encountered the American style of play. We had planned to pack into a zone defense and force them to make outside shots, and I didn’t see anyone who looked like knocking down anything from deep.
The game began and after James swished an open mid range two pointer, I got loose for a three pointer and then drove past my defender for a floater on our next possessions. Like that we were up 7-0, eventually extending our lead to 30-14 by the end of the half. Our big men were able to keep them from getting offensive rebounds, and they were clearly unprepared for the amount of motion, passing and shooting that we brought on offense.

The police were extremely polite and had excellent sportsmanship. They occasionally vented their frustrations by yelling at each other, but for the most part everyone seemed happy just to be playing. As the game got going a crowd steadily grew around the roped off court, probably peaking at about 200 people. Our bench didn’t have any spectators behind it, instead we were flanked by five camouflaged men carrying Glocs and MP-5 machine guns to protect the Ambassador.

We took out our best players after the third quarter, leading 50-24 and ended up closing the game 55-44. The police made some adjustments and started trying to run-out after our shots to get lay-ups by throwing the ball over our out of shape, older team. Their tallest player managed to stuff in two slam dunks on fast breaks which sent the crowd into a frenzy. They were probably the highlights as far as exciting plays by either side. As the Inspector General of the Police Force said after the game “this was not exactly an NBA league match.”

After the match it was time for more photos of both teams together, just the Ambassador and the Police, just the Police, just the Americans, Americans holding the gifts etc. We each received collared t-shirts in festive metallic silver wrapping paper that read “For You On Your Wedding!” The shirts seem to be of pretty high quality, but the insignia is a bit mysterious. There are two players jumping towards a floating hoop, one laying the ball in, normal enough. However I am at a loss to explain the acronyms found on the uniforms of each team: DMP and APBN. I wracked my brain all day and consulted some of the people we played with, but could find no answers to the baffling letters. Each shirt was a triple extra large, so I don’t know how much wear its going to get. Yet it will serve as a symbolic reminder of the unpredictability and fun of this cultural exchange.