burhaniye has a girls' college basketball team. today we went to go watch them play.
i have been reading one of mo's books called The Red Queen which is about how attraction and sexual selection affected the evolution of the human body and mind. mo told me, and ugur overheard, that there is one girl on the team who gets all of the particular attention from boys, and who enjoys being the object of their attention. and did i want to be introduced? i declined to answer.
the game started at four. it was just ugur and me -- mo is in ankarra. we arrived early. friends as we are of the mayor (who also came to see), we went in through the side door, same as the players. ugur had to phone someone on her cell to get us past the man who was keeping just anyone from going in that way. as we got sorted a woman went through in front of us with a little girl in tow. the girl was bundled right up in a huge pink fuzzy scarf -- it was cold today. cute! i watched her go two steps in. then i saw her face light up and i followed her gaze way up and there was one of the players who'd seen and come over to say hi and who made big shining eyes -- must have been sisters or cousins or something -- and reflexively i smiled too and my stomach lifted and it dawned on me, oh yeah, there's gonna be girls here. and tall, which (i've read) signals reproductive fitness.
yes. when we got there the two teams were warming up already, running laps around their halves of the court, forwards and backwards and side to side. the gym was painted yellow and in the middle of the floor it said Burhaniye. the arena was mostly empty when we got there but quickly filled up. on the far wall hung banners that were a cross between the turkish flag and a portrait of Attaturk in a fez. twenty minutes before the game started they powered up the scoreboards and started playing music, R&B in turkish. the girls started their drills, shots from up close, from far, trapping rebounds, blocking, passing. layers started coming off as they got warmer. then more layers. they stretched. one girl was the stretchiest. the refs came on, one male and one female. they stood facing each other on the centre line as the start time drew near. they kept their whistles in their mouths the entire game.
last thing before the first jumptoss, two paramedics rolled in a stretcher and i thought, that's right -- these girls are gonna try to kill each other. the game began. to keep from getting called foul they'd hold their hands behinds their backs and try to shoulder into the other players. and one girl faked a shot right at the face of the girl who was blocking her, made her flinch. every now and then one of them would bite the dust. but then the player who knocked her over would often help her up. the refs blew their whistles like they were used to being in charge. they indicated penalties with abrupt hand gestures. the crowd went quiet for our foul shots, not so quiet for theirs. then the game would start again and you'd hear the shoes squeak on top of the noise of the crowd. someone had brought an airhorn, someone else a tambourine.
two teams of girls. lots of group dynamic. lots of hand touching. every shot they'd give a little five low down as the shooter headed back to home turf. every foul shot got one or two whether the shot was good or missed. coming on or off the court, again. the girls also touched bums. i swear i am not lying. and at time-out more than one of them used the same towel to wipe their glistening bodies, their heaving chests.
i had to ask. number eleven, ugur told me.
i'd guessed number thirty-three. but somehow number thirty-three did not leave the bench the entire game (i closely watched).
our team did not win. there was a moment when i thought we might close the gap, but we did not. the game was over after forty minutes of play. i do not know what happened after the girls left the court to head for the showers. i decline to speculate.
