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Dateline: Dakar, Senegal, 27 Sep

Tangosz here! For the next few weeks I'll be your intrepid reporter of all things U21 team USA in the last part of the World Championships. Yesterday I was sitting at my desk, savoring a bit of hakarl (Bourdain, you're weak!), when the phone rang, breaking my rotten shark meat reverie. It was Coach Rambo, asking how quickly I could get over to Senegal, to help cover the remaining USA U21 team games. With the USA entering the 2nd round as one of the top 8 teams, and having never been to Africa, I jumped at the chance.

So after a quick trip to the doctor for some malaria pills and shot of who knows what in the buttocks, I hopped aboard a flight to Dakar (note to self, don't get a needle in the backside right before sitting on a crappy airline seat for hours on end), and exiting the Senghor International Airport to the hot, dusty streets of the capital of Senegal.

Hailing a cab, I proceeded deep into the city like some modern day Marlow. Sadly I was waylaid by the intransigent traffic, and missed the end of the game. The results were clear though from the chants of "U-S-A U-S-A" that rang forth from the milling crowd.

Showing my press pass at the entrance, I headed straight to the German team lockerroom, eager to catch a few words from the losing team before they retired to their team hotel. I had prepared some hard hitting questions that I needed to get the answers to.

First I headed straight up to the big German center, Michael-Helmut Koeller (16579652), who had flagrantly fouled Mike Merrill, injuring him for the rest of the game. He towered over me, like the scary product of some former East German "trainer."

"Michael-Helmut, is it now the time on Sprockets when we dance?"

"Was?"

Clearly not getting anywhere with this one (perhaps his physical "enhancements" were hurting his mental faculties), I hopped away, "you'll never liebe mein affe-monkey!"

Next up I headed to the locker of Roman-Paul Perlwitz-Märtens (16581247), who after Merrill's departure had gashed the USA for 20 points, leading his team in scoring.

"Is there any truth to the rumor that you and your teammates are blocking a hypen and name bailout package for Greece? What is it with you people? "

"Was?"

My work there done, I headed over to the USA lockerroom. Coach Rambo was standing at one end, arms folded across his chest, a torn red, white and blue cloth tied around his head, big survival knife on his thigh. Across from him guards Laverne Goddard (16437910), Jimmy Brown (16436514) and Jarvis Carlson (16443435) were high fiving and laughing. Goddard was holding the game ball, clearly proud of his well earned achievement. In another corner sat the injured Merrill (16433183), ice on both knees.

"How'd it feel to have to sit for most of the game, even after being so unusually ready to play this week?" I asked. The big center didn't answer, gave me an odd look, and I didn't feel right to press him. (Note to self: Check if Merrill is deaf-mute. Why else wouldn't he be happy to answer what was perhaps my best question to date).

Next to Merrill sat the newly appointed Wilson Battle (16439603), a huge bag of ice perched on his crotch. Scanning the play by play of the game, I saw no note of a injury to the American small forward.

"What happened Wilson? Did you get hit during the game, or after?"

Battle looked quickly over at Coach Rambo, and murmured, "oh, nothing really, must have walked into something I guess." At that moment Rambo cracked his knuckles. Jotting it down on my reporter's pad, I nodded. "Walked into something, ok, gotcha. Great game Wilson." Ignoring the cross-eyed look he gave me, I headed to the press work room, to file my first report from Dakar.

Next, onto France. "Hmm, well if the transitive property holds, I reckon we can beat the French. Cause the Germans always do

Last edited by Tangosz at 09/27/2011 12:12:50

Hahaha! Great write-up

Also check out my weekly review where I try to make sense of what the games mean: (186821.29)

You want us to do this together? I'm all for it.

Dakar, 3 Oct

Again it is I, Tangosz, your humble eyes and ears on the streets of Dakar! Though I must say that your eyes are beset by voracious insects, and your ears are burned by the equatorial sun, and wow aren't you happy back in the comfort of your team offices, replete with air conditioning.

Nevertheless, I press on; these USA U21 games will not get covered themselves, andpeople need to know the story beyond the box score. I hope you did see the game, because I visited the Grand Mosque in Dakar just a tad too long, and only arrived after the game. The familiar chants of "U-S-A, U-S-A", greeted me as I entered Aziz Arena.

At that point I decided to head straight to the loser's lockerroom, eager to catch the French coach and players before they left the site of their defeat. I had put in extra time preparing, mainly listening to Rush's Bastille Day a few hundred times while chugging bottles of Perrier. I figured I had a laser accurate bead drawn on the targets of my questions.

I paused as I came upon a bulky lady attending to the visitor's lockerroom (Note to self: have you ever seen a woman with such a neatly trimmed beard? Eye patch to boot?). In my moment of reflection, she pushed her laundry cart through a door labeled "Coach", and I moved on to find my target: Jean-Charles Pradier.

Rolling my eyes as I penned another hyphen in a first name, I asked him, "Place the following in order of importance to France: Napoleon, Cardinal Richelieu, Inspector Clouseau, and Jerry Lewis. Who would make the best U21 coach? Please support your argument with historical sources." I placed a blue book (both made in the USA, take that!) in his hand, ignored the dumb look, and moved on to Pascal Brevet.

The French shooting guard had led his team in scoring with 21 points, but I didn't have any questions about the baskets he'd made. I had another question in mind. "So Pascal, when exactly did you know you missed that 3 point shot you took with 22 seconds to go in the game?"

The Frenchman looked about to start fisticuffs with yours truly, but his angered fist was stopped as we heard a shriek from the rear office. The door flew open, and the washer lady, her beard (still trimmed, no longer neat) and her eye patch (slightly askew) ran out. As she escaped out the door of the lockerroom, another sound came from the doorway.

"Sacre bleu, but I must 'ave you!" The man's oversexed Gallic features glistened with sweat. "Liberte, fraternite, I am hornite!" At that, he chased after the poor woman.

The French players shrugged and got back to packing their stuff. I headed to the victor's lockerroom. The celebration was in full swing. To pull out a crucial victory, with less effort as their opponents, buoyed the spirits of the USA team. As usual, Coach Rambo stood with his arms crossed, surveying his team. Jarvis Carlson on one side, his injured elbow in a bucket of ice, still enjoying the team's win.Three big men stood joking at the other end. Mike Merrill and Terrance Hammond (gameball tucked under one long arm) were reliving their last moment assist and dunk, while Wilson Battle, more at ease after his improved game, laughed along.

The only person who didn't look thrilled was Kenny Luther. Kenny had 7 assists in the win but he racked up 4 fouls, and missed two late free throws that would have iced the game. He was also a oddly dressed, wearing a prominent athletic supporter and cup (outside of his shorts), knee pads, and a pair of safety goggles.

"I like the look Kenny, nice. Channelling your inner Kareem, well done. How's the skyhook?"

Kenny looked towards Rambo, his hands drawn to cover his crotch. "Um, sky hook, yeah, inner Kareem. You got it."

I wandered off, scribbling notes in my notebook. As I exited, I heard the crack of a snapped towel, Kenny's scream, "If you miss those goddamned free throws again..."

"Rambo sure does know how to use positive reinforcment."

Last edited by Tangosz at 10/04/2011 16:39:41

Brilliant write ups, Tangosz!

Funny with a ring of truth that I can't picture any Frenchman picking Jerry Lewis lower than 2nd on that list.

Thanks fewmit!

Yeah, I'm thinking Jerry goes right before the Cardinal, and slightly after the Emperor.

And Clouseau would be up there, but no self-respecting Frenchman would admit it. I mean, he was played so brilliantly by an Englishman.

Tangosz here, humble correspondent of all things USA U21. I apologize for the late updates, and the complete absence following the victory over Brazil. Circumstances here in Africa have gotten..challenging..and I seem to be sufferring from multiple ailments. I mean there's this terrible itch, and it hurts when I go...Well, I am not here to list my aches and pains. I am here to report on the progress of the USA U21 team!

This previous Monday saw the final game in the 2nd round of the U21 Worlds, with the 4-2 USA team battling the 3-3 Italians. Now, this wasn't a must win for the Americans, as there were multiple scenarios where a modest loss was acceptable. Sadly, I find myself woefully unequipped to relate them to you, as thinking about all the permutations makes me crosseyed.

In the end, the Italians gave all the effort they had, while the Americans saved theirs, to use it in future games. It worked out well, for although the Americans lost by 18 points, their 4-3 record with +20 point differential allowed them to come through, making the Worlds Semifinals for only the 2nd time in team history!

After the completion of the game I headed straight to Italia's locker room.

I prepared just one of my signature, hard hitting questions to unleash on an unsuspecting interviewee. I walked up to PG Primo Bertocco, who had drained 26 points against the USA, helped by a strong 4 of 5 shooting from behind the 3 point line:

"So, if Silvio Berlusconi leaves Rome at 6:45 PM, travels 60 MPH for 1.25 hours, and a score of hookers who weigh on average 115 pounds (implants included!) leave their brothel at 7:15, traveling at 45 MPH, what time will they reach his villa, and how much money will he need to pay in bribes to stay Prime Minister?"

I never got an answer, as Bertocco's arm suffered a spasm, his fist narrowly missing my face. Hope that condition doesn't derail his promising career! Shrugging, I went to the USA lockerroom.

The mood was in good spirits, despite the loss. The team knew they had made it to the next round, and that there was plenty of energy left in the tank to make a run at the gold trophy. Coach Rambo looked pleased, though he seemed to look askance at me as I entered.

The players were mostly just hanging out, knowing that this was just one more step. Big men Mike Merrill (16433183) and Terrance Hammond (16442250), so instrumental in the USA's inside attack, were stretched out, and smirked at me when they saw me. For a moment I thought someone baa-ed like a sheep? That was odd.

Some of the US guards weren't as content as Merrill and Hammond though. Jimmie Brown (16436514) had had a poor day shooting, going just 3 for 16. He was armored himself the "Wilson Battle Cup," an athletic supporter/protector on the outside of his uniform shorts. PG Kenny Luther (16433258) had also had a subpar game, with 5 turnovers. He kept his backside to the wall, ever vigilant for the snap of the Coach's Towel.

"Hey Tangosz, how are you?" Kenny said as I approached. "You look a bit better than the last time we saw you!" He snickered as he said it.

"Last time? What do you mean?"

"No, don't you remember the post Brazil-game party? You looked pretty good in that feather headdress, channeling your best Carnival diva!"

The hazy memories flooded back. The gracious Brazilians had hosted the Americans to a churrascaria style feast, followed by plenty of liquor and dancing. I groaned.

I started to blush, turned to go, and bumped into Coach Rambo. "Don't miss another update," he uttered through gritted teeth. "And if you can't control yourself, I'll ban you from covering the team's postgame activities."

Shuddering, I returned to my hotel. I still had many questions. Like, why doI have this itch? I got all my shots. And why does my room smell like sheep? Never fear though my loyal readers! I will surely uncover all the facts, and you will be the first to know!