Balkan basketball
On Saturday I finally managed to experience live pro Balkan basketball, perhaps the most popular sport in the country. I have no idea how basketball migrated from North America to the Balkans and only a few other isolated regions in the world -- I know only that players from the former Yugoslavia are perhaps the best on the globe outside of America, and that there is a respectable regional league that even attracts some decent American players (although you are only allowed two foreigners per team).
Bosna, the local team, absolutely dominated a team from a Serbian town whose name now escapes me. The atmosphere of the match was part European soccer and part Roman Coliseum. While the spirited crowd constantly chanted and sang in unison, waving their burgundy scarves, they also howled in anger and anguish at every turnover or bad call, sending incredible streams of profane abuse at the targets of their displeasure (I recognized just about every Bosnian curse I've learned so far). At one point, after a series of horrendous calls by the official, they began to shower the court with junk and chanted (according to my translating friend) "Gypsy! Gypsy! Gypsy!" This cheer came up more than once.
I also learned the lyrics to some of the rousing fight songs. The most popular one, for example, goes: "Yugoslavia, Yugoslavia! Suck our dicks! And fuck you too! Bosnia can do without you!" (Serbia is often called Yugoslavia nowadays) Of course, in Bosnian the song rhymes, making it sound pleasant and melodic to the tourist ear. Another piece of poetry: "Oh Serbia, Serbia, no one can hate you like we do! Fuck you and go home!" As my Bosnian friend Haris proudly explained, "That's just how we do it in the Balkans, man. We're hardcore!"
Another fascinating wrinkle: not unsurprisingly, you are permitted to smoke in the stadium. In fact, it is technically forbidden, but even the security guards were puffing away. By the end of the game, a small cloud can be observed hovering over the court, no doubt helping the athletes reach new peaks of physical conditioning. Once I find a place in Bosnia where people actually do not smoke, I will immediately report it here, for it would indeed be a momentous discovery worthy of a medal. (My friend who was in the hospital complained that his roomate, an old coughing man, smoked all night long!)
Bosna, the local team, absolutely dominated a team from a Serbian town whose name now escapes me. The atmosphere of the match was part European soccer and part Roman Coliseum. While the spirited crowd constantly chanted and sang in unison, waving their burgundy scarves, they also howled in anger and anguish at every turnover or bad call, sending incredible streams of profane abuse at the targets of their displeasure (I recognized just about every Bosnian curse I've learned so far). At one point, after a series of horrendous calls by the official, they began to shower the court with junk and chanted (according to my translating friend) "Gypsy! Gypsy! Gypsy!" This cheer came up more than once.
I also learned the lyrics to some of the rousing fight songs. The most popular one, for example, goes: "Yugoslavia, Yugoslavia! Suck our dicks! And fuck you too! Bosnia can do without you!" (Serbia is often called Yugoslavia nowadays) Of course, in Bosnian the song rhymes, making it sound pleasant and melodic to the tourist ear. Another piece of poetry: "Oh Serbia, Serbia, no one can hate you like we do! Fuck you and go home!" As my Bosnian friend Haris proudly explained, "That's just how we do it in the Balkans, man. We're hardcore!"
Another fascinating wrinkle: not unsurprisingly, you are permitted to smoke in the stadium. In fact, it is technically forbidden, but even the security guards were puffing away. By the end of the game, a small cloud can be observed hovering over the court, no doubt helping the athletes reach new peaks of physical conditioning. Once I find a place in Bosnia where people actually do not smoke, I will immediately report it here, for it would indeed be a momentous discovery worthy of a medal. (My friend who was in the hospital complained that his roomate, an old coughing man, smoked all night long!)
posted by Sam at 4:51 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home