Implode

After a great 2 year experience in Townsville playing for the Crocs in the NBL, I decided I wanted another crack at the European leagues. To get my foot in the door with a few clubs for the following European season (which runs basically the same time as the NBL) I signed with a club in Italy called Virtus Bologna for 2 games at the end of their regular season as an injury replacement.

I was apprehensive about what I was getting into, and that was to be re-inforced big time on my first day there.

Got to the airport in Sydney and unfortunately the idiots organizing the tickets from Italy hadn't confirmed payment so there wasn't any seats left. It was brought to our attention that there were business class seats available. We got hold of the club and asked what they thought as this was the last flight out today it was pretty urgent. They told us it was their mistake so to do whatever we could to get normal seats first, if no luck book the business class. Obviously we did 'everything' in our power but in the end we just had no choice and booked business.

After a long but suprisingly comfy flight we got checked in to the hotel. It was a beautiful old classically european style building. We were considerably tired, but like is always the case in professional sport, once you have signed with a club and you are within reach, you are theirs. Hence a training was scheduled and I was to be there. I was more than a little apprehensive as I didnt feel like I would be at my best, but that didnt matter, I was to be there and on court in a couple of hours.

The manager (who was named 'Fabio') picked me up from the hotel for a health check/physical before training. What I didnt realise is that Italian basketball had recently brought in a rule that all newly signed players to the league must undergo a full physical. This included your usual pokes, prods and skin fold tests, not to mention the test where you need to run on a treadmill at an absurd angle with wires stuck to your head and chest. Cant think what this is called but I have only ever had it done twice and that is twice too many. You basically run until you almost pass out. Its to test your maximum lung capacity and to make sure your heart is in tip top condition so that the team can be sure they havent signed a physical dud. After I was given the all clear by the doc I had about an hour to prepare for practice. Enough time to totally cool down, stiffen right up and hope to hell it wasnt going to be tough.

I got into the training facility where all the team was already there. I immediately sensed a tension with everyone, not to say anyone was rude to me, but I could just feel something wasnt right with this team. Getting into a few brief chats with some of the players before training I instantly realised that everyone had already checked out mentally. They were just trying to get the last 2 games out of the way so they could go back to their home countries/cities. I learned that all but 2 players hadnt been paid for over 2 months (this is a common occurance in the crazy high stakes, fickle and cut-throat euro leagues) and that the team was most likely to be religated to the second division next year. There had been recent player sackings and the original coach wasnt there after he was replaced mid season by a 70 year old. This made me all the more confused why a team would fly Jem and I over there for 2 games, paying me decent money, when most of the team wasnt seeing a cent.

After an hour or so of individual work with the coaches we split into 2 teams for a scrimmage to help me learn the plays. It was all going well, I felt like I wasnt lagging in any way and living up to whatever expectations they had of me coming in. Suddently a bit of push and shove from one of the Italian players towards an afro/american French player started, which was quickly broken up. This turned into something astoundingly ridiculous. The French guy, not happy with this treatment walked over to the side of the court, grabbed a court wiper and started swinging it at the Italian guy connecting with his back. Then the jeriatric coach jumped in to try and break it up when his arm was smashed by the wiper. He screamed in agony. Both players were ushered off the court swiflty. Training was over. Later we found out that the French guy was not surpisingly sacked that evening.

What a first day!

We got to the game the next day to see the coach with his arm in a sling plastered up, obviously broken. Just an amazing initiation to an imploding team environment. The rest of my time there was no less tense, but the players seem to give the last two games a crack and to my memory I think we won one of them which definately lightened the mood a little.

For the record, Jem and I had a great time in Bologna, a beautifully historic and clean city. It was almost like a paid holiday for us, and yes I recieved all my money, in cash!