end of season dinner

tonight i took my team out for an end of the season dinner.  we went to a local place close to the sports palace.  i have been there a couple of times before and it has a great outside sitting area with trees, picnic tables and sports (mainly soccer) projected onto a movie theater size screen.  the outside area was closed (blame the late season snow for that one) so we sat inside.  i was a bit stressed about that at first at it seems every chain smoker in bishkek was there tonight... but much to my surprise they actually had a really nice, big non-smoking area.

i had volunteered to buy dinner for everyone (excluding alcohol as i knew going in how much vodka those guys could drink).  at first guys joked that they hadn't eaten in two days saving up for tonight.  i really through they were joking until everyone starting ordering.  i think we put away two cows and about ten sheep all on our own.

although i wasn't buying vodka... somehow bottle after bottle kept appearing on the tables (i am pretty sure that tolek had a case of it hidden in his russian man purse.

one thing i love about these guys is how respectful they are of my being "older" and the coach.  during the season no one ever let me carry anything - including my own bag - and tonight was no different.  guys ordered for me.  they served me my food.  and they kept pouring my vodka.  over and over and over.  but being the responsible guys that they are they made sure that one of the younger players - kanat - didn't drink so he could drive me home.

the thing one should know about russians (even most of the local kyrgyz still consider themselves russians or "soviets" at heart) is that you only drink vodka if someone is giving a toast.  and apparently an "end of season dinner" has to consist of everyone (there were 14 of us) giving at least two toast.  by beer number three and vodka shot number eight... i was pretending to drink each new shot but really i was pouring it out into a glass i had hidden under the table.  i am pretty sure that everyone knew what was going on but they were all too nice to say anything.  i was toasted for being a good coach - "even though we finished third".  i was toasted for being an american.  i was toasted for being so athletic and good looking (ok... i made that last one up).  we toast each other for being a strong team.  for funny things that happened during the season.  for not finishing in fourth place and in the hope of being better next year.

almost all of what was being said was being said in russian and although some of it was translated for my behalf - i couldn't really hear the translation of my own hiccups and the laughter of everyone.  but i didn't need a translation as i understood everything what was being said.  the guys like each other.  they liked me.  and they love playing basketball.

the evening was one of those times (which are becoming more  rare the longer we live here and the more we adjust to the way of life here) where i kept saying to myself - "wow... i am in central asia.  drinking vodka with a group of russians/kyrgyz.  and i am a professional basketball coach!" 

the only thing missing was my dad who would have thought it was pretty much the most perfect night in the whole world.  i can hear him saying "mercy" as he poured his shot of vodka into a glass under the table along side me.

kanat gave me a ride home in my car which worked out great as i was a bit tanked (olive... this isn't a story about being tanked... it is a story about a cultural experience your father when we lived in central asia).  the only problem was he had never driven a manual before (so i had to change the gears while he drove.  we stalled three times in the 2 miles it took to get home) and he was scared to death of boone (who had been in the car all evening and who insisted in riding shotgun with me on the way home).