Pro-ballers Overseas: No Holds Barred

Foreword

As in most sports and indeed in the case of many professions within the wider entertainment genre, only a handful of individuals can lay claim to having made it to the elite level.

The number of so-called ‘A-listers’ who live the glorious dream remains miniscule with basketball no exception. There are of course a select few who are fortunate enough to make it in the NBA or can revel in being idolized overseas when competing in a top level competition such as the Euroleague.

In most of the above scenarios, a not insignificant amount of talent and hard work is usually the main thrust behind attainting success although it is often supported by a healthy dose of luck and a knack of being able to take opportunities when they arise.

For the bulk of other basketball players out there (which is still a relatively tiny percent-age of those who aspire to turn pro) they find themselves not able to enter this V.I.P. section. Instead, they continue vying to live a different type of dream which while perhaps offering slightly less in the way of worldwide fame and fortune, still provides the chance of being paid to play the game they love.

These pro-ballers get the opportunity to travel the world, experiencing and adapting to different cultures off the court, while also honing their skills on the floor and adjusting to the basketball nuances of each country and their respective pro-leagues.

This beautifully rich and diverse world we live in means that those who do make it as pro-ballers have tales to tell from every corner of the globe. From tears of joy, to tears of pain and from elation to depression - playing pro-ball overseas can be a life changing experience. In many cases, it has turned boys into men both on and off the court.

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Of course hundreds of players try to succeed as pro-ballers overseas and don’t ever make it. They struggle to adjust to this fundamental change in their lives and at times aren’t prepared for what can be an overwhelming challenge.

Thousands more sit back home having to endure the crushing disappointment of leaving College and much to their despair, not even getting a sniff of an offer from a pro-club overseas.

There is no user guide anyone can give to a College baller wanting to turn pro. But, by consuming the experiences of those who have made the transition (albeit with varying degrees of success), it’s at least possible to have an appreciation of what lies beneath – both good and bad since it isn’t always like it says in the brochure.

This book brings you a flavor of what pro-ballers have experienced during their time overseas – perhaps most crucially, in their own words. It will probably leave you under no illusions that being a pro- baller overseas can sometimes mean more guts than glory, more grunge than glamour.

I feel truly blessed to have been asked by Marek Wojtera of eurobasket.com to tease out the highlights for you. I am of course also truly grateful to all of the bloggers who have put their heart and soul into giving us a wonderful no holds barred account of their life overseas. Although we must never lose sight that we don't have the views of clubs, agents, leagues and the fans as we take a look through the sometimes biased and predominantly one-sided eyes of these pro-ballers

Enjoy.

Paul Nilsen, Freelance Basketball Writer/Broadcaster Europe Pro-ballers Overseas: No Holds Barred

Contents (by countries)

Australia (Ivan McFarlin) p 203-204 Belgium (Timothy Black) p 168-170 Brazil (Edward Basden) p 198-199 China (T.J.Bannister) p 188-189 Costa Rica (Ben Batory) p 5-9 Cyprus (Benjamin Raymond) p 90-94 Cyprus (Joel Jones) p 113-115 Czech Rep. (Corey Muirhead) p 41-47 Denmark (Durell Vinson) p 160-163 Estonia (Casey Archibald) p 103-106 Estonia (Matthew Hall) p 118-124 Finland (Corey Belser) p 116-117 Finland (Jared Newson) p 186-187 France (Brent Petway) p 149-151 FYR Macedonia (Brandon Cole) p 58-64 FYR Macedonia (Nick Stallings) p 155-157 Germany (John Bynum) p 101-102 Greece (Warren Carter) p 68-70 Greece (Jimmy Baxter) p 178 Holland (Matt Bauscher) p 48-53 Holland (Glenn Stokes) p 171-174 Holland (Frank Turner) p 192 Holland (Tyrone Sally) p 217-218 Hungary (Chad Timberlake) p 107-109 Hungary (Louis Hinnant) p 110-112 Hungary (Curtis Marshall) p 175-177 Hungary (Josh Wilson) p 225-231 Ireland (Ben Batory) p 9-15 Italy (Ross Schraeder) p 78-79 Japan (Brandon Cole) p 64-67 Japan (Tyler Smith) p 95-100 Japan (Randy Holcomb) p 190-191

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Kuwait (Joel Box) p 195-197 Kuwait (Chuck Bailey) p 205-207 Lebanon (Chudney Gray) p 214-216 Malta (Ben Batory) p 15-19 Mauritius Islands (Ben Batory) p 19-24 Palestine (Jamal Ward) p 184-185 Palestine (Jeremy Schreiber) p 208-209 Palestine (Jamal Walker) p 210-211 Palestine (Jimmy Williams) p 212-213 Romania (Chris Terrell) p 200-202 Saudi Arabia (Ryan Holmes) p 193-194 Slovak Republic (Flinder Boyd) p 71-77 Slovak Republic (Louis Johnson) p 127-128 South Korea (Aaron Haynes) p 129-133 Spain (Ross Schraeder) p 78-86 Spain (Charles Ramsdell) p 136-145 Turkey (KZell Wesson) p 25-36 Ukraine (Lamar Karim) p 56-57 Ukraine (Ramel Curry) p 158-159 Ukraine (Andrew Washington) p 219-224 United Kingdom (Steve Dagostino) p 54-55 Uruguay (Brandon Brown) p 125-126 Various (Ricardo Marsh) p 38-40 Various (Joshua Gomes) p 87-89 Various (Mychal Kearse) p 134-135 Various (Larry O'Bannon) p 146-148 Various (Benjamin Dewar) p 152-154 Various (Marcus Sessions) p 164-165 Various (Dusty Rychart) p 166-167 Various (Alton Mason) p 179-183

Pro-ballers Overseas: No Holds Barred

Ben Batory (188-PG) Amherst College Costa Rica - Ireland - Malta - Mauritius Islands - Switzerland

Looking Back: Anecdotes On "Pro" Basketball And Life Abroad...

On the morning of September 11th, 2001, I was at my desk working as an equity trader with a midtown Manhattan hedge fund. It was roughly two years prior that I had hung up my "professional" basketball sneakers, having played my last game in Switzerland. Our trading desk had just hung up from a conference call with some folks on the 105th floor of the first tower, and we'd soon find out that they were hit directly. That day was a swirl of emotions for me; some traumatic, some confused, but almost all bad. About the only thing positive I can remember feeling that day was the warmth and genuine concern conveyed in those first few emails to hit my inbox post 8:46am. One from Ireland, one from Malta and one from Mauritius - all asking if I was okay.

So, how does all this relate to basketball? Let me explain. There's a Phil Jackson quote that sums up my feelings on the sport of basketball best. In his book ‘Sacred Hoops’, Jackson, ever the basketball philosopher, says, "Not only is there more to life than basketball, there's a lot more to basketball than basketball." For me, basketball overseas was about finding out if that statement was true.

I never had delusions of grandeur when I set out to play for a pay-check. I knew I was not NBA material - that much was

6 obvious. But, I knew that I could use basketball to achieve a set of life experiences that few are lucky enough to have. I knew it could take me places and gain me entry as a local, rather than a tourist, as a neighbor rather than as a visitor. And, that makes all the difference.

So, my goal was two-fold: Firstly, to maximize my physical ability to get the absolute most that I could out of my own potential. And yes, as a six-foot, relatively slow jump-shooter, that was already asking a lot. And secondly, I simply wanted to use basketball as my passport to cultural and geographical exploration. I wanted to see whatever I could of the world, and to soak it all in.

It started in Costa Rica. I had patiently waited by my phone after graduation the prior year, but suitors were few and far between. To make my plan work, I was going to have to take some leaps of faith and try to make something happen on my own. Via an obscure league in Costa Rica, I eventually got my foot in the door. I played for the Universidad de Inter Americana club, and my coach was a hustler named Francisco, who was excited by the sparkling white-skinned ‘gringo’ that had landed on his doorstep. We played our games in the Gimnasio Nacional in La Sabana Park, San Jose. The basketball was surprisingly good with great athletes, (although not much size) who had an excellent work ethic and attitude – or at least on my team.

Three good stories jump to mind when I think back to that league. Firstly, Costa Rica at the time was basically split into three parts: the west coast, the east coast, and San Jose. The east coast was considered quite rough and mostly Caribbean in culture, whereas the capital and the west coast were more culturally Hispanic. Pro-ballers Overseas: No Holds Barred

One of my first games was in Limon, a rugged and industrial east coast town. The bus nervously circled under dim yellowed street-lighting in what looked like vacant waterfront buildings as we looked for the unmarked gym. I felt like I was in some kind of Far East fighting competition, looking for the back alley that leads to the hidden venue. We finally found it, and were escorted to a locker room that was slightly subterranean. It was below street level and just under the side of the building. Looking up through the grates, which offered the only ventilation, we could see the sidewalk above. Of course, the grates offered more than just ventilation - they apparently also allowed the little kids in the town to either pee or spit down at visiting teams! It was pretty funny to see my team-mates jump out of the way when the first stream of water came down. I am just glad I was sitting across the opposite wall.

That game, by the way, was one of the toughest I have ever played in. The local refs swallowed their whistles and it was clear to me that cable TV - someway, somehow - had made it to the rough industrial town of Limon. Every opposing player was wearing bagging shorts, short socks, and wagged their tongues while dunking in warm-ups (which is legal in international ball). In other words, they had seen Michael Jordan play. And for these skinny, long-limbed, big-shorted, tongue-waggers, it looked to me like all of Jordan's dunks were easy for these guys. I knew we'd be in for a rough night, but as the more experienced and better organized ‘big city’ team, we pulled out the win. After our locker room experience, though, no one showered afterwards! It was on the bus quickly and "let's get out of here!"

It’s worth noting that the driving in Costa Rica is, well, um - insane. Essentially, the roads are curved around mountains

8 and rain forests, windy and elevated. We usually took an old school bus to games and on one of my first road trips, we all fell asleep on the midnight drive back to San Jose. As the nervous ‘new guy,’ perhaps too well versed on the mortality rate on Costa Rican roads (highest in the world at the time, or so I had read), I stayed awake.

And, with the bus snoring in peace, I saw something that almost had me jumping out of my seat. The grizzled old bus driver was repeatedly sticking his entire torso out the window - all the way out to his waist! I think, in order to both stay awake and also to see around bends to avoid advancing cars! I was freaked out and started to fidget in my seat. Were we about to die? Was this normal? Should I wake everyone up? Is this guy crazy? Somehow my squirming woke up Francisco who in classic ‘island-cool’ style, (like the Jamaican guy dozing on the street corner), barely rose his head from his crossed-arm dozing before opening just one eye after spotting my panic before cackling in broken English, "Don't worry, this is just how he drives. We haven't died yet." I nodded along and calmed down slightly - at least on the outside. But I never slept on any road-trip in Costa Rica. I kept a close eye on Jose the bus driver instead. Wouldn't you? I always still wonder if that guy is still out there somewhere, navigating his bus around volcanic mountain tops, in the beautiful cloud rain forests surrounding San Jose.

The second thing worth mentioning was our practice facility. It was basically an old barn with a painted concrete floor. When it was normal weather, the huge sliding barn doors on each side stayed open. And when it rained, they were pulled closed. But that's not the interesting part. About half way through my first practice, I noticed two things, both at roughly the same time. The first was that the floor was getting Pro-ballers Overseas: No Holds Barred exceedingly slippery since the combination of humidity and sweat droplets on painted concrete did not exactly lend itself to solid footing and traction. Quite the opposite in fact! It was more like playing on an ice rink in basketball sneakers. Basically we'd practice until we were pushing the limits of dangerous injury with regards to the floor and then we stopped. I thought "where the hell am I? This is basketball overseas?"

But that wasn't the best part. Around the same time the floor turned slippery, the ball turned sticky. How was that possible? I finally stopped, and was forced to make a close inspection. It turns out that over time - whether due to attraction to the lights or attraction to the sweat - the court would draw more and more ants and jungle bugs. Bouncing the ball killed the bugs, which left stickiness all over the ball. It was tiny dead ants!! Again, my team-mates had a good laugh over my surprise. It wouldn't be the first time...

After Costa Rica; I landed a contract in Ireland playing for the Dungannon club in County Tyrone, just outside Belfast in Northern Ireland. Unfortunately, I had severely sprained an ankle playing in a U.S. summer league before heading to Ireland in the September. Without ample time to heal, the injury nagged me for weeks and my play was sub-par. As a result, my time in Dungannon was short-lived and the team manager, Frankie O'Loane, released me six weeks after my arrival. It was a valuable lesson on the realities of professional sport - I had never been cut from any team in my entire life. It was a harsh experience, but at 23 years old, it helped me mature and it certainly toughened me up. And in the end, it proved to be a blessing.

After allowing my injury to heal, I was picked up by Marathon Limerick in the Republic of Ireland, where I played out the