The Rice Thresher

Location: http://the.ricethresher.org/sports/2007/12/07/french_basketball_experience

December 7, 2007 > Sports > You too, can have your very own Frenc basketball experience in your hometown

You too, can have your very own Frenc basketball experience in your hometown

By Dylan Farmer | Thresher Editorial Staff

So you want to have a French-style professional basketball game in your town? Well, lucky for you, in order to get rid of the stomachache I got from eating all that crow after my last column — stupid New England — I decided to check out the home opener for the Pau Orthez basketball team. During the game, I made a list of the nine must-haves for accurate French basketball re-enactment. Feel free to copy them for your own enjoyment:

  1. About 300 mostly-lethargic fans in attendance, with an enthusiasm level roughly equaling that of a Charlotte Bobcats home game. At the game I attended, the stadium was filled to about a twentieth of capacity, because apparently French teams don’t ask for a whole lot in terms of turnout.

  2. A hodgepodge ska/polka band dressed in green sequined vests and bowler hats (not matching the colors of either team). I could not tell if they were the official band, more enthusiastic than the average fans, or just lost. Whatever they were, they were entertaining. I think the MOB should adopt this look.

3a. An unidentifiable purple beaver/small bear/large rodent cross for a mascot with even less enthusiasm than the fans. It didn’t really have a personality of its own — it was more of a large brown fuzzy blob that occasionally did round-offs and awkward somersaults on the floor.

3b. An unidentifiable purple beaver/bear/large rodent cross for a mascot with no sense of accuracy. Every once in a while, the thing would come out onto the court with a huge slingshot and some wadded-up shirts, just like in some arenas in the States. However, the art of pinpoint shirt-slinging seemed to be a little out of his league. At least seven of the ten shirts he shot landed in the uninhabited second deck, and none of the others made it within 50 feet of the nearest spectator. Of course, the fact that there were about 30 seats between fans might have had something to do with it. But my favorite was the shirt that made it over my head in the nosebleeds, out the exit door, and into the concession stand/bar outside. I guess that might take skill to reproduce.

  1. No more than two cheerleaders in black, ’80s-era spandex, and preferably no older than 10 years old — for maximum awkwardness, not for anything perverted. These cheerleaders didn’t reveal any ability to do anything but skip — no gymnastics, no novelty shirt throwing, no jumping, nothing but skipping and clapping hands with all the grace of someone’s third-grade kid sister. 5. No more than one group of three angry men who, after quite a few beers, break out of their lethargy by yelling insults and obscenities at what seems to be every person in sight. Make sure you get the proper insults, too: “Vendu, l’arbitre!” (to accuse the referee of being paid off), “Vas te coucher!” (literally “go to bed,” but the slang usage is more along the lines of “you suck!”), and the heavyweight, “Quel encule!” (roughly translated as “&%!# that guy!”).

  2. German exchange students who like to talk about Dirk Nowitzki. That way, if you’re a Spurs fan like me, you have someone with whom to chat about how badly Dallas choked last year in the playoffs. However, you do have the risk of the conversation turning to David Hasselhoff. Don’t say I didn’t warn you …

  3. French students who like to talk about Tony Parker. With them, you can trash talk Dallas and Phoenix and chat about Eva Longoria at the same time. What’s not to like?

  4. A halftime show that resembles something from a Japanese game show. Be sure to start it with the traditional half-court shot and free throw contests, and then regress into weird games as quickly as possible. For example, our main source of entertainment was two guys connected by an elastic band. They had to score baskets on opposite sides of the court while attached, which proved to be more difficult than I thought it would be. One guy’s pants started sagging uncontrollably toward the end of the game, but he was more than willing to sacrifice his dignity for the winning shot. The other guy hit his head on the floor and didn’t get up. Eventually, the mascot had to drag him off the court by his leg to the sporadic applause of about 10 spectators. Like I said, weird.

  5. Finally, if your team loses, go on strike. It’s France, that’s how they do it.

So, I think that about covers it. I might think of some more things, in which case I’ll amend the column, but for now you should be able to accurately recreate an authentically trippy French basketball experience whenever you want. And just as a disclaimer, I’m not responsible for anyone injured by poorly-aimed souvenir shirts or sketchy halftime games.

Dylan Farmer is a Hanszen College junior and was a Thresher sports editor, but now he’s paying eight euros a game to see weird stuff like this. And he promises his family that he’s learning how to say more than profane street slang …

End of article

Back to top