BY STEVE SOLLOWAY | Naima Margan walked away from Carlos Boozer, leaving the very big man shaking his head.
“I can’t imagine. I really can’t,” said Boozer.
He had just learned that Margan was a 15-year-old native of Somalia. That she once called Mogadishu home. That she has no memories of laughter and play and peaceful times.
“You talk to her, you talk to any of these kids, and hear where they’re from and what it’s like growing up. You wonder how they do it.”
Boozer stood near some tall pines at the Seeds of Peace camp. A breeze played through the branches. Behind him was placid Pleasant Lake. At the camp gate, several Maine State Police cars were very visible. A trooper checked photo identification with names on a list before allowing visitors to enter.
Boozer is five years older than Margan. He grew up in Juneau, Alaska, playing basketball. He went to Duke. He was drafted last month by the Cleveland Cavaliers. His future is as bright as his potential. He has to wonder about the futures of the teen-agers he met Tuesday.
Boozer was one of several current and former NBA players at the camp for a two-day Play for Peace session. Antawn Jamison and Mike Dunleavy Jr. of the Golden State Warriors arrived with Boozer. So did Brent Barry of the Seattle Supersonics and B.J. Armstrong, the former Chicago Bulls player. They dribbled, passed and slam-dunked. They spun basketballs on their fingertips. They worked with the dozens of campers who tried to emulate them. Most of all, they listened to the laughter that filled the small, rustic gym.
They realized that a Palestinian laugh sounded exactly like an Israeli laugh and an American laugh. “That’s the way it is,” said Don Casey, the former NBA coach who accompanied the players and led some of the drills. “We call it mix and mingle. At the lowest levels, with the kids, it breaks down a lot of things.” Like hate and fear.
A year ago, Casey went to Bosnia with the blessing of the State Department. He ran clinics in Banja Luka, Tuzla and Sarajevo. Hundreds of children came. Casey was so wrapped up in his interaction with the young players, he didn’t notice, at first, the tears in the eyes of the younger State Department officials.
“They were quite emotional. This was the first time they had seen Serbs, Croats and Muslims passing the ball to each other, playing and having fun.”
The Balkans war had ended five years earlier. Casey has done clinics in Ecuador and Haiti, but it’s the images and memories from Bosnia that keep returning.
“In Bosnia, I found out who their favorite NBA player is. It’s Allen Iverson.”
Because Iverson fought his way out of bleak surroundings, the Bosnians can identify with him more than numerous NBA fans.
Casey is a friend of Arn Tellem, the sports agent. It was no coincidence that the NBA players at Seeds of Peace are all represented by Tellem, who was quietly very visible Tuesday. Tellem’s son is a camper this summer.
Working with the camp director, Tim Wilson, it was decided that the summer after Sept. 11 would be a good time to bring Boozer and the others to Maine. That this is also the summer of anger and tears, occupied villages and bombings in Israel may have been another reason. Maybe Iverson’s recent court appearance also had something to do with the visit.
The media, from ESPN to the New York Times, was well represented Tuesday. Maybe it was time, even in this small way, that the Brent Barrys be pointed out to the rest of us. Wilson wanted players with character, players who could give back easily. Like Barry, putting his arm around a camper who dribbled the basketball as if it were a foreign object. Like Jamison, walking slowly down a camp road with several boys after lunch. The star was doing more listening than talking. Like Armstrong, flashing his effervescent smile at anyone who came near. Like Boozer, talking with Naima Margan and learning she now lived in Portland.
“These players haven’t been together like this before,” said Casey. “This is all new to them. It’s not a meet and greet at the mall.”
“I’ve worked summer basketball camps before,” said Boozer. “We all have. But I’ve never been at a camp like this, where basketball is secondary.”
Where kids are just trying to be kids, even as they try to forget the sounds of guns and bombs and the weeping for those brothers or fathers or sisters who won’t be coming home.
“We have to do this over there,” said Casey. “Bring the kids there, together. And not a one-and-done deal, either. We need to go back every other year. Basketball can bring down the barriers. “I know it can.”