Well, family...I'm here, sitting in Japan, and suddenly realizing how much I like it. Before, it was a huge cloud of uncertainty that loomed over my head, and man, I wasn't sure if it was gonna hit me with acid rain. But I'm good! Still solitary as always, but at least I have a reason this time.

Japan is not as "amazing" as most people say. I think most white people say that because, despite all their arguments to the contrary...they are used to being the norm. So when they get here and get gawked at or treated differently...it's a mind opening experience! Meanwhile, to me, it feels like every new place I've ever entered. People don't know what to think of me, they're strangely enamored by my oddities, and...some of them fear me. Normal day in America for a 6'6" tower of goofy blackness.

And no, Japan is not pretty at first. In anything but the largest cities, Japan is actually quite ramshackle. It reminds me of the trips I would take between West Palm Beach and Tarpon Springs, Florida. Farmland, old houses, bright lights, ghettos, broken streets, stretches of shopping plazas and liquor stores. Strange vending machines and factories littered the journey. But this was spaced out over 224 miles. Imagine all those things crammed into 20 miles…and then duplicated for 400 miles. That’s Japan. The biggest hodgepodge of bad civil planning I’ve ever seen. It really looks like a ghetto where no one gets shot, sells drugs, or…well, no one’s black. It’s beautiful in that sense (no, not the lack of black people...so shut up) It has the strange charm I’ve always felt from the ghetto, but without the broken beer bottles, stench of gasoline or the rhythm of gunshots. I feel like I’ve been here before…

But what made it prettier was this: Today I started at my junior high school. And...tell Daddy this...I helped coach the basketball team. Everyday since I've gotten here, I've gotten the same questions, in this order.

"How tall?"
"You tall as Michael Jordan?"
"Basketball? You basketball?"
"Can you dunk shoot?"

Yes, in Japan, it's "dunk shoot". And yes, I can...with a little warm up. The knees are still a bit...messed up. But during school today, I wandered into the gym, and happened to make a leap for the rim...in my work clothes. The entire gym froze...and the cheered.

"Dunk shoot! Dunk shoot! PLEASE!!!!"

I just chuckled and told them I couldn't. Not now. Wrong clothes. But later, the basketball coach asked me to come out and watch the boys basketball club. So, seein' as I happened to have my basketball clothes with me...I went out there, and sot around for a bit. Daddy...nothing you've taught me has worn off. Nothing. I was sinking three pointers with ease.

But, as I looked over at the sidelines, there was one kid with an injured hand, dribbling rather awkwardly. Something about his stance and demeanor reminded me of...me. He was a kid who wanted to play, but no one seemed to take him seriously. So, I walked and showed him three things.

1. Dribbling drills. Simple crossovers and figure 8 dribbling through the legs.
2. How to always watch your opponent while dribbling.
3. The proper shooting technique that my father taught me, and wrist strengthing drills.

I stayed with him for a while, because he was having a hard time with it. But he was improving...quickly. And was very happy about it. I left him to his own devices for a while, until the coach challenged me to a free throw contest...which I won. But, I then looked at my new friend, and told him to take a shot. He looked at me with a lot of fear in his eyes, but complied. Nervously, he walked up to the foul line, and mimicked my preparation bounce for bounce. And then...he shot. On his first try, nothing but net. The whole team went crazy. They were asking him to teach them how to shoot and dribble. Teachers were cheering and patting him on the back. I've never seen a kid smile that big before, and I don't think I've smiled that big before either. We beat them. I don't know who we beat...but we beat them.

After practice, I returned to my test, worn out, only two find that the staff had given me two huge muffins and two small cartons of milk to thank me for my actions. Two champions left that school that night, and to both of us, Japan seemed a lot prettier.

Thanks, Daddy...I don't know if I would've been able to feel that good without ya.

D