http://208.106.217.153/articles/history09/history09_26.shtmlU.S. “Team” in Trinidad
C.S. Boggan—that’s Christopher Scott—will tell us about (TTT, Nov.-Dec., 1978, 10; 16) his adventures in Trinidad-Tobago with his U.S. teammates (Horace Roberts, Mike Bbush, David Philip, and latecomer Charles Butler). On their Nov. 1st evening arrival at the airport outside Port-of-Spain, Horace, Mike, David, and Scott were met by T.T. officials, including the National Association’s President, Victor Cowan, and “went through customs by-passing a long line of glum-faced Americans”—a perk for visiting athletes of stature. Then, says Scott, “I was a passenger with Cowan, and in his zeal to point out some local scenery nearly got me killed driving to the University of the West Indies where we’d all be put up for the night at some guest houses.” After this, there was a quick run-in to Port-of-Spain “for some Trinidadian cuisine—Kentucky Fried Chicken.”
“For two hours next morning, the U.S, players shared the practice venue with a good many schoolboys and girls in blue and gray uniforms who ran back and forth about the place while we hit balls. Afterwards, we went back to our rooms to shower—which we’d be doing quite often throughout our stay because of the over 90 degree weather.”
“Later, while the players were eating lunch, an important Trinidadian official was talking about some of the T & T players who’d recently come to New York—but not for table tennis. ‘The only balls they played with there were their own.’ Can you imagine a U.S. table tennis official saying this?”
“We didn’t have much of a laugh though when we found out that the Trinidad Giants Club players…had decided to boycott the matches. Indeed, the Caribbean Champ, the great Mansingh Amarsingh himself, was refusing to play because the T & T TTA would only give him $10 ($4 U.S.) expense money per day.” On hearing this, Bush talked to a local reporter “about how he personally wanted to challenge Mansingh for any amount of money—said, if need be, he’d wire home to get, say, $5,000.”
“Late that afternoon we took the hour’s drive to St. Ann’s where we were to play the first of our Goodwill Team Matches. On this particular Thursday evening, there was some kind of candle celebration, or funeral observance, or both, for there were candles everywhere. We arrived at the Chinese Association Hall without mishap—though on the way I was to see more than a few dead dogs along the rather narrow roads. There at the Hall awaiting us was our other team member Charles Butler. ‘The But’ had not been able to leave LaGuardia with us the day before because he hadn’t a passport, and was here now only because after a frantic call to the State Department he was able to hurry into New York City and get one.”
“We were introduced to everyone, shook hands with American Ambassador Fox, heard both national anthems, exchanged pins with our opponents, and were ready to start….Bubba, who’d just gotten off an 8-hour flight, won his opening exhibition, and then first up in the Team’s, played to a best five-out-of nine Swaythling Cup format, was Bush against Gordon Delf, who we later all agreed was the best man on this team.”
“To get ourselves psyched up against these turkeys, we said, ‘We’ll crush them!’…‘Yeah,’ someone said, ‘6 and 8.’…Bush, however, did not crush Gordon Delf 6 and 8. On the contrary—he lost deuce in the 3rd…after blowing a 20-17 match-point lead. Were the U.S. players to have had towels over their faces, it would not have been to hide their embarrassment, or their tears—rather it would have been to stifle their laughter. Thereafter ‘D. P.’ and I took two matches each, while poor Bush did manage to win, in a close three games, his next time up.”
“The spectators during our matches were just great. Like the wind coming into the Hall that repeatedly blew down the barriers, they would hiss, howl, yell, scream, and whistle not only in between matches or in between points but during the actual play itself. I think they even had at least some say as to how any umpire called a match. During the break after my first game I swear I heard one spectator tell the ump I had to throw up the ball more—and then no sooner did I walk up to the table than I heard the umpire say, ‘Let’s see some air under that ball, mahn.’ The spectators would also laugh at you—for instance, if you intentionally or unintentionally did something funny, like miss your own high-toss serve.”
“Next morning, after Bush’s unimpressive showing, a headline in the local paper read, ‘Mulligan: I’ll back Amarsingh to whip any American.’ Mulligan was the boycotting Giants Club manager. That afternoon we moved from the University of the West Indies to the Hilton, the most beautiful hotel I have ever seen or dream of seeing. It is situated on the top of a mountain and when you want to go from the lobby, say, to the 11th floor, you go down. That is, the higher the floor, the lower you go. There were some beautiful birds to be seen around the hotel, and also in our rooms I did see an occasional cricket, and there were, during our week’s stay, a few roaches here and there.”
“This Friday afternoon we met and talked with some of the Giants, including Mansingh who then drove us to southern Trinidad, to San Fernando, where our second team match was to be played at the Oxford Club. I enjoyed this team match most of all. There was again only one table—with a couple of hundred friendly but rowdy Trinidadians surrounding it. And to make things a little more pleasant, but maybe not so mellow, a bar.”
“In the middle of the matches Mansingh walked in. From then on the place was in chaos. People from one end were shouting, ‘We want Mansingh!’ And people from the other end shouted back, ‘Mansingh’s chicken!’”
“Realizing that this was the time to get some good info for Topics and impress everyone with my reportorial debut, I went round to a number of people to get their opinions on the Mansingh holdout.”
“Spectator #1: ‘Mansingh is afraid to play a $5,000 match with your Bush. He couldn’t make that in a year. He’s never played for that kind of money. Still, I think he knows the U.S. can’t put up $5,000. If he’s good, he’ll play anyway—for pride. But I don’t think he’ll play because he doesn’t want to risk his reputation.’”
“Spectator #2: ‘Mansingh is not a professional. He’s an amateur. He plays because he loves the sport. He’s not rated in the top 100 in the world. Who does he think he is to be suddenly playing for so much money?’”
“Spectator #3: ‘You stink, Boggan, and so does your country—including or not including table tennis.’ This guy then went off in the direction of the bar.”
“Spectator #4: ‘Money is Mansingh’s problem with the T &T TTA. But he should play. He’s the National and Caribbean Champion.’”
“Spectator #5 (drinking a beer and popping some nuts into his mouth): ‘If it was for his life it would be alright not to play. But it’s just for money. I’ve been in table tennis 10 years, and after seeing the U.S. play I think Mansingh would win. He’s beaten players from China, you know.’ You could tell this guy really knew what he was talking about. Beaten players from China, huh?”
“Spectator #6: ‘There’s a difference between prestige and principle. I prefer a champion to have his principles. Mansingh’s not afraid—but he shouldn’t have said his quarrel was over money. The main thing is he wouldn’t go against his principles. The game hasn’t been pushed here in Trinidad, so the Champ has to show the Government that the sport would thrive on publicity. That’s what he was doing by not playing—generating attention.’”
“Writing all this down was beginning to tire me out—but since Bush quickly lost again I could leave off and go play. I went out there to the table and in 15 seconds I was down 5-0. But since my opponent couldn’t return my serves, anymore than any of my other opponents, I was always in good shape.”
“After the matches, which we again won 5-1, there was more yelling and screaming from one side of the room to the other about who would win—Bush or Mansingh. One character went so far as to take out $500 and was ready to put it up—winner take all. But somehow his challenge eventually died out.”
“On our way home we stopped for some real Trinidadian provender. First, we had hot roti—spicy chicken in bread. Then a guy on a coconut truck chopped up some coconuts for us and we drank the juice right out of the shell. It was delicious.”
Later, we met a fellow on the street who (like all Trinidadians by now) knew Bush. He said, ‘Mansingh would chop and chop against Bush and when he got tired he’d come in and loop kill.’”
“During the next few days we played more team ties, and Bush lost still another match”—to Stephen Wade, as did Charles Butler at our fourth stop. But neither Mike nor Charles seemed the worse for it.”
“One time, while I was trying to get a sun tan, Bush was on TV and radio and of course repeating the thing that was on his mind—how he wanted to play Mansingh. Naturally everybody in the Hilton knew Bush. He had telephone calls every half hour. He was paged here, there, and everywhere. He was the biggest man in the hotel.”
“Bush’s TV interview was very interesting. Although the camera didn’t show the cut-offs he was wearing, it did catch very clearly his long hair, unshaven features, and ever-present Grateful Dead t-shirt. But he got his points across, one way or another. I mean, if you had to walk right up to the camera and eye-to-eye scream, ‘I want Mansingh’—if that’s the way it had to be done, so be it. Anyway, the people down here loved him—he was our popular American ambassador.”
“A little more respectable-looking Mansingh was on TV too. He complained that the T & T officials didn’t realize how long it took, how hard it was, to get good. He also thought that, like officials in other associations I’ve seen, they were afraid if they gave in to the Giants they would lose some of their power, their control. I don’t think they liked Mansingh much.”
“Hoping the T & T officials would see the possibilities of really promoting the sport through this match half of all Trinidad was clamoring for, and in the bargain give us some fun, Bush drew up a contract.” The spectator gate would be split evenly three ways—to the Giants, to the U.S. “Team,” to the T & T TTA. The Giants agreed, but the Association did not. “I’m not positive, but I think one reason was because of the possibility there’d be gambling on the match. ‘Now come on,’ I said. ‘Everyone knows table tennis players. Could you believe they’d be interested in betting on this match? I mean, would you expect me to wire home for a couple of hundred dollars?’”
“Some said the Trinidad officials were bad, but without a doubt I’ll take them over the U.S. or Canadian ones. Even though the Bush-Mansingh match never did come about, I’m sure all of us want to thank the T & T TTA officials for their considerable efforts in making our stay enjoyable. We also want to thank everyone who rendered us assistance, particularly Dennis Askin, Public Relations officer for the U.S. Embassy, who, day after day, took a great interest in our team.”
For the last night’s matches “there weren’t as many spectators as we’d expected. Also the conditions at the Queens Hall were poor. I’d been laughing at kids in street shoes playing earlier and falling down, but the first time I tried to hit a ball I fell down too.”
“In the special Singles Tournament this final night, Bush and Butler lost their first-round quarter’s matches. I won mine easily—but then I was in trouble in the semi’s. I had to play some wild man named Hamilton Bridgeman whose loop kill was faster than Stern’s. It was very hot, hotter even than usual, and my sweat was getting in my pips and the ball was going straight down. I was behind 19-11 in the first before he choked away not only that game but the match. “Bridge,” besides representing Trinidad/Tobago at the World’s, will in the 1980’s precede Scott as the World Police and Fire Games Champion. Philip, meanwhile, who of course is a native Trinidadian, had reached the finals rather easily despite a broken racket which he’d had to epoxy together. So it came down to Dave and me, and D. P. crushed me, broken racket and all… You’ll understand if I’d rather not describe the match.”
“Our play, our trip, then, had come to an end. Before I left Trinidad, though, I wanted to get some candy. So I went into a stationary shop and got some chocolate-covered peanuts…called of all things, ‘Ping Pong.’ And then it was ‘Adieu to you, Trinidad.’ Or so we thought. But our plane that was scheduled to leave at 11 a.m. was delayed at least 20 hours….I was in the airport pacing up and down when a Trinidadian walked up to me and said, ‘Relax, mahn. You’re in Trinidad now.”
“I sat down next to him and while he offered me some salty peanuts he told me a story. About some guy whose strength was so sustained from eating these nuts—day after day for five months—that finally, since he was becoming so unrelievedly potent, so powerful, they had to bed him down in a hospital. Some story, huh? From a friendly Trinidadian who—while I was edgy—could relax, eat nuts, and enjoy fantasizing with a stranger.”
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