| shenaeyktq | Date: Wednesday, 26 Jun 2013, 06:52:57 | Message # 1 |
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Inspired by this ragtag group, he decided to stay and coach them. Interest in the game has mushroomed ever since: Alums have gone on to start a middleschool and four elementaryschool teams.
Only when the policemen see their ID cards a bit incredulous that these troublemakers are, in fact, top students at Xinjiang's best university do they let us go. Afterward, Parhat shrugs it off: "In Xinjiang, bad things happen every day."
Jai tells me about the genesis of the team, which involved a bit of serendipity. A few years ago, some students discovered a cache of gloves left behind by Japanese exchange students in the 1990s. They goofed off with the equipment. Then, five years ago, Jai arrived in Xinjiang on vacation with his family.
We're at Sister Naidu's Restaurant, one of the unspoken Uighursonly eateries on campus, where two other teammates are comparing tactics between baseball and popis, a Uighur sport akin to field hockey. Although Xinjiang, with its rural and cloistered life, may be the last place you'd expect baseball to turn up, the Uighurs' outdoor culture hunting, sheepherding, tending crops have shaped them into nimble, if not polished, ballplayers.
The fluorescent glow of a 70inch flatscreen TV illuminates our booth here at Fubar. By chance, this sports bar, in one of the many Han districts, is broadcasting a Blue JaysYankees game. (There are no Uighurs here except for Parhat and a teammate.)
After the game, I walk over to the catcher, Zheng, who is Han. To him, baseball is more than just a game of athleticism. "I like it because you need to use your head," he says.
Of course, many of the parents have yet to grasp their sons' newfound life in the big city, let alone this curious game of wooden sticks and men in tight pants. Rufo says that when he visited Parhat's village, 900 miles outside of Urumqi, his family treated Parhat like a "superstar," just for making it out of the sleepy outpost that only recently was wired for electricity.
Over generous bowls of laghman, a spicy noodle dish, a halfdozen Uighur players, still in their white and blue uniforms, patiently explain the art of rabbit hunting to me. Parhat snaps his wrist to illustrate how a wooden sling could hurl a whittled javelin at fatal speed. It's easy to deduce how he's developed a pitcher's arm.
He's also enjoyed getting to know the Uighurs on the team and says that they even "hang out" after practices, perhaps to shoot hoops or watch a Major League Baseball game online in their dorm. And if the conversation ever falls short, they have one bedrock bond in common: They're all devoted followers of the New York Yankees.
His documentary, "Diamonds in the Dunes," traces the highs and lows of this UighurHan baseball team during the past season. "At the beginning, they were uncomfortable with each other," he says.
锘緼 baseball team bridges ethnic animosities in rural China
But I'm too busy listening to Rufo, the filmmaker, and what he's saying about shooting his documentary in notoriously sealedoff Xinjiang. He recounts growing a mustache and traveling in disguise to villages off limits to foreigners, following players on dates and doctor's visits. "Doing a documentary in the cinmavrit style is an exercise in patience," he says.
We have the streets of Urumqi to ourselves. No honks or beeps for a few more blissful hours. Suddenly, a police cruiser pulls up to our group of four, lights flashing. One of the officers leans over, looks me in the eye (I'm Han Chinese), points to the two Uighurs, and says, "Are they causing trouble? What are they doing out now?"
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