Handball? Seriously? Handball?

I arrived to Zagreb to find out that I would be here for one of the most exciting evenings of sport in the region - the night of the World Championships in Handball. The exciting thing was that it was being played in Zagreb. And that Croatia made it to the finals to play reigning champs France. I enjoy championship sports regardless of the actual type. I like that there is something at stake. Outcome unpredictable. Live, semi-unscripted television. A media event. A final outcome. Winners and losers. Blah blah blah. But getting excited about handball, which I erroneously imaged as a team sport involving a backboard or jai alai court, is a bit of a stretch, even for me. Ergo the challenge that led me to stand outside in a crowded city square in sub-freezing temperatures to watch this final match alongside Croatian youth

A few things I learned:

1. Celebrate the victories along the way.
Following the semi-final game that catapulted Croatia to the finals, the main city center square erupted in fireworks, and not such a modest display either - perfectly respectable fireworks like those I witnessed every summer night from my kitchen window when I lived across the bay from Sea World in San Diego. I digress. Perhaps it was the thrill of this victory, perhaps a foreboding that this might be the last night they got to celebrate a win in this tournament. Either way, I fully appreciate the sensibility of embracing the victories along the way! With such a 'winner take all' mentality pervading American events, this struck me as quite profound an appreciation for making it this far. That, and the fact that they just knew the French were a damn good team and why waste a bunch of nice fireworks?

2. You can tell more about a people in how they lose then in how they win.
It's true! I arrived at just before half time to the central square to find a lively, and robust atmosphere of flag waving, cheering and upbeat crowds, complete with a live band on stage to keep the crowd festive during the break in action. The score was tied. With about 10 minutes left to play, things sort of went belly up for the Croatian side and defeat seemed the only plausible outcome. With the square packed I asked my local friend if we should leave before the game ended so as not to get caught in any post defeat chaos. She assured me that the fans would be an unhappy but non violent group. She was right! Sociologically speaking it was far more interesting to witness the loss, although I sure was rooting for the home side! So game end, the band immediately striking up to drown out the sound of the post game commentary on the not so jumbotrons, fans bursting into heartfelt renditions of national pride songs, the 'handball anthem' (yes there is a handball anthem!), and other singalongs. Flags waving in the air, complaints abounding about the crap referee (isn't there always one?), and the slow dispersal of sad faced fans who could still walk away head held high cos they had made it to the finals at least! In any event, the predictable post-game firecrackers on the ground, though carrying a different tone then in victory, were still not wasted in defeat.

3. Handball is sort of like basketball for short white people. Aka Europeans. I jest, but it's kinda true (save for the French team, thankfully). It moves fast, they dribble, the have a court that they run back and forth on, but instead of a large ball with tall baskets, it's a palm-sized ball and you throw it in more of a hockey net. I had never seen anything like it and am frankly, in shock that when some Euro friends would poo poo my interest in basketball as a totally boring American sport that these same people failed to mention they have a half-assed version of the same thing. without any of the slam dunks, lay ups, and all net shots and, well, tall people. I give Europe (and the rest of the world) the win on soccer v (real) football. But handball v basketball? Please.

4. Who knew sports fans could be so malleable when it comes to the church?
Apparently, each team is annointed with a nickname, I suppose to give the fans a sort of mascot to rally around and some constructed macho image for the players to method act in. For example, the football team is "the boys made of fire". The handball team was "the boys form hell", but the powerful Catholic Church here decided that was not gonna happen so they changed it to "the cowboys". BORing. I found this story out cos in the post-game images of the commentators on the screen they were all wearing really goofy cowboy hats that in no way inspired menace and a sense that their eye was on the tiger. Instead they looked more like half-hearted frat boys at a fancy dress party.


p.s. - I have photos but I cant find my battery charger for the camera to get them off! Check this space!!

pps. apologies for the sporty ramble...did i mention the entire team came to the square to greet their fans after they lost? I thought that was pretty darn cool...even tho I was already in the bar warming my frozen fingers with some schnapps...