ST. PETERSBURG – Slobodan Savovic peeled back his Ohio State practice jersey to reveal a tattoo, something not uncommon for the players at the Final Four.
Corey Maggette of Duke has a giant wizard floating atop basketballs emblazoned on his upper arm to signify the many tricks up his sleeve on the court. Others feature the triviality of barbed wire around the bicep or Yosemite Sam on a calf.
But the words in cryptic lettering ink-needled into Savovic’s skin on the back of his left shoulder are chilling: WHEN IS IT GOING TO END?
A peace sign at the bottom completes the picture.
Savovic, a freshman guard for the Buckeyes from war-torn Yugoslavia, doesn’t know. And so while the rest at Tropicana Field indulged in the revelry of practice day at the Final Four, breathing deeply the scent of steamy nachos while listening to the pleasant sounds of sneakers on hardwood, Savovic tried to push what NATO calls Operation Allied Force from his conscience. But how could he?
For in Kosovo, about a 100 miles from where he grew up in the province of Montenegro, the distinct smell is that of death.
For in his native land, people howl in agony and shriek in fright, making for the elevator music of hell.
“I haven’t been told by anybody not to talk about it,” Savovic said. “It’s just very hard. A lot of innocent people are going to get killed and I don’t want to think about it.”
An official from Ohio State sat by Savovic’s side as he spoke in ruptured English. The questions directed to the 19-year-old with sad eyes were not to be about Conflict in Kosovo. They were to deal with only basketball. But it didn’t seem right to speak of basketball at all yesterday in the wake of real life.
Of bodies being charred and life being burned.
Basketball? Ohio State, Michigan State, Connecticut, Duke? The Final Four? Strategy? It all seemed so meaningless when Savovic uttered quietly, “Some of my friends could die.” And yet it all seemed so euphoric when he said, “The best thing about this country is freedom.”
The Final Four in all of its gluttony is America. It provides a reason to stand back and be thankful, and one to mourn real life in strange lands.
“For me, this is fun,” Savovic said.
Someone asked him about the pressure of basketball. He smiled politely. Real pressure is leaving behind your family at age 17 to go to Newark and finish out high school, to embark on the dream that is America while never knowing whether or not you will see your father and mother again, like Savovic did. He hasn’t seen Nikola and Olivera Savovic since he left, student visa in hand. “This is a great experience but I miss my parents,” he said.
It took him some 30 trips to the U.S. embassy in Belgrade to gain admittance into this country. His parents have been denied time and again. So he speaks to them by telephone twice a week. Sometimes it takes 30 minutes just to get through.
He prays the conflict between Serbia and ethnic Albanians ceases quickly. Because it’s not about sides but human flesh. “I just feel bad for both sides,” he told the Cleveland Plain Dealer earlier this week. “There are kids everywhere, and they don’t know if they are going to die tomorrow, and it’s not their faults. I don’t care about politics. I just want it to stop.”
WHEN IS IT GOING TO END?
Will Ohio State beat Connecticut?
They are thoughts that don’t belong together.