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Away games

U.S. soldiers in Iraq 'touch home' through involvement in sports

By Childs Walker | Sun Reporter

July 16, 2007

The northern edge of Fallujah, Iraq, was no place to be on Thanksgiving Day 2004.

Gunfire reverberated in the distance, and the "safe" ground occupied by Ed Malinowski and his crew of Marine drivers and mechanics felt anything but safe.

But these American men, forced to spend a holiday in a dangerous and distant land, thought of football.

If they couldn't watch the NFL with a turkey leg in one hand and a beer in the other, they wanted to play. Malinowski, who had played quarterback at the Naval Academy, remembered a game his linemen had created.

They would run through the team's plays but at walking speed so they could remain in a confined space. That seemed perfect for the conditions confronting the transport officer and his men, who were headquartered at an abandoned train station.

So they struck up a game of walking football - drivers vs. mechanics, with Malinowski, an obvious ringer, playing quarterback for both. The "field" was an asphalt parking lot, 30 yards long and 20 wide, with a line of Humvees forming one sideline and stacks of ammunition the other.

"I believe the mechanics won," Malinowski said. "They had this tall, skinny kid who could play a bit. And, boy, they talked about it for weeks."

Perhaps it's not surprising that a former quarterback who aspired to coach one day would maintain his connection to sports while at war. After all, he had brought a Terrible Towel, the ultimate emblem of a rabid Pittsburgh Steelers fan, to Iraq for luck.

But Malinowski isn't alone. From former Army and Navy football players to distance runners to aspiring mixed martial artists, athletes who go to war try to stay in touch with their sports. Sometimes, they do it by playing pickup games in unlikely settings. Sometimes, they organize intramural races, fights or basketball leagues. Sometimes, they call on psychology learned in sports to carry them through combat. Sometimes, they simply watch games, beamed to them at odd hours by the Armed Services Network.

Whatever the means, they hold on to sports as a way of holding on to themselves and to home. "Athletics is a release," Malinowski said. "It gives us a distraction from what the hell is going on over there. It's just one of those things that keeps you connected. It's like maybe you're missing Christmas, but you can't miss everything."

Parallel marathons

Maj. Rodney Freeman provided that release when his New Hampshire National Guard unit was mobilized and dispatched to Iraq in December 2004.

Freeman was stationed at a 5,000-man base near Tallil, which served as a stop for convoys in need of fuel and food. A military complex that size is a small town, with fire, police and public works departments. Freeman essentially became the director of parks and recreation. He set up softball, volleyball and basketball leagues, conducted road races and presided over a workout hall he described as "the best Gold's Gym I've ever seen in my life."

After seeing the Ben Stiller comedy Dodgeball, the troops requested a league for that old gym-class standby. "So I got them some balls, and sure enough, they started wailing on each other," Freeman said.

As Freeman watched troops rush back from convoy missions to play for one of the base's 50 softball teams, he realized he was doing important work. The troops couldn't choose between Olive Garden and Red Lobster for dinner, but when it came to recreation, they could pick a team and a sport, just as they might in Maine or Alabama or Oregon. "It was a way for these guys to touch home without going home," he said. "For seven innings, they could play softball and think about playing softball at home."

Before he deployed, Freeman had trained for a marathon that would give him a shot to qualify for the Boston Marathon in April 2005. He was never a great runner, but the routine calmed him to the point where his wife could see the stress if he missed three or four days.

One winter day, he and a few other distance enthusiasts dreamed up the notion of running a marathon in Tallil parallel to the one in Boston. Freeman dropped a note about it to the Boston Athletic Association. He did not expect it would offer official certificates, shirts and medals to those who ran in Iraq or that a crew from the Outdoor Life Network would be dispatched to shoot footage.

But that's what happened. More than 300 runners signed on, and the event became so big that Freeman had to give up competing so he would have time to supervise.

They began the race at 6:15 a.m. with an M-16 rifle instead of a starter's pistol. The runners had to be protected by armed trucks and razor-wire fences, but as the last runner finished five hours later and temperatures soared, no one minded much.

"The soldiers had an opportunity to share something positive from a combat zone with their families back home," Freeman said. "There haven't been a whole lot of positives like that for the people back home."

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Away games

U.S. soldiers in Iraq 'touch home' through involvement in sports

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Away games

U.S. soldiers in Iraq 'touch home' through involvement in sports

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