CONTRADICTION: Gaining face by losing it

You'll often hear, on getting to China on business, that drinking culture here is a bit different. As it's put by some: "it's good to puke." Overindulging at a client dinner shows new friends that you are willing to hold nothing back in dealing with them, that you're "letting it all hang out" and are able to let them "have something on you." In other words, by losing face, you gain friendship and can form guanxi.

I have been getting back into basketball these days. The realtor who is trying to sell the apartment I'm living in (for my landlord, not for me) was adamant that I come to the 6:30am game in Taiyanggoing park, down the street, to hang out and 锻炼身体, "work out, exercise your body"--and to help them practice their English, which I'm happy to do. When I first got to China, I played basketball on the college campus where I worked. I certainly got worked out. Inspired by the moves of Russell Westbrook and Kobe Bryant, and generally with no previous formal coaching, recreational Chinese ballplayers have an out-of-control style that led to my having no less than 3 bloody noses and a handful of bruises my first month on the court. This danger was exacerbated by the fact that I myself am totally out of control and am still trying as hard as I was in 7th grade to move gracefully walking down a sidewalk much less driving down the lane. In an effort to reinvigorate my spoken Chinese, get a workout, and have some fun, I decided to give basketball in China another shot and join the daily game down at the park. I've gone twice now, and while I've not shared some baijiu with the fellas (yet), I've built up a respectful, friendly relationship with some of them.

Today, setting up shop down in the post, I was being d'ed up by one of the bigger guys--one with a Fresh Prince-style flattop hairdo that generally is associated with military types, according to the dictionary of Chinese hairdos. The dude is actually way nicer than his hair would let on, and we were playing each other with the right kind of competitiveness, contesting shots cleanly and playing pretty closely. At this particular moment, gassed after about 20 minutes running around a half-court, I pushed off with my back to gain some separation for a turnaround, and nothing was there. I stumbled into the air and did a backwards somersault on the concrete, as I went down hearing the rising "oooooOOHH" of the guys on the court and the dudes playing pingpong next door. Just total amateur hour. After popping up with a smile--unhurt, but with my 面子 mianzi, or "face," flung out the window and screaming as it fell to the ground--I was helped up and high-fived as I jumped back on the court. After the game, chatting amiably, it felt genuinely friendly, like a gap had been bridged. I had "gracefully" embarrassed myself, let it all hang out, but shown myself capable of having a good time. In the West or in China, that's what life is all about, isn't it?