Prayer & Basketball

Title:  Why Michael & The Cricket

June 3, 2026

By: Mr. Fat Hat (a.k.a. Doctor  Dunkenstein)

Topic: Prayer & Faith – Basketball

I remember the first time I heard this sound playing on the video at the top of this page.  At the top on this website page is a call to prayer in Arabic. 

When I heard it the first time, I did not know what it was, I had no idea what it meant while hearing this ‘musical sound’, and I had no idea what I was actually listening to at that time.   Nor did I know what that sound would mean to me many years later in my life.

On June 3, 2026, I reflect back in time to when I heard my first call to prayer.:

[Current Location – Florida, USA Beach – recalling/remembering the first call to prayer and my time in Cairo, Egypt. ]  

I was alone.  It was early morning, still dark, I heard this strange beautiful music, this  ‘noise’,  this uniting hymn.  I walked to the balcony of the hotel room.  I looked over the city of Cairo, as far as I could see, there were tons of houses and buildings sprawling out over the horizon and in complete view  from my room. 

I was in a hotel in Cairo, Egypt. 

When I was a young child, I never in my furthest wildest dreams ever thought I would be in Cairo, Egypt playing basketball games.  But that is where I was, when I heard my first Islamic call to pray. It was rising over a city of 11 million people.

…

[ BACK TO The Beach On June 3, 2026 ]

Yes, I was remembering all of those details about Cairo written above sitting on the beach in Florida , …  I was trying to decide why I undertook this online website project,  based in the sport of basketball and Victor Wembanyama.  Why did I start this project in the first place. 

I was just sitting enjoying the beach trying to regain a sense of balance,  that was temporarily lost to the recent overload of work trying to advance this online publication.  I came to the conclusion.  The reason was:  Michael & The Cricket,  Michael Jordan and Victor Wembanyama share my love of the game.  I wanted to write an online book about this shared passion.  I wanted to pass the lessons on to others, maybe young people in pursuit of their dreams.

I thought the world should understand how these to people as basketball players were inter woven into the fabric of the game of basketball, and that you don’t need to be a well known elite basketball player to experience to joy of the game, at the top levels of competition.  I thought people should know they faces many challenges during the journey to achievement.  It was not like the modern day media portrayed it to be for these guys.  Young people shouldn’t be fooled by media and marketing created myths.  That’s why I started this project.  But at the moment on the beach, the project was getting the best of me because the team I had been writing about was in the NBA finals.  The work engulfed me.  I was stressed.

[Back To The Memories and Blending It All With Present Thought … … trying to make sense of it all]

As I sat and sipped my coffee, while on the beach June 3,  2026, I began to recall the first time I heard this sound, ‘A Call To Prayer’.  I remembered when I was in Cairo in 1985. 

When I was on that hotel balcony I heard something that pulled my mind and heart toward prayer,  it was an unconscious calling, and an intense call to immediately pray.  

As I sit now on the beach in Florida,  I do not hear a call to prayer in Arabic. But I hear something calling me to pray.  something is telling me to pray, just as it has many times in my life.  

I don’t hear the sounds of the Quran being sung from the Mosque, as I sit on the beach.  but the call to prayer is just as strong as if I was.  I do hear a mixture of sound at the beach which I believe is coming from the heavens.

[Description of the storm at the beach, the sounds from heaven:]

… … it is:    … this orchestra of a storm on the beach,   … to me these sounds are also a call for me to pray.   … what a beautiful sound.   … … it was coming from so many different locations , as far as my ears could reach I hear echos of thunder. 

As I sit on the beach, I remember and reflect on the time, years ago,  in Cairo on that hotel balcony.   My sense of hearing reached far out in the distance, my sense of sight extended due to my elevation of the hotel room,  the room was on the upper floors , 20-30th floor, above most all buildings, in the sky … .  My senses were again absorbing my surroundings as I sat on the beach.

I remembered that I stood outside on the balcony above the ringing of a massive rising sound in that Cairo hotel many years ago… I ask myself, why was I recalling something so long ago, when so many current issues surrounded me … …  .  The sound was coming from hundreds of different locations.  But it sounded like one united song in verse.   I did not know what I was listening to at that moment.  It was hundreds of calls to pray from hundreds of separate locations, all singing  an Arabic ‘ Call Anyone That Could Hear to Prayer”,  singing from the Quran.  The same thing was happening while I was sitting on the beach.  Something was telling me to pray in the sound of the strong storm moving in my direction through the dark sky.

I remember I remained on the hotel balcony in Egypt to listen until the sound was finished … .

During my time on the hotel balcony in Cairo, The sun began to appear, slowly. I sat to watch this amazing light,  as it came over the Suez Canal and burst up into the horizon.

At that moment, I had the urge to pray.   I thought … … then, at that time, I should pray.  I should give thanks to God, …  thanks for the glorious day I knew was just ahead of me.  I was going to have a wonderful day of multiple basketball games in a preseason warm up tournament.  

I prayed, something I had not done in a very long time.  It provided a sense of peace.

I prayed before every basketball game I ever played.   I prayed out loud the ‘Our Father’s Prayer’ before games with teammates on every formal organized team I played for in my entire life.  I was surprised to find this tradition was with these teams long before I had arrived as a player.  I did not initiate the team prayers, the teams had been doing it for years before I became a player on those teams.   Prayer was a pre-game ritual in  my grade school teams, High School teams, University College teams, in Israel, Germany, Brazil.  It was somewhat extraordinary to find a pre-game tradition of prayer on all the teams when I arrived. 

I never prayed to be granted victory before basketball games.  I prayed from gratitude for the opportunity to play, and a blessing of health and mind during play.  I always say, God never determines basketball games, referees do.

I prayed what is called the Lords Prayer, also known as the Our Father Prayer, a prayer for well being, appreciation of life and blessing.  Always asking God for blessings of a safe game,  on the health of my teammates, and even health for my opponents – nothing stinks worse during a basketball game than watching a player on any team being dragged off the court with a serious injury.  I sought a strong will of the heart in  my prayers for God’s blessings.  I did not think game outcomes favored those who prayed the most.

As I sat on the beach in Florida before the 2026 NBA finals, I remembered that I began praying every morning in St. Joseph Catholic Church in first grade.  I prayed every school day until 7th grade.

 I prayed hardest in the St. Joseph gymnasium.  Every time I crossed the basketball gym floor on my way into church service, I prayed to be a basketball player. 

I wanted to be a good basketball player more than anything that I already had in my life with my beautiful family and the good life which had already been bestowed upon me since birth.

I remembered … … those walks to church … … one had to go and come from the church through thy gym.  This happened everyday at school.  Church before class, everyday.  Then, Saturday’s free, and back at church on Sunday.  I was taught many things about prayer during those visits to church.  Many of my prayers had been granted.

We attended Catholic mass every morning,  I prayed on my knees in church,  every morning of my life, when I was a young child.

I began to laugh while sitting on the beach in Florida remember my least favorite Nun …..  …  as I grew my knees began to hurt, and  as I got older, there was one particular Nun, ‘Sister Claw‘, who would go nuts when I sat back from kneeling prayers just to take pressure off my knees during prayer in church.   Sister Claire Marie ‘The Claw’, as I called her even back then,  had a reputation for grabbing many of her students firmly by the neck if she found something not to her taste.

A slap in the back of my head would sometimes result from this so-called decadent act of prayer defiance by an 11 year old boy, as far as ‘Sister Claw’ considered it, I deserved the claw and the slap in the head. 

I saw it all much differently than the ‘Holy Claw’. 

Sister Claw would often grab me by the back of the neck and shove me forward to push me back into a full kneeling position,    … … … This was the typical response to what she consider as this rebellious  ‘devil childish act!

I was not being rebellious, but I stood at attention and listen to her lectures and warning after mass.  Yes Sister was always the best response, adding a nod of the head in affirmation helped too.

…  …   I continued my prayers regardless of what was said or done to me.  I like going to church, most of the time.  In my mind, my prayers were sufficient, what did she know,  … my knees were killing me during kneeling prayer sessions, God must have understood my situation.  In honesty, I did not care what ‘The Holy Claw’ thought.   I knew I was pretty ‘ok’ with God.  Of course I wasn’t an angel, what young boy is an angel.  I felt I was good with my family, all six of them.   

I knew that all was good with my parents and siblings or else it would have been openly discussed.  It was true because we ate on every Sunday as a family, more often than not as an extended family of grandparents and relatives.

Sunday dinner always started with prayer.  My parents and Grandparents had all attended Catholic grade schools, high schools and even Catholic colleges.  The family prayers went back to decades before I was even born.

Sunday family dinner was an open festive weekly event, absenteeism was not permitted.  Nobody wanted to miss the gathering in most cases.  If  by chance you missed Sunday dinner,  you would be asking everyone to fill you in on the recent news.  It was always a highlight of the weekend. 

All sibling grievances were to be solved, if they made it to the Sunday dinner table at all.  Grievances and solutions could be openly discussed by all the adults during Sunday dinner, and contributing opinions could be entered into the conversation by any child family member upon permission to speak, after the adults.  Sunday was the day all ‘the air’ was cleared, it was a happy time.  There were notable exceptions.  They were not to be extended without solution for any great extended period of time.

We discussed everything at the dinners table, news paper articles, politics – yes, my father was a politician  – music, religion, sports, art, the weather – really, yes the weather,  my Grandfather had a barometer weather gauge and a wind directional gauge along with the temperature meter mounted on the TV room wall, weather was always interesting to discuss in our family –  anything decent was allowed into Sunday family conversations. 

That’s what was important to me, prayer  and family, then came basketball. 

Slowly sports and particularly basketball be came an activity of importance and I found myself praying to participate in formal team basketball play.

Sports was often the topic of family discussions.  We enjoyed a debate on why this team and why not that team won, or lost.    We were all highly skilled professional ‘arm chair quarterbacks’ by the time we entered high school.  Was it bad coaching, was it too many player mistakes.  We had all the reasons as to why who won and who lost,  everybody was allowed different opinions,  and adult conversations could be interrupted and challenged while arm chair quarterbacking was underway.  It was always a fun open argument. 

Basketball  became important to … it became very important to me at the very young age of ten years old.   Playing all sports was a daily activity.  I liked football, especially the Catholics from Notre Dame., but dodge ball, kick ball, baseball. tennis, they all were scheduled for back yard and park activities. 

It didn’t matter whether it was on or off my knees or standing up,  I prayed to play sports and my prayers were answered regarding basketball. 

I played almost daily from the age of 10 until the age of 31 years.  I played all over the World.  I made money playing basketball.  I paid for my college degree by playing basketball.  I had an unbelievable life of  eclectic education and travel due to my ability of playing basketball. My prayers were completely fulfilled.

I came back to all these thoughts of childhood, as I sat on the beach, June 3, 2026,

I recalled:  We had to walk from the church to the connected school rooms, one had to walk outside, in a strict two row system, in a no nonsense and no Tom  blessed foolery manner. 

 You could also walk through the gymnasium to church, you would cross the middle of the gym floor to walk between the buildings.  I always ask the teacher to go through the gym.  On the way back to class you could often loiter around the school entrance hallway.  There were photos of basketball players from many past years hanging on the wall.  Eventually I learned who those people were and what they had accomplished in education and sports.  Some where Stars in the high school across town, others had even played college basketball. 

My first break in my basketball career was granted in 5th grade.  In all those pictures was the Coach John Costin.  He was a mailman by day and the head and only basketball coach at St. Joe’s  for many decades.  His teams won the CYO League many times,  the pictures on the wall proved his accomplishments. The coach had one team of 7th and 8th grade players.  He invited me to practice sometime during my fifth grade year.  Before long, the only player better than me at basketball was Coach Costin’s son, who was an 8th grader. 

Not long after, without me knowing, Coach Costin had told my parents that he thought I was as good at my age as soon of his previous players and teams were when they played at St. Joe, the guys on the wall pictures. 

I prayed every time we walked to and from church through the gym.

There were nice team photos on the wall at the entrance of the school.  These pictures had championship basketball teams and players  … I wanted my picture on that wall.

He suggested  I attend a summer basketball camp.  My parent were not immediately keen on sending me away to any camp.  However, a comprise was reached,  I would attend the Hoosier Basketball Camp at lake James, only 5 miles from our summer house.  My mother would drive me daily to and from camp, she was not ready to allow immediate over night separation from me.  But I talked my parents into full camp in the second year of attendce.

A mailman set my career into high gear.  He was a great easy going guy who knew how to teach young boys the fundamentals of basketball.  

It’s strange that I remembered all these things about my childhood and my sports career, sitting here at the beach tonight.  I hadn’t thought about it for many years.   It was an answer as to my questions; why would I undertake this crazy project, it’s sucking energy and time from me to the point of complete exhaustion.  That was not the original plan. 

I remember, at a very young age I prayed for God to let me to play basketball. I was blessed

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The school had only seven grades of class teaching.  All those in the photos were athletes, boys and girls, I learned about all those older children basketball players on the wall at school.   

I knew the name of every player, what year they had attended St. Joe, what Championship they had won. 

I wanted God to allow me to be in a team picture of the school basketball team.

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Now, Doctor Dunkenstein is finished …  off back to Pluto. 

I pray during the storm on the beach and came to a suitable conclusion why I was torturing myself with this project, WembanyamaOnline.com