The Soccer Match.  Me (just a stand-in who can run but can't do much else) and Salam (a real soccer player) and one of my Army co-workers (a real soccer player) on defense.  Muhammad (a real soccer player) with the ball working to get it to his teammate Salih (a real soccer player).
	Majid.  Cool kid.  Wonderful attitude.  Stud footballer.  All he wanted was to play.  Soccer, baseball, ultimate, whatever.  I was more than game.  All he had to do was teach me soccer.  And Arabic.  The man of the family (at 14), taking care of his mom, two brothers, and three sisters.
	My Arabic and Majid's English.  Discussing Salih’s goal, how we may have miscommunicated (we're both learning!)  Salam shouting at us to get the ball and move it up the field.
	Salam.  The best player on the pitch.  In flip flops, no less.  Telling me to hold on for a minute.  Then juking me out of my shorts, leaving me on the ground with a handful of thorns from one of the many innocuous little bushes growing all over the soccer pitch.  He came and picked me up (by my good hand) and asked if I was okay.  Then he helped me with my Arabic counting by counting the thorns in my palm as I pulled them out.  He lost interest at Arbaeen (40).
	Googah and her Dad.  Me and Peta from our Australian contingent and little Googah (named by her Mosul family after the sounds she made as an infant).  He's an Iraqi Army guy who works with us, who came to the clinic so his sister just in to Baghdad from the north could be seen.  Beautiful family.  And all Googah wanted was to play.  So we played for an hour until we got tired, then she patted me on the head and smiled and said something I couldn't understand but translated as "Nice try mister.  Get yourself in shape for next time so you can hang a bit longer."
	Salam on the Mound.  Just taught him the finer points of pitching, then he proceeds to strike me out.  Teaching me to count along the way.  "Mister...Wahid (strike one)".  "Mister...Ithneen (strike two)".  "Mister...Tlattheh (strike three)".
	Salam.  He gets props for taking me deep.
	Hassan.  He's patiently helping me with Arabic while standing on first base.  Really the only base, as we adopted cricket running rules (we had Aussies along) and baseball pitching and hitting rules.  The Iraqi kids figured it out quickly enough.  This 14-year old essentially runs the clinic for the kids.  He looks after them.  Coaxes the shy ones into things like this baseball game.  Restocks supplies in the clinic.  Hands out coloring books donated by various groups.  Gets water for kids (and adults) on the fields when he thinks they need it.  And he walks to the clinic from his house in nearby Radwaniyah every day.  I asked him if he could use a bike and his eyes lit up.  So I'm working to put one together for him.
	Ultimate.  First time seeing a disc for these guys.  And, with the exception of a couple of throws they made with the disc upside down (probably a super trick throw in Ultimate circles), they had it figured out in about 30 seconds.