The summers in the early 1980s felt different. Hotter. Longer. As if every moment was written more deeply into time.

The girls never really rested during the summer — they just trained their bodies in a different way. The sun, the water, the laughter… all became part of the training.

Before practice, and often after it as well, the basketball girls spent time at one of the public pools in Miskolc. They loved sunbathing, getting tanned, and showing off their strong, athletic bodies.

Great bikinis, carefully styled hair, and a certain “Western” aura surrounded them.

During their trips abroad they had managed to buy special clothes that stood out in the city. Compared to most women in Miskolc at the time, they looked almost exotic.

They had plenty of admirers, but at the pool nobody dared to approach them. People looked at them the way you might look at Hollywood actresses.

Their husbands and boyfriends enjoyed the situation — after all, they were the ones dating the “super girls.” It gave them confidence on the court as well.

The chocolate-brown skin made the muscles stand out even more. Everything was tight, strong, athletic.

Simply put — they were beautiful.

Mesi used to joke that the pool looked more like a fashion runway than a place to relax.

“If someone can’t swim,” she once said, watching a teenage boy walk straight into a beach umbrella while staring at them,
“at least he can learn how to be amazed.”

Later, Edó and Mesi often reminisced about those years.

“Do you remember how the wrestling guys were always hanging around us?” Edó laughed.

“Of course I remember,” Mesi replied. “I could barely shake one of them off. You know I’ve always had a complicated relationship with wrestlers. I don’t like their sport — I just can’t help it.”

The pool stood at the foot of the old castle, an incredible view.

But the club house next to it — that was something else entirely.

Those same wrestlers organized parties there twice a week that no one would have expected from athletes.

They cooked goulash in huge cauldrons over open fire — so spicy it was almost impossible to eat. Beer flowed straight from barrels. And when the beer ran out, the famous Hungarian farmer’s wine appeared, brought in large plastic canisters from the Villány region.

Strong liquor was rarely needed.

“I went to a few of those parties,” Mesi admitted. “They were something else. The next day I had to sit in the sauna forever just to sweat out the poison.”

“Have you ever been to one of those club house parties?” Edó asked.

“With you? Definitely not… although in that particular subject nothing is ever certain. I did have some memory gaps after those nights.”

Edó laughed.

“Of course you were there once. We actually met there, remember? You weren’t exactly at your sharpest that night.”

“Neither were you later,” Mesi smiled.

They both fell silent.

It was a warm, comfortable silence.

The past felt warm too — like the air above the sun-heated stones of the pool.

What were the most beautiful moments back then?

Maybe it was simply this:

Girls on the beach.

In the sunlight.

At a time when everything still felt possible.