Edó gave instructions to the staff in her stationery shop, got into her “kispolski” – the little car they jokingly called a coffee grinder – and drove to the local radio station for a talk show. She never liked interviews; she was much more of a withdrawn type. Yet this time she made an exception, because the son of her lawyer had invited her to the conversation.

The interview stretched a little longer than what felt comfortable. Still, something from that discussion stayed with her. A story surfaced from within her during that talk – something she had never expressed before – and since then she has often told it in the company of friends.

The question was roughly this: What had been the most defining experience of her career, the most heroic moment she had witnessed in basketball? Had there been such a moment?

Immediately, Mesi’s heroic struggle in that famous game against BSE came to her mind.

She remembered the conversation they had after Friday’s practice.

“Edó, imagine this,” Mesi said. “After practice I had to talk with coach Miki because he assigned me to neutralize Jutka B. on Sunday. Damn, it’s an honor, but it’s a completely hopeless task. My teammates and even our fans will laugh at me. How could I possibly solve this? I’m sure I’ll fail,” Mesi complained.

“You’re capable of it, my dear friend. Believe in yourself!” Edó replied. “Tomorrow prepare yourself mentally as well, and you’ll be great. Put your mind in order, stop whining. The rest will come by itself. You’re in such strong form that you’ll grind Jutka off the court. I’ll keep an eye on you and help you with my blocks as much as I can.”

When she encouraged Mesi with those words, Edó knew they were mostly meant to give courage. In reality her friend would face a very difficult task against a professional player at least twenty centimeters taller than her. She worried about her. She feared her failure.

But she also knew that a girl from Miskolc’s steel district carried something in her blood that helped her even in the most hopeless situations – something that made the impossible possible. It was no coincidence that the band Edda had started its heart-conquering journey there. It was no coincidence that P. Mobil gave concerts there every other week – and that their greatest hit was about Miskolc. Later, when they were already living in Budapest, she experienced again and again that people from Miskolc were among the most successful – and they stuck together.

Sunday afternoon arrived.

The stakes were high, and the atmosphere matched it. The arena was packed to the brim. The crowd roared like crazy, never stopping for a second. The supporters were the warriors of Miskolc. They were not ordinary fans.

She noticed that Mesi was warming up alone. She didn’t want to disturb her; she knew that her friend was firing herself up inside. She would need every bit of energy to somehow slow down Jutka.

My poor friend, she thought. What a task the coach has given you.

In the locker room they looked at each other. They couldn’t resist hugging, but they didn’t say a word. What would they talk about anyway? Everything had already taken its course. Success or failure had been coded earlier, during the practices.

Edó felt that the team was fully prepared. Like gladiators waiting to enter the arena, they almost bounced with anticipation.

Then Miki arrived, and Icus gave the command:

“Alright girls, let’s go!”

The arena thundered. The fans used every possible cheering device. That atmosphere is impossible to describe. Only those who have experienced it know what it feels like – it’s one of life’s divine gifts.

Edó looked at Mesi and hardly recognized her. Such wild determination sat on her face that it almost frightened her.

If that Budapest Jutka sees this Miskolc girl now, she’ll be scared to death, Edó thought.

That game burned itself forever into many people’s memories.

Mesi fought like a lion. She didn’t talk, didn’t complain – even though Jutka gave her plenty of hard hits. Something drove her with the same force that drives soldiers on a battlefield.

They say that when a soldier gets hit by a bullet, he must think it was only a small sting. If he thought he had been shot, panic would take over and it would be the end. Despite the wound he must keep moving forward, keep fighting, otherwise he would be lost.

Mesi must have been the same in that battle.

She only fouled out in the final minutes – which was an enormous performance on her part. The audience understood that without Mesi’s self-sacrificing play that game would never have been won.

They celebrated her like the biggest stars, chanting her name for a long time. Poor thing burst into tears as she walked off the court. The tension that was released in that moment – only those know it who have once been in a similar situation.

What was the most defining moment of my basketball career?

Mesi.
And the sound of the war drums.