The final game takes place in bitter cold, yet with hundreds of spectators still on hand. For a while, the Lunas keep things close. At halftime, they trail by only five points. Zeus takes his team aside. The Lunas all have three fouls; four is the limit. "You have to finish them off," he tells them. But Raza Unida cannot. The Lunas don't foul and, though this is their sixth game in a row, start desperately pressing the length of the court. The cold is forgotten. Each basket brings an explosion of cheers from one side of the court or another. Passions run high. "Learn to lose," comes a call from the Raza Unida cheering section. "It'll be the first time," the Luna side responds. In the last minutes, the cold, the draining games it took to get here, and Raza Unida's speed and height wear down the Luna boys. Raza Unida wins the game, 32-23, and the tournament, which ends under the lights at 8:20 p.m., more than 12 hours after it began.
The awards ceremony follows. The hosts of a sports show on Radio KWKW (1330 AM) preside. Zeus has printed certificates of recognition for the referees, the sponsors, and others who helped out. Each is called upon to say a few words. Edgar Ruiz, of the New Oaxacan Alliance, says, "I hope tournaments like this will establish once and for all that we're not 'Oaxaquitos.' Long live Oaxaca!"
THEN ZEUS SPEAKS. HE'S HAPPY that his "We're Oaxacan" standards of amateur basketball have once again been met in this land of hoop infidels. The tournament is over, but for Zeus, it is also a beginning. Basketball is never over. Every detail handled for this year's tournament helps to facilitate next year's. He thanks the crowd and the players. Next year, he announces, he'll be organizing a series of Southland tournaments, with the winners to appear on Thanksgiving in a mammoth playoff tournament. America has given Zeus Garcia something more than a livelihood; it has given him a mission to help his fellow Oaxacans, who need basket- ball as much as he does. With the L.A. Zapoteco community so large, the possibility of a second life in basketball is only now becoming apparent to him. Several teams have asked him to coach. Others need help with their own tournaments. At some point, maybe next year, Zeus wants Raza Unida to tour Oaxaca for a few months, challenging teams around the state. Eventually, though, Zeus sees his current players leaving to form their own squads. He will continue to coach Raza Unida. He hopes it will become akin to a pro team -- where players file through, but the institution remains, and with it the standards of Oaxacan basketball.
Late on the night of the tournament, Chiquis and other teammates sit at a restaurant on Santa Monica Boulevard. "Are you going to write that we achieved something great?" he asks. Sure. Raza Unida achieved greatness on that cold court at Marine Park on Thanksgiving Day after the sun went down. So did the four Luna brothers and their team, Sierra Juarez. Zeus and Isaias, too. Chiquis spoke once about winning tournaments: "It's like winning a piece of Oaxaca," he said. "To play here with my friends in a tournament is as if I were there in Oaxaca. When I retire, I want them to say, 'That guy, he played.' There's no money, but there is satisfaction from the competition, the game, the desire you put into it. That's what stays with you. Later, they'll say, 'Those guys were good.'"
