Rio (Photo by Devin Ingco)
By Matt Weiner (@MattWeiner20) – MBB Beat Reporter
Ibrahima Diallo has easily identifiable strengths on the court due to his size.
His redwood-tree-like frame allows him to set bone-rattling screens at the top of the key in pick-and-roll situations for point guard Omari Moore. If Moore were to slither around it to drive in for a lay up, chances are Diallo would be trailing behind him to extend his arms to the pearly gates and throw down an alley-oop.
When he steps off the court, however, his size, West-African accent and upbringing, paints him as a walking contradiction to his surrounding community.
Unless an alumni is stopping by, Diallo will always be the tallest person anytime he walks into a building on San Jose State University’s campus.
Going through life as a sky-scraping seven-feet tall can be exhausting.
“I get it all the time. I leave my apartment and it starts. As soon as I go to the store it starts,” Diallo said.
Over time, Diallo has found a way to stay in public and socialize without his height being the main topic of discussion.
It doesn’t involve borrowing a shrinkinator from Dr. Doofenshmirtz or shady western medicine salves and tinctures bought off of eBay to shorten limbs.
The solution has four legs, no thumbs, floppy ears, a tail that constantly lassos around and an inability to sit still.
His name is Rio and he’s a German Shepherd who has all the common side effects of a puppy; like his tongue that constantly flops around uncontrollably and a proclivity for mischief.
Whether Rio knows it or not, he hides Diallo’s height from social interactions.
“When I walk with my dog people forget about how tall I am because they see the dog and the dog will be really nice and they will be like ‘Oh! That’s a puppy. What kind of dog is that?’” said Diallo. “They focus more on the dog than me and I like that.”
Moving from the center of attention to the back of the stage can be a comforting feeling. Instead of having to be the focal point, Diallo can hang out and just be like the rest of the crowd, which is admittingly hard to come by for someone who has to duck under doorways.
The struggle to fit in is part of the collective college experience.
But, in Diallo’s case it’s different than a rambunctious wardrobe or adventurous hair styling because he has no say in it nor can he change it. Through hell or high water, he will always remain seven-feet tall.
And as long as he’s seven-feet tall, there will be complications that result from it. These complications are unrelatable, but extremely frustrating.
“I remember one time, I was going to be late somewhere, but an old man stopped me and he was just trying to have a conversation,” said Diallo.
The man went through the same routine that just about everybody does.
He asked about his height, if he played basketball and after noticing Diallo’s thick African accent, asked where he came from.
“I wasn’t trying to be rude. I had to say I don’t have time … sometimes you want to get out and go where you want to go.”
What Rio provides is the ability for Diallo to socialize without the conversation circling back to a topic that’s been beaten to a pulp.
Rio’s affable nature and hyperactive tendencies make interactions feel less like dèjà vu.
After our interview, I began to think more about what it would be like if I were to be asked the same questions everyday. Quite frankly, I wouldn’t enjoy it.
I’d be thankful for the perks it gave me and doors opened because of it, but after one week I’d have all of the answers to the questions tattooed on my forehead so I wouldn’t have to go through it.
Especially in a world of athletics that is drowned out with tedium and repetition, having a furry ball of unpredictability at one’s side could be beneficial.
It’s as if Rio fortified Diallo from the expected and became an enforcer of excitement.
