As Parliament began to discuss legislation on the withdrawal from Iraq of armed forces from nations other than the United States, a group of lawmakers demanded that the legislature instead take up the issue of the detained journalist, Muntader al-Zaidi, 29. After his shoes narrowly missed Mr. Bush’s head at the news conference on Sunday, Mr. Zaidi was subdued by a fellow journalist and then beaten by members of the prime minister’s security detail, who hauled him out of the room. Mr. Zaidi’s cries could be heard from a nearby room.

Mr Bush has done his absolute best to collect an impressive list of “neg creds” with the Muslim world in the eight years that he has wandered the halls of the White House. Now here is an opportunity for him to attempt to balance it off. Forgiveness. What a unique idea. All the Big Books of Gods and Religions stress this sort of thing, even the one that Mr. Bush probably keeps next to his bed, even if it is questionable that he can actually read it. The forgiving of an enemy and the display of grace and compassion is central to the tenets of all great religions as we were reminded by religious scholar and 2008 TED Prize winner Karen Armstrong in her talk introducing a Charter of Comapassion. And in the spirit of the season, what a unique thought: forgive the man who threw a shoe at you.

While I am quite aware that this in an Iraqi problem, Mr Bush could get everyone off the hook – Mr Maliki, the Iraqi Parliament, and a good deal of the Muslim world – by suggesting that Mr Zaidi be shown clemency. What is so hard about that? Is he afraid that he’ll be shoed whenever he travels from Texas? My guess is that he’ll not be traveling far from home once he heads back to the Lone Star State for fear that any number of foreign powers might Pinochet him later, and I believe that the last thing he wants is to see himself behind a glass wall in The Hague.

And yes, forgiveness and compassion is that simple. And the argument that it is not is the same sort of argument that is used in every situation that screams “Impasse!” A word from the man who impressively dodged a high-and-inside fastshoe could help everyone here. Will he have the insight and the moral courage to actually do it? That’s a question only Mr. Bush can answer. He has a chance to write a footnote into the record that might show him as a person other than the one so much of the world has come to know and loathe.

The bonus of being in the stands, as opposed to watching events on television, is that you can fix on what you’d like to fix on, rather than being directed by someone in the booth. I have no idea what was shown on television, though I have a clear and vivid memory of what I saw. Whether those memories are accurate or not is anyone’s guess, but they’re mine and I get to have them. Television – the same shared angle, the same flat, boxy plane – allows all viewers to see the same thing, and only the same thing. The size of the screen has no bearing on the sameness of experiencing the event. What we cannot see is most of the details, and so we’re left to imagine what’s happening just beyond the border where the world might be coming to an end, though you’d never know it if the guy in the booth doesn’t want to show it. Be that as it may, I almost never go to live sporting events for any number of reasons, the major one being that I don’t care to be in the middle of unrestrained froth and roar. Anything can happen in a crowd, and howling is the prime indicator that there may be blood in the offing. Crowds have a tendency to move in that direction. Any crowd, anywhere, gathered for any purpose can transmute into something much less than a sum of its parts. It’s all too frighteningly religious.

But I know that going in. And going into this one those sorts of checks were not even an issue. I wanted to be there for the spectacle of it, and this one dished it up just right. Two memories from that game – unquestionably a historic event, not a great game but an exciting one – stand out: one, general, of Yao Ming; and the other, specific, of George W. Bush.

First, and more importantly ,Yao Ming. I like Yao, and I have written in here about him before. To see him lead the Chinese team out onto the court was a moment that I am glad to have witnessed, as I clapped along with everyone else. The Chinese fans were obviously stoked, as were many of us foreigners who understood, in our own particular ways, the importance of Yao emerging from the tunnel leading his teammates onto the well-lit court for the warm-ups. It was a charged, cracking moment.

As the game progressed I watched more closely as Yao ran out of steam, grimaced in pain, bent over with his hands on his knees, slowly lifted himself from the floor after a wreck that left him holding his foot in what could only be described as agony (from the Greek root, meaning contest). It was more like seeing Cool Hand Luke eat fifty eggs – each one more ominous than the last – than it was watching a star in all his glory. Adrian Wojnarowski has a good take on Yao Agonistes here. It was a struggle to watch him struggle. I just wanted the guy to sit down, take a mighty load off his mighty big and painful lower extremities. I wanted to see Yao on the bench, especially after it became obvious that even divine intervention couldn’t salvage a win. How much can you wring from a man? Being Yao is complicated and obviously a painful business.

Now on to George W. Bush. I wonder if there is a chapter in the Presidential instruction manual addressing the proper presidential response to the introduction of opposition players at an Olympic basketball contest. If there is, Xiao Bushi is obviously waiting for the Cliff Notes. As the Chinese players were introduced Mr. Bush remained unmoved and un-clapping. Each player, including Yao, got the same response: a low-browed, leaning forward silence. I’d bet you didn’t see this one on television. I guess he was saving his claps for the home country team, since he applauded heartily for the US team. I’m thinking he probably got a B- in International Decorum 101 at Yale. Or maybe he just skipped it altogether.

_______

On a more ominous note, during the half time show one of the trampoline propelled dunkers took a nasty spill after a flying stuff, landing on his head, getting up slowly before lying next to the mat. He got up and with the help of two others made it into the tunnel before he again laid down before eventually being carried off in a stretcher. No idea how this one turned out, though if anyone knows, leave a comment.