We had a pretty good game today. Perhaps the opponents made us look good. I wouldn’t say a team of middle aged men would pose much of a resistance to us, but nonetheless a good win was a good game.
Since this was the last game of the year, why not enjoy ourselves and go out with a bang?
It was as enjoyable seeing everyone play with confidence as much as playing the game. I ruled the defence for once. After only 20 mins into the game, we were 3-0 up.
Then it had to come.
Farid was brought down in the box, and the ref did not hesitate to award a penalty. Once again, everyone turned their gaze to me. I knew I can’t run away. I had to take it.
Take it easy and take it the way I had rehearsed in my mind all these while.
Put the ball down on the spot, left boot to its left, right boot at the point of contact with the ball. Then take four steps back. Right foot back, left foot back, right foot back again, the left foot back. Go slightly further back to compensate for the greater strides from running later. Aim for the lower right corner. Just think of the lower right corner.
Now just wait for the whistle.
“PEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Left foot forward, take a look at the ball. Right foot forward, take a look at the target. Left foot forward again and take a last look at the ball, then strike the ball with the right foot!
“Please go to the lower right hand corner…”
My heart dropped when the keeper stayed his ground and did not dive. My shot was not struck very accurately so it drifted more to the centre. Fortunately, the keeper did not dive to the right either. He just landed on his ass and saw the ball sail past his left thigh.
GOAL!!!
My immediate celebration might a bit extravagant, but for those who knew the hat trick of misses earlier on, they forgave me.
Finally, I managed to get a goal before the year ended. And what a way to lay the previous ghosts to rest before the New Year began.
Happy New Year’s Eve everyone!!!
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Standard Chartered Marathon 2006
Today is SCM '06 – the day of my first marathon. Instead of waking up with zest and anticipation, I was shrouded by a cloud of uncertainty instead.
“Will my archilles tendon give way in the middle of the race? What will be the maximum I can last?”
I was particularly worried about my maximum distance because I did not do anything close to 30 km in my trainings. Why didn’t I train until 30? Procrastination, haze, busy rushing assignments, underestimation of the distance during my trainings, inexperience…
Excuses.
I should have done a better and earlier preparation for it. Anyway it was too late to be worried about all these. The race will start in 2 hours’ time. Try my best and see how things go.
I was on my way to the start point after a can of red bull, 1 litre of water, and 2 bars of snickers.
Atmosphere at the esplanade was rather inspiring. The emcee said something which I found quite meaningful later on in the race.
“This is your own race. Yes, I mean you the guy from Chua Chu Kang who travels to Shenton Way to work everyday. You, the lady who lives in Pasir Ris. All of you, ordinary people from all walks of life. This is your race! Make sure you look up and lift your chest when you cross the finishing line. You deserve it!”
You go, dude.
There wasn’t much time to let the mind wander around. The race was going to start soon. Better concentrate and consolidate my energies on the road ahead.
The full-marathon runners clearly impressed me with their attitude. I was able to begin on a jogging pace immediately after the start line. That wasn’t the case for the previous races I had participated. I used to walk for a kilometer or two after the start line in AHM.
The first 27 km were pretty comfortable. It took me through parts of marina south before first light came, a Shenton Way not used to a different type of crowd occupying its streets, the never ending stretch from Nicoll Highway to Fort Road, and 2 km past ECP Macdonalds.
Finally I felt the tendon.
To be on the safe side I did not persist, but took a short break at the water point. Managed to get some ice from the volunteers to treat the inflammation. It felt better almost immediately. After around 100m of walking I started jogging again. I was determined to put in an honest effort for this marathon.
I would not walk if I could jog.
That jogging brought me over the psychological barrier of the ECP turning point, all the way to the 30 km mark. That was then I felt a very weird fatigue engulf me. It was not the usual kind of fatigue that made me sleepy from playing hard court soccer or table tennis. Nor did it make me feel weak like working out in a gym. In fact I felt very alert and awake, but something was burning in my chest. I needed to gasp for air just to keep that fire down, and the burning just restrained my legs from making that one more step.
I had read somewhere that glycogen in the body will be depleted around the 30-32 km mark. After that the body would turn to the fat reserves to compensate energy. But fat does not burn as efficiently as glycogen, which will result in a commonly known event as "hitting the wall."
I never knew that burning of fat was such a different feeling from the burning of glycogen.
Moreover I am a skinny person, so I do not have much fat to burn. Compared to a fatter person at this stage, I should feel more tired than him/her. To make things worse, I am starting to feel the cramps. I still have 12 km to go. What should I do?
Just as my legs started to limp uncontrollably, some of the best images of my life suddenly surfaced before my eyes. Like old friends coming forth with their encouragement.
The sharp pain in my left calf broke me out of my trance.
I knew it would be impossible to complete the rest of the distance by jogging. For someone who ran and exercised regularly, it definitely dealt a huge blow to my ego. Even if I were to reach the finishing line later, the satisfaction would no longer be there. I could not meet my target of completing this marathon by running. Why continue since I am no longer enjoying it?
To make things worse, it threatened to rain at the 32km mark (the Fort Road exit of East Coast Park).
I was highly demoralized by then. My cramped up legs, the inflamed Achilles tendon, the slight drizzle which had already descended, the inexplicable fatigue from glycogen depletion, not able to make it back in 6 hours… I just stood there in the middle of the crowd watching people overtake me.
It was at this moment that I saw an image that would stay in my mind for a long time to come. It was an old man jogging in such small steps that he would faster if he walked. Yet he persevered with his small steps. I wanted to question his reason for not taking the more efficient alternative by walking, and his Adidas “Reason” tag secured at his back gave everyone the answer.
“The beauty is in the quality of the steps you make.”
Irregardless of how fast you completed the marathon, irregardless of how others do better than you, irregardless of how incompetent you are. No matter how slow a runner may be, as long as each step he/she made at that point in time was the best effort put in, the honesty involved made it flawlessly beautiful.
Isn’t it the same in life? As long as we tried our best and put in our best effort in whatever decisions we make, the results are inconsequential. To put it simply,
No regrets at the end of the day.
Regrets = Something could have been done to make it better along the way = Not the best effort put it.
No Regrets = Even if I had the chance to do it all over again, I would still produce the same result = I had done all that I could.
That same old man was about 50m ahead of me getting ready to turn out into Fort Road. From this moment onwards I knew there could only be one image of a dashing man in my mind.
Not those handsome men with well-built bodies parading on tv.
But someone who had the courage to go on despite things not going their way.
Just like that old man who was taking his own but assured small steps. Just like the lady who limped on despite the obvious pain that she was feeling.
And I just realised I was one of these beautiful people around.
That gave me the determination to go on. It was hard to believe that moments ago, I was feeling so disgusted with myself for not able to complete this thing by jogging. Now I am proud of myself for walking. Nonetheless a lot of pressure was relieved when I lowered my expectations of myself. It was then that I began to appreciate the strangers cheering for all of us along the way.
The group of tai tais toasting champagne to use all morning at Fort Road. The ang mo who literally shouted at everyone who dared to walk in his area at ECP. The man who held up his banner at Kallang which so deeply touched me. It said,
“Silent warrior. The body will give excuses, but it is mind over matter.”
And of course, people from churches and many others more giving out water melons, bananas, drinks, deep heat, lubricants, every goodie you could think of.
And now who said Singapore is a society full of selfish people?
As I filled myself with more positive thoughts along the way, the journey seemed to pass faster and became more enjoyable. There were a couple of times where I chatted with strangers as if they were friends of mine, just because I offered to share my deep heat with them while stretching. But I had to break paths with them somehow, as I insisted on not walking if I could jog.
That brought me sooner than expected to the Esplanade. By now the morale was high among all of us. No one wanted to cross the line limping like a fool if we could afford the last bit of energy. From the 41km mark onwards, there were more joggers than walkers.
42km mark. The beginning of the last stretch of the race. As I took my first step into the final 195m, the huge gantry above it shouted out my timing loudly.
5:40:39+++
Goodness, I am still within my target of finishing below 6 hours! What a nice twist at the end. That drove me to a striding pace all the way to the finish.
I was glad that I had completed it finally. The feeling of running that last 195m was simply magical. The crowd, the noise, the ambience, the huge gantry which loomed closer and closer, and of course,
The beckoning of a personal milestone.
They simply drowned all the bitching made at the 30km mark. Right now I couldn’t be more proud of my trashed legs, my more than exhausted self, and the cool looking finisher’s tee.
Among the many important lessons I had brought away with me from this experience, one clearly stood out.
More often than not, things are very much different from what we had thought to be. Just take it easy with no regrets and life will be great.
That doesn’t mean I will take it easy on my preparation for SC 2007. Because from another one of the lessons learnt, preparing for a marathon is a serious business. If I tried to cut corners in my preparation, the distance will not lie, and they will prevail ultimately.
I still haven’t completed my objective of completing a marathon by running. But I know someday I will get it done. It may not be 2007, it may be much later. But even if that day finally arrived, it can never displace the significance of SCM 2006 in my life. Because in 2006,
I learnt humility from the most painful 12 kilometres of my life.
“Will my archilles tendon give way in the middle of the race? What will be the maximum I can last?”
I was particularly worried about my maximum distance because I did not do anything close to 30 km in my trainings. Why didn’t I train until 30? Procrastination, haze, busy rushing assignments, underestimation of the distance during my trainings, inexperience…
Excuses.
I should have done a better and earlier preparation for it. Anyway it was too late to be worried about all these. The race will start in 2 hours’ time. Try my best and see how things go.
I was on my way to the start point after a can of red bull, 1 litre of water, and 2 bars of snickers.
Atmosphere at the esplanade was rather inspiring. The emcee said something which I found quite meaningful later on in the race.
“This is your own race. Yes, I mean you the guy from Chua Chu Kang who travels to Shenton Way to work everyday. You, the lady who lives in Pasir Ris. All of you, ordinary people from all walks of life. This is your race! Make sure you look up and lift your chest when you cross the finishing line. You deserve it!”
You go, dude.
There wasn’t much time to let the mind wander around. The race was going to start soon. Better concentrate and consolidate my energies on the road ahead.
The full-marathon runners clearly impressed me with their attitude. I was able to begin on a jogging pace immediately after the start line. That wasn’t the case for the previous races I had participated. I used to walk for a kilometer or two after the start line in AHM.
The first 27 km were pretty comfortable. It took me through parts of marina south before first light came, a Shenton Way not used to a different type of crowd occupying its streets, the never ending stretch from Nicoll Highway to Fort Road, and 2 km past ECP Macdonalds.
Finally I felt the tendon.
To be on the safe side I did not persist, but took a short break at the water point. Managed to get some ice from the volunteers to treat the inflammation. It felt better almost immediately. After around 100m of walking I started jogging again. I was determined to put in an honest effort for this marathon.
I would not walk if I could jog.
That jogging brought me over the psychological barrier of the ECP turning point, all the way to the 30 km mark. That was then I felt a very weird fatigue engulf me. It was not the usual kind of fatigue that made me sleepy from playing hard court soccer or table tennis. Nor did it make me feel weak like working out in a gym. In fact I felt very alert and awake, but something was burning in my chest. I needed to gasp for air just to keep that fire down, and the burning just restrained my legs from making that one more step.
I had read somewhere that glycogen in the body will be depleted around the 30-32 km mark. After that the body would turn to the fat reserves to compensate energy. But fat does not burn as efficiently as glycogen, which will result in a commonly known event as "hitting the wall."
I never knew that burning of fat was such a different feeling from the burning of glycogen.
Moreover I am a skinny person, so I do not have much fat to burn. Compared to a fatter person at this stage, I should feel more tired than him/her. To make things worse, I am starting to feel the cramps. I still have 12 km to go. What should I do?
Just as my legs started to limp uncontrollably, some of the best images of my life suddenly surfaced before my eyes. Like old friends coming forth with their encouragement.
The sharp pain in my left calf broke me out of my trance.
I knew it would be impossible to complete the rest of the distance by jogging. For someone who ran and exercised regularly, it definitely dealt a huge blow to my ego. Even if I were to reach the finishing line later, the satisfaction would no longer be there. I could not meet my target of completing this marathon by running. Why continue since I am no longer enjoying it?
To make things worse, it threatened to rain at the 32km mark (the Fort Road exit of East Coast Park).
I was highly demoralized by then. My cramped up legs, the inflamed Achilles tendon, the slight drizzle which had already descended, the inexplicable fatigue from glycogen depletion, not able to make it back in 6 hours… I just stood there in the middle of the crowd watching people overtake me.
It was at this moment that I saw an image that would stay in my mind for a long time to come. It was an old man jogging in such small steps that he would faster if he walked. Yet he persevered with his small steps. I wanted to question his reason for not taking the more efficient alternative by walking, and his Adidas “Reason” tag secured at his back gave everyone the answer.
“The beauty is in the quality of the steps you make.”
Irregardless of how fast you completed the marathon, irregardless of how others do better than you, irregardless of how incompetent you are. No matter how slow a runner may be, as long as each step he/she made at that point in time was the best effort put in, the honesty involved made it flawlessly beautiful.
Isn’t it the same in life? As long as we tried our best and put in our best effort in whatever decisions we make, the results are inconsequential. To put it simply,
No regrets at the end of the day.
Regrets = Something could have been done to make it better along the way = Not the best effort put it.
No Regrets = Even if I had the chance to do it all over again, I would still produce the same result = I had done all that I could.
That same old man was about 50m ahead of me getting ready to turn out into Fort Road. From this moment onwards I knew there could only be one image of a dashing man in my mind.
Not those handsome men with well-built bodies parading on tv.
But someone who had the courage to go on despite things not going their way.
Just like that old man who was taking his own but assured small steps. Just like the lady who limped on despite the obvious pain that she was feeling.
And I just realised I was one of these beautiful people around.
That gave me the determination to go on. It was hard to believe that moments ago, I was feeling so disgusted with myself for not able to complete this thing by jogging. Now I am proud of myself for walking. Nonetheless a lot of pressure was relieved when I lowered my expectations of myself. It was then that I began to appreciate the strangers cheering for all of us along the way.
The group of tai tais toasting champagne to use all morning at Fort Road. The ang mo who literally shouted at everyone who dared to walk in his area at ECP. The man who held up his banner at Kallang which so deeply touched me. It said,
“Silent warrior. The body will give excuses, but it is mind over matter.”
And of course, people from churches and many others more giving out water melons, bananas, drinks, deep heat, lubricants, every goodie you could think of.
And now who said Singapore is a society full of selfish people?
As I filled myself with more positive thoughts along the way, the journey seemed to pass faster and became more enjoyable. There were a couple of times where I chatted with strangers as if they were friends of mine, just because I offered to share my deep heat with them while stretching. But I had to break paths with them somehow, as I insisted on not walking if I could jog.
That brought me sooner than expected to the Esplanade. By now the morale was high among all of us. No one wanted to cross the line limping like a fool if we could afford the last bit of energy. From the 41km mark onwards, there were more joggers than walkers.
42km mark. The beginning of the last stretch of the race. As I took my first step into the final 195m, the huge gantry above it shouted out my timing loudly.
5:40:39+++
Goodness, I am still within my target of finishing below 6 hours! What a nice twist at the end. That drove me to a striding pace all the way to the finish.
I was glad that I had completed it finally. The feeling of running that last 195m was simply magical. The crowd, the noise, the ambience, the huge gantry which loomed closer and closer, and of course,
The beckoning of a personal milestone.
They simply drowned all the bitching made at the 30km mark. Right now I couldn’t be more proud of my trashed legs, my more than exhausted self, and the cool looking finisher’s tee.
Among the many important lessons I had brought away with me from this experience, one clearly stood out.
More often than not, things are very much different from what we had thought to be. Just take it easy with no regrets and life will be great.
That doesn’t mean I will take it easy on my preparation for SC 2007. Because from another one of the lessons learnt, preparing for a marathon is a serious business. If I tried to cut corners in my preparation, the distance will not lie, and they will prevail ultimately.
I still haven’t completed my objective of completing a marathon by running. But I know someday I will get it done. It may not be 2007, it may be much later. But even if that day finally arrived, it can never displace the significance of SCM 2006 in my life. Because in 2006,
I learnt humility from the most painful 12 kilometres of my life.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Sorao Miagete
Finally time to post new entries on this blog!
Life away from assignments and deadlines sure felt good! For once the mind is not occupied by things to be done. A holiday can never be called a holiday unless the mind gets a good rest.
This week also marked the unofficial start of my holidays. I haven’t made much plans yet. Just wanted to complete my marathon first and see how things go. Come to think of it, time really flies. It didn’t feel that long ago that I was still living the days of sleeping in the bunk and playing lan at Gann Boon’s lan shop.
Those were the good old days man.
I proclaim to have pretty good driving skills in real life, but in that stupid SAF computer game called “flashpoint resistance”, no one dared to long pang in my rover. Why? I always ram into a tree or tried to cheong straight into the enemy in a valiant effort to run them down. In the end I either ran down MY OWN TEAMMATES running in the same direction or gave my friends a lift to the afterworlds. Anyone, ANYONE, who took a ride in my land rover will end up with a computer screen bathed in red, and then their character will become a little bird after a few minutes.
After while my friends devised an effective way to handle the (would be wasted) vehicular resources under my atrocious driving. To prevent wastage of scarce vehicles in the game, they would climb up onboard beside me and blast their rifles off in my direction. After that another guy would take over the wheels and continue with the game, while I became a little bird. Ok lah, at least they still bothered to expend 01 x magazine worth of rounds on me. At least I am not worth a one bullet kill.
My fortunes did not become better when I became the passenger. Perhaps used to that bad habit of shooting the GREAT driver, they would BLAST THEIR RIFLES off in my direction the moment I hopped on board. Driver or not, my fate with the rover is closely tied to a little bird in the sky.
I don’t blame them. My gaming skills are right in the pits. All I could contribute to the game was to pick up an anti-tank weapon and fire a missile in the direction of my friends’ rover. The explosion that followed was simply beautiful.
Unfortunately my destructive influence in the games I participated earned me unwanted reputation, and thanks to that reputation I was almost ousted from the lan shop by Gann Boon and friends. Fortunately, one magical word I learnt from the malay driver saved the day.
Tolong.
Finally they relented and allowed me to stay in the lan shop till my last days in camp. Thanks guys. You simply rock.
There were many other unforgettable moments back in those days. I had better write the following one down before I forget it in future.
The day I spent up on the mountain with sergeant (NS) Sammy and Tan Yeat Cheong.
Ok lah, maybe I was exaggerating. The knoll was only 100+ metres high so it was strictly not a mountain. I don’t think my flat on the 30th storey is higher than bukit timah, so that knoll we were on that day was at least 30th storey high.
We were supposed to provide surveillance to an axis which a convoy of enemy tanks would most likely take. To sidetrack, we were THE enemy during that exercise. The convoy of tanks were the SAF, the good guys. So in order to provide reliable spying service on that axis, we had to be in position by the night before. But since it was too dark and dangerous to climb up the knoll at night,
We just slept through the night at the foot of knoll.
At 0600, we were up and alive. Daylight kicks in pretty early at that time of the year in Queensland. First light came on a daily average at 0530 hours. By 0630, we were up on the top.
What a sight it was up there!
A clear blue sky blanketed the land as far as the horizons allowed. Apart from the range of mountains to our north (called the Polygon Range), there was nothing to obstruct the endless piece of sky above us. Compared to Singapore where buildings always blocked out parts of the sky,
What I was seeing then must have come from the heavens.
Immediately I felt happier. The fresh air, serenity, and space up there were so beautiful and yet precious. Mai tu liao. Chop chop spread out the ground sheet and lie down to admire the scenery.
There were different shades of blue. The lighter shades were closer to the horizon where the sun was rising. What captivated me were the darker shades that loomed right above.
They seemed to hint at the endless space beyond it.
The infiniteness of the universe. The insignificance of man.
Nature is so vast, so impressive, so beautiful, and yet so mysterious. Admiring nature never failed to make me and my problems feel so insignificant.
Just stop Tan Yeat Cheong from spoiling the ambience with his 101 facts about the penis.
As my gaze got absorbed into the surreal shades of blue, many good old memories and songs returned.
Hitotsu ai wo ushinau tabi
Whenever I fall out of love
Mi ni utsuru subete monokuro ni mieru
Everything I see turns monochrome
Futari yoku itta sutajium no shiai
We often used to go see the games at the stadium
Taisetsu na hi sae mou dou demo yoku natte iru
But the good old days mean nothing to me anymore
Daisuki na mono wa tatoe anata ga inakute mo
Even after you have gone, I still want to tell the world
Daisuki da tte iitai no ni
What is it that I truly love
Sorao miagete
Looking up to the sky
Namida koborenai you ni
I try holding back my tears
Kaze ni yureru furaggu iro azayaka na kinou
Flags were moving in the wind and things seemed brighter yesterday
Sorao miagete
Looking up to the sky
Yoku yume wo katatta ne
We used to talk about our dreams
Donna mubou na yume mo kanaisou na ki ga shita
No matter how far out of reach they seemed, dreams could come true
Ano kagayaki uso ja nai to itte yo
Tell me that fire in your eyes is not a lie.
Life away from assignments and deadlines sure felt good! For once the mind is not occupied by things to be done. A holiday can never be called a holiday unless the mind gets a good rest.
This week also marked the unofficial start of my holidays. I haven’t made much plans yet. Just wanted to complete my marathon first and see how things go. Come to think of it, time really flies. It didn’t feel that long ago that I was still living the days of sleeping in the bunk and playing lan at Gann Boon’s lan shop.
Those were the good old days man.
I proclaim to have pretty good driving skills in real life, but in that stupid SAF computer game called “flashpoint resistance”, no one dared to long pang in my rover. Why? I always ram into a tree or tried to cheong straight into the enemy in a valiant effort to run them down. In the end I either ran down MY OWN TEAMMATES running in the same direction or gave my friends a lift to the afterworlds. Anyone, ANYONE, who took a ride in my land rover will end up with a computer screen bathed in red, and then their character will become a little bird after a few minutes.
After while my friends devised an effective way to handle the (would be wasted) vehicular resources under my atrocious driving. To prevent wastage of scarce vehicles in the game, they would climb up onboard beside me and blast their rifles off in my direction. After that another guy would take over the wheels and continue with the game, while I became a little bird. Ok lah, at least they still bothered to expend 01 x magazine worth of rounds on me. At least I am not worth a one bullet kill.
My fortunes did not become better when I became the passenger. Perhaps used to that bad habit of shooting the GREAT driver, they would BLAST THEIR RIFLES off in my direction the moment I hopped on board. Driver or not, my fate with the rover is closely tied to a little bird in the sky.
I don’t blame them. My gaming skills are right in the pits. All I could contribute to the game was to pick up an anti-tank weapon and fire a missile in the direction of my friends’ rover. The explosion that followed was simply beautiful.
Unfortunately my destructive influence in the games I participated earned me unwanted reputation, and thanks to that reputation I was almost ousted from the lan shop by Gann Boon and friends. Fortunately, one magical word I learnt from the malay driver saved the day.
Tolong.
Finally they relented and allowed me to stay in the lan shop till my last days in camp. Thanks guys. You simply rock.
There were many other unforgettable moments back in those days. I had better write the following one down before I forget it in future.
The day I spent up on the mountain with sergeant (NS) Sammy and Tan Yeat Cheong.
Ok lah, maybe I was exaggerating. The knoll was only 100+ metres high so it was strictly not a mountain. I don’t think my flat on the 30th storey is higher than bukit timah, so that knoll we were on that day was at least 30th storey high.
We were supposed to provide surveillance to an axis which a convoy of enemy tanks would most likely take. To sidetrack, we were THE enemy during that exercise. The convoy of tanks were the SAF, the good guys. So in order to provide reliable spying service on that axis, we had to be in position by the night before. But since it was too dark and dangerous to climb up the knoll at night,
We just slept through the night at the foot of knoll.
At 0600, we were up and alive. Daylight kicks in pretty early at that time of the year in Queensland. First light came on a daily average at 0530 hours. By 0630, we were up on the top.
What a sight it was up there!
A clear blue sky blanketed the land as far as the horizons allowed. Apart from the range of mountains to our north (called the Polygon Range), there was nothing to obstruct the endless piece of sky above us. Compared to Singapore where buildings always blocked out parts of the sky,
What I was seeing then must have come from the heavens.
Immediately I felt happier. The fresh air, serenity, and space up there were so beautiful and yet precious. Mai tu liao. Chop chop spread out the ground sheet and lie down to admire the scenery.
There were different shades of blue. The lighter shades were closer to the horizon where the sun was rising. What captivated me were the darker shades that loomed right above.
They seemed to hint at the endless space beyond it.
The infiniteness of the universe. The insignificance of man.
Nature is so vast, so impressive, so beautiful, and yet so mysterious. Admiring nature never failed to make me and my problems feel so insignificant.
Just stop Tan Yeat Cheong from spoiling the ambience with his 101 facts about the penis.
As my gaze got absorbed into the surreal shades of blue, many good old memories and songs returned.
Hitotsu ai wo ushinau tabi
Whenever I fall out of love
Mi ni utsuru subete monokuro ni mieru
Everything I see turns monochrome
Futari yoku itta sutajium no shiai
We often used to go see the games at the stadium
Taisetsu na hi sae mou dou demo yoku natte iru
But the good old days mean nothing to me anymore
Daisuki na mono wa tatoe anata ga inakute mo
Even after you have gone, I still want to tell the world
Daisuki da tte iitai no ni
What is it that I truly love
Sorao miagete
Looking up to the sky
Namida koborenai you ni
I try holding back my tears
Kaze ni yureru furaggu iro azayaka na kinou
Flags were moving in the wind and things seemed brighter yesterday
Sorao miagete
Looking up to the sky
Yoku yume wo katatta ne
We used to talk about our dreams
Donna mubou na yume mo kanaisou na ki ga shita
No matter how far out of reach they seemed, dreams could come true
Ano kagayaki uso ja nai to itte yo
Tell me that fire in your eyes is not a lie.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Give Up?
Today I missed 2 penalties. TWO. The first one could have got us in the lead. The second could have won the game for us.
It’s time to call it a day. I shall tell everyone that not to waste hard earned penalties on me. Get someone else to take it. Score the goals and win the game. I’m not going to score next one and I’m not going to take it.
Why risk inviting more embarrassment, shame, disappointment, and insults from opponents and teammates? Why invite more damage to my already low confidence? Just insist on not taking the next one. Someone else will have to take it. The goals will come. There must be a reason why I’m not an attacker.
I really want to give up.
Right now the thought of taking another penalty scares me. I just want to run away. Say all you want. I am weak. I am fucked up. Whatever.
Especially the second penalty. When it was awarded, I had told Teh to take it himself. He had suffered a crunching tackle to win it. I am pretty comfortable standing away from it. No one disagreed with my rational decision either. I did not shamelessly insist on being some superstar which obviously I am not. But Teh pointed to no one but me after placing the ball on the spot. No one contested with Teh’s decision since he was the one who won it. He had the right to do whatever he wanted with it. Then everyone started to look at me with Teh. Some even offered words of encouragement.
But they mattered little.
The ball still went out wide on the right post. No more spectacular efforts to blast the ball into the top corner. I just tried to place it in the bottom corner, but my technique still let me down. I couldn’t believe why Teh wanted me to take it. To sabo me? Come on man, penalties are rare stuff. Why waste them on me? Couldn’t you just fucking take them yourself and score the goals? I shouldn’t have volunteered to take the penalty the other day. Look at the mess I am in now.
But come to think of it. I still couldn’t understand why he kept faith in me despite 2 bad misses. But I am really grateful to Teh for that. Singapore is such a meritocratic place. There is very little tolerance for mistakes and failures. For someone to give up a golden chance generously for a clown like me really makes Teh such a valuable friend.
There were others who scorned too. I don’t blame them. I really fucked up the show. But I’m grateful to those who kept their faith in me despite putting disappointment on their faces time and again. Thanks to Teh, Keith, and Bernard for your encourage and assurance. Still, Bernard and Teh said some frightening stuff after the game.
Bernard, ”You are going to continue taking penalties until you break the duck. No one will take them until you score.”
Teh, “Good game Ah Lang. Next week’s penalty is still yours!”
Those lines really made me swallow a big gulp of saliva down my throat. I may not score the next one you know… I may have to disappoint you guys again. I still feel very scared and miserable now. The ghost is still haunting me.
But the fear of missing another penalty can never be worse than the fear of letting a pal like Teh down. For the support he had shown for all 3 misses so far, it doesn’t take an idiot to figure out that he is a generous man with his actions and words. If I were to let such a good man down, then I am really a shameless clown.
I may not even be allowed to take the next one. I may not even score even if I take it. I may drive home in such a miserable mood again. But I will seriously start practicing my shots everyday, in school and at home so as not to let my conscious down, not to let Teh down.
For such a person is hard to come by.
I am grateful to all the faith everyone has kept in me today. I won’t blame anyone if they lose that faith someday. I am just happy that there are people in this world who believed in me no matter how badly I do. I can suffer more humiliation and disappointment. I fell hard this time. But I need to fall. It’s all in the process of growing up.
Right now though, I still feel like crying from all the helplessness. But I will not give up.
Because you had believed in me today.
It’s time to call it a day. I shall tell everyone that not to waste hard earned penalties on me. Get someone else to take it. Score the goals and win the game. I’m not going to score next one and I’m not going to take it.
Why risk inviting more embarrassment, shame, disappointment, and insults from opponents and teammates? Why invite more damage to my already low confidence? Just insist on not taking the next one. Someone else will have to take it. The goals will come. There must be a reason why I’m not an attacker.
I really want to give up.
Right now the thought of taking another penalty scares me. I just want to run away. Say all you want. I am weak. I am fucked up. Whatever.
Especially the second penalty. When it was awarded, I had told Teh to take it himself. He had suffered a crunching tackle to win it. I am pretty comfortable standing away from it. No one disagreed with my rational decision either. I did not shamelessly insist on being some superstar which obviously I am not. But Teh pointed to no one but me after placing the ball on the spot. No one contested with Teh’s decision since he was the one who won it. He had the right to do whatever he wanted with it. Then everyone started to look at me with Teh. Some even offered words of encouragement.
But they mattered little.
The ball still went out wide on the right post. No more spectacular efforts to blast the ball into the top corner. I just tried to place it in the bottom corner, but my technique still let me down. I couldn’t believe why Teh wanted me to take it. To sabo me? Come on man, penalties are rare stuff. Why waste them on me? Couldn’t you just fucking take them yourself and score the goals? I shouldn’t have volunteered to take the penalty the other day. Look at the mess I am in now.
But come to think of it. I still couldn’t understand why he kept faith in me despite 2 bad misses. But I am really grateful to Teh for that. Singapore is such a meritocratic place. There is very little tolerance for mistakes and failures. For someone to give up a golden chance generously for a clown like me really makes Teh such a valuable friend.
There were others who scorned too. I don’t blame them. I really fucked up the show. But I’m grateful to those who kept their faith in me despite putting disappointment on their faces time and again. Thanks to Teh, Keith, and Bernard for your encourage and assurance. Still, Bernard and Teh said some frightening stuff after the game.
Bernard, ”You are going to continue taking penalties until you break the duck. No one will take them until you score.”
Teh, “Good game Ah Lang. Next week’s penalty is still yours!”
Those lines really made me swallow a big gulp of saliva down my throat. I may not score the next one you know… I may have to disappoint you guys again. I still feel very scared and miserable now. The ghost is still haunting me.
But the fear of missing another penalty can never be worse than the fear of letting a pal like Teh down. For the support he had shown for all 3 misses so far, it doesn’t take an idiot to figure out that he is a generous man with his actions and words. If I were to let such a good man down, then I am really a shameless clown.
I may not even be allowed to take the next one. I may not even score even if I take it. I may drive home in such a miserable mood again. But I will seriously start practicing my shots everyday, in school and at home so as not to let my conscious down, not to let Teh down.
For such a person is hard to come by.
I am grateful to all the faith everyone has kept in me today. I won’t blame anyone if they lose that faith someday. I am just happy that there are people in this world who believed in me no matter how badly I do. I can suffer more humiliation and disappointment. I fell hard this time. But I need to fall. It’s all in the process of growing up.
Right now though, I still feel like crying from all the helplessness. But I will not give up.
Because you had believed in me today.
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Never Give Up
Today I missed a penalty. To make it worse, I volunteered to take it. It should be a terrible feeling to volunteer for a penalty and miss it spectacularly, but not for me.
That miss was a personal milestone in my life.
I had played football regularly for 5 years of my life. Unfortunately, I didn’t have much luck with the attacking positions. I started out as striker, but I only had some pace to show for it. I didn’t have the technique and intelligence to beat others in a disadvantageous situation (1 to 2 strikers against 4 defenders). My hall team still kept faith in my pace and pushed me to the wings where I could exploit my pace. My crossing became my undoing again. What’s the use of a winger who could run but cannot cross?
Gradually over the years, I was relegated to the defence. It was where I started to taste some success. In defence, technique is not as important as discipline and bravery. For people who can’t do all the mazy dribbles and not strong enough to hold off the challenges of defenders, last man or full backs are the ideal positions for me.
I just had to sprint with the strikers and wingers and rob the ball from them. After getting the ball, a simple pass to my players would do. No need for any extravagant dribbles to beat their attackers. That brand of football suited me best.
Then why the penalty today?
I should give some background information about the game today to justify my actions. I am not a show off or attention seeking person by nature. I know which penalties I could take and I should not. I did not step up for the penalties when the inter-hall games semi-finals went to the shootout last year. I did not step up for the crucial penalties in my weekend league games. I knew my shooting wasn’t as good as my clearances after years of playing as a defender. I should not jeopardize the chances of the team with a showtime attitude. Penalties rare events among games, and low stake penalties are even scarcer.
We played really well today against a weak team. Both the attack and defence were in total control. The only player wasting his time on the pitch should be our keeper. There was simply nothing much for him to do except for collecting loose throughballs from the opponents. By the 90th minute, we were winning 4-0 already. Just at that moment, Marcus received a foul from their defender inside the box. The ref pointed to the spot without hesitation. No one wanted to take it. Everyone expected Marcus to take it since he had won it, but he didn’t want to.
I was telling myself. That was one of the very rare low stake penalties that would occur in my life. Whether I miss it or not, we would still have trashed them while keeping a clean sheet. The penalty was academic. It won’t affect the result of the game. It would only make Ah Lang score his first ever goal in his life or become a clown. I am not afraid of failure. I just don’t want to regret not having taken a penalty all my life.
I stepped up confidently, all the while I was aiming at the top corner. I took a few steps backward, drew a huge backlift and blasted the ball. But the contact wasn’t good. The ball flew embarrassingly off target. The final whistle blew after that shot.
What an anti climax to a good game. If I had reproduced that sort of penalty in the world cup, I would have been shot to death by an assassin the next day.
Like Diego Escobar in USA’94.
Fortunately it was only a quiet friendly on a Sunday evening. There wasn’t any spectators except for the occasionally uncle pedestrian who stopped by for a glimpse and kids on the flats around the field. Nonetheless, the penalty was a milestone for me in many areas of my life.
I remembered not so long ago that I was very protective over myself. I dared not venture out and do the things which I felt had little chance for success. Even for the things which I tried, I pulled up the moment things did not look well. The fear of failure and losing my pride for doing things wrongly were two obstacles which inhibited me from trying anything.
ANYTHING.
My self-confidence was very low. I could do nothing right. Everything was so well-thought out in my mind that I stopped trying them altogether. I either lacked the ability or the gains from doing them were not enough. Nothing got done in the end. I had no control over my life. Everything was decided by others. I was lagging behind my peers.
I was enclosed in a helpless world of my own.
I was frustrated with myself for being so useless. Even my football sucked in the weekends. I couldn’t pass properly, couldn’t clear properly, couldn’t do anything useful except whacking the ball away. I was always comparing myself with the Ah Lang of the past when I played much better.
If such a penalty surfaced in my life then, I would definitely pass up the chance and let another player take it. Most likely a better player than me would score it, but somehow that goal would be forgotten after a few games.
What happened which made me change my attitude in life?
I couldn’t remember exactly when, but sometime this year, I made a terrible mistake which conceded a goal. It was a very painful mistake. That goal changed the whole complexion of the game. I was the cause of it. Before that goal my team was actually playing well. That goal almost made me lose faith in football and myself. Why did I make that kind of mistake when I was making a conscious effort not to do anything rash?
I began thinking a lot after that incident. Initially I was very angry. Angry with myself for making mistakes when I had consciously tried to eliminate them in my way of doing things. The end result was the most important thing at the end of the day. I had been brought up that way. In school, getting As and scoring good grades were what mattered. The process didn’t matter. The quality of my life in and beyond school didn’t matter.
Not able to make the cut mattered.
I was brought up in an environment where the people around me were of high calibre. Failure was an uncommon sight in the community surrounding my youth.
Somehow that perspective changed as I grew older and have more experience in life. No matter how hard I tried at every game and instance in my life, mistakes will still happen. I still concede goals. I still got knocked down to the ground by wingers and strikers and letting them score a goal past me. I still regret over things which I shouldn’t have said to others. I still take things for granted without treasuring them until they are lost.
I still can’t prevent all of the above from happening.
There came to a stage whereby the frequency of failures made me realise that they are part and parcel of life. No one could have a smooth sailing life free from failures. Everyone will have to encounter some form of failure in our lives. The actual failing is not most important thing, but
How we handle failures and grow from them is.
It sounds clichéd, but the process is more important than the destination. That idea helped a lot. I began to take more initiative in my life. If I do not have a say in my life, then who else? Failures became less intimidating now. The pain received from them was the basis of the driving force which kept me going subconsciously.
I know failures will still occur no matter how hard I wanted to avoid them. Wouldn’t it be more worthwhile to try and see what happens than to sit back and wait for failure to come?
Never give up. Never stop trying. That is the essence of life.
I became a better person after that. Using football as an example again, I used to shirk myself of responsibilities. I refused to take goal kicks because I could not kick far. The fear of a bad kick and embarrassing myself or worse, conceding a goal was too much to bear. Now I took whatever chances I could to take a goal kick. Never mind the lousy kicks, never mind the embarrassment. If I never tried, I could never improve. Fortunately my keeper often passed the goal kicks to me, and that helped a lot.
Right now I am the default goal kick taker other than the goal keeper for my Sunday evening team. Taking up responsibility is a good thing. It is the driving force to excel and work for others. Even if things don’t go well, I can’t give up because it is not about me only. I have to consider others’ feelings too.
If one goal kick didn’t go well, make sure the next one is good. If not, then the next next one, next next next one, and so on. If I can’t get the ball from the striker now, make sure I whack him dammed hard the next time, the next next time, the next next next time, if I had said something that had offended another person, make sure I don’t say it ever again, ever ever again, ever ever ever again...
Being conscious or trying harder is better than being conscious of avoiding to fail.
That explained why I stepped up to take that penalty today. Compared to the Ah Lang who dared not even take a goal kick not so long ago, he had certainly came a long way to muster enough courage to stand before the spot. No doubt his lack of technique made his miss look awfully embarrassing, but that was an important moment in his life.
At least if he ever felt lost again, he could look back at this incident and say, “Hey, I had been through worse stuff. I had actually stepped up for a penalty missed! What else could get me down?”
Fortunately my friends were a forgiving bunch. I really appreciated the reassurance and encouragement of Bollocks and Keith. Bollocks said that missing a penalty today would mean scoring the next one tomorrow. The reason was that I will never take the next penalty the way I had did today. That was very true. Keith was even kinder. He told me that if I wasn’t around, the game might have ended up 5-5 instead of 4-0. Of course they were disappointed too. I had to apologise to Marcus. He worked so hard to earn it, only for me to fuck it up. Sorry dude, I know that miss hurt. You would have made more out of that chance than I did.
Enough of self-comforting. I am still a footballer with pride. The pain of that miss will linger in my mind for a long time. I will have to endure many sleepless nights over it. But I will not be discouraged. I willto put in more effort to train my shots. I will excel in shooting which I had been avoiding for a long time in my life. I had lost the confidence of my pals (in my penalty taking) and some of my pride. But I had gained a driving force out of those losses. I will train with the image of this disappointing episode in my mind. I wouldn’t know when that chance will ever surface again, but if it ever happens,
I will score my next penalty.
That miss was a personal milestone in my life.
I had played football regularly for 5 years of my life. Unfortunately, I didn’t have much luck with the attacking positions. I started out as striker, but I only had some pace to show for it. I didn’t have the technique and intelligence to beat others in a disadvantageous situation (1 to 2 strikers against 4 defenders). My hall team still kept faith in my pace and pushed me to the wings where I could exploit my pace. My crossing became my undoing again. What’s the use of a winger who could run but cannot cross?
Gradually over the years, I was relegated to the defence. It was where I started to taste some success. In defence, technique is not as important as discipline and bravery. For people who can’t do all the mazy dribbles and not strong enough to hold off the challenges of defenders, last man or full backs are the ideal positions for me.
I just had to sprint with the strikers and wingers and rob the ball from them. After getting the ball, a simple pass to my players would do. No need for any extravagant dribbles to beat their attackers. That brand of football suited me best.
Then why the penalty today?
I should give some background information about the game today to justify my actions. I am not a show off or attention seeking person by nature. I know which penalties I could take and I should not. I did not step up for the penalties when the inter-hall games semi-finals went to the shootout last year. I did not step up for the crucial penalties in my weekend league games. I knew my shooting wasn’t as good as my clearances after years of playing as a defender. I should not jeopardize the chances of the team with a showtime attitude. Penalties rare events among games, and low stake penalties are even scarcer.
We played really well today against a weak team. Both the attack and defence were in total control. The only player wasting his time on the pitch should be our keeper. There was simply nothing much for him to do except for collecting loose throughballs from the opponents. By the 90th minute, we were winning 4-0 already. Just at that moment, Marcus received a foul from their defender inside the box. The ref pointed to the spot without hesitation. No one wanted to take it. Everyone expected Marcus to take it since he had won it, but he didn’t want to.
I was telling myself. That was one of the very rare low stake penalties that would occur in my life. Whether I miss it or not, we would still have trashed them while keeping a clean sheet. The penalty was academic. It won’t affect the result of the game. It would only make Ah Lang score his first ever goal in his life or become a clown. I am not afraid of failure. I just don’t want to regret not having taken a penalty all my life.
I stepped up confidently, all the while I was aiming at the top corner. I took a few steps backward, drew a huge backlift and blasted the ball. But the contact wasn’t good. The ball flew embarrassingly off target. The final whistle blew after that shot.
What an anti climax to a good game. If I had reproduced that sort of penalty in the world cup, I would have been shot to death by an assassin the next day.
Like Diego Escobar in USA’94.
Fortunately it was only a quiet friendly on a Sunday evening. There wasn’t any spectators except for the occasionally uncle pedestrian who stopped by for a glimpse and kids on the flats around the field. Nonetheless, the penalty was a milestone for me in many areas of my life.
I remembered not so long ago that I was very protective over myself. I dared not venture out and do the things which I felt had little chance for success. Even for the things which I tried, I pulled up the moment things did not look well. The fear of failure and losing my pride for doing things wrongly were two obstacles which inhibited me from trying anything.
ANYTHING.
My self-confidence was very low. I could do nothing right. Everything was so well-thought out in my mind that I stopped trying them altogether. I either lacked the ability or the gains from doing them were not enough. Nothing got done in the end. I had no control over my life. Everything was decided by others. I was lagging behind my peers.
I was enclosed in a helpless world of my own.
I was frustrated with myself for being so useless. Even my football sucked in the weekends. I couldn’t pass properly, couldn’t clear properly, couldn’t do anything useful except whacking the ball away. I was always comparing myself with the Ah Lang of the past when I played much better.
If such a penalty surfaced in my life then, I would definitely pass up the chance and let another player take it. Most likely a better player than me would score it, but somehow that goal would be forgotten after a few games.
What happened which made me change my attitude in life?
I couldn’t remember exactly when, but sometime this year, I made a terrible mistake which conceded a goal. It was a very painful mistake. That goal changed the whole complexion of the game. I was the cause of it. Before that goal my team was actually playing well. That goal almost made me lose faith in football and myself. Why did I make that kind of mistake when I was making a conscious effort not to do anything rash?
I began thinking a lot after that incident. Initially I was very angry. Angry with myself for making mistakes when I had consciously tried to eliminate them in my way of doing things. The end result was the most important thing at the end of the day. I had been brought up that way. In school, getting As and scoring good grades were what mattered. The process didn’t matter. The quality of my life in and beyond school didn’t matter.
Not able to make the cut mattered.
I was brought up in an environment where the people around me were of high calibre. Failure was an uncommon sight in the community surrounding my youth.
Somehow that perspective changed as I grew older and have more experience in life. No matter how hard I tried at every game and instance in my life, mistakes will still happen. I still concede goals. I still got knocked down to the ground by wingers and strikers and letting them score a goal past me. I still regret over things which I shouldn’t have said to others. I still take things for granted without treasuring them until they are lost.
I still can’t prevent all of the above from happening.
There came to a stage whereby the frequency of failures made me realise that they are part and parcel of life. No one could have a smooth sailing life free from failures. Everyone will have to encounter some form of failure in our lives. The actual failing is not most important thing, but
How we handle failures and grow from them is.
It sounds clichéd, but the process is more important than the destination. That idea helped a lot. I began to take more initiative in my life. If I do not have a say in my life, then who else? Failures became less intimidating now. The pain received from them was the basis of the driving force which kept me going subconsciously.
I know failures will still occur no matter how hard I wanted to avoid them. Wouldn’t it be more worthwhile to try and see what happens than to sit back and wait for failure to come?
Never give up. Never stop trying. That is the essence of life.
I became a better person after that. Using football as an example again, I used to shirk myself of responsibilities. I refused to take goal kicks because I could not kick far. The fear of a bad kick and embarrassing myself or worse, conceding a goal was too much to bear. Now I took whatever chances I could to take a goal kick. Never mind the lousy kicks, never mind the embarrassment. If I never tried, I could never improve. Fortunately my keeper often passed the goal kicks to me, and that helped a lot.
Right now I am the default goal kick taker other than the goal keeper for my Sunday evening team. Taking up responsibility is a good thing. It is the driving force to excel and work for others. Even if things don’t go well, I can’t give up because it is not about me only. I have to consider others’ feelings too.
If one goal kick didn’t go well, make sure the next one is good. If not, then the next next one, next next next one, and so on. If I can’t get the ball from the striker now, make sure I whack him dammed hard the next time, the next next time, the next next next time, if I had said something that had offended another person, make sure I don’t say it ever again, ever ever again, ever ever ever again...
Being conscious or trying harder is better than being conscious of avoiding to fail.
That explained why I stepped up to take that penalty today. Compared to the Ah Lang who dared not even take a goal kick not so long ago, he had certainly came a long way to muster enough courage to stand before the spot. No doubt his lack of technique made his miss look awfully embarrassing, but that was an important moment in his life.
At least if he ever felt lost again, he could look back at this incident and say, “Hey, I had been through worse stuff. I had actually stepped up for a penalty missed! What else could get me down?”
Fortunately my friends were a forgiving bunch. I really appreciated the reassurance and encouragement of Bollocks and Keith. Bollocks said that missing a penalty today would mean scoring the next one tomorrow. The reason was that I will never take the next penalty the way I had did today. That was very true. Keith was even kinder. He told me that if I wasn’t around, the game might have ended up 5-5 instead of 4-0. Of course they were disappointed too. I had to apologise to Marcus. He worked so hard to earn it, only for me to fuck it up. Sorry dude, I know that miss hurt. You would have made more out of that chance than I did.
Enough of self-comforting. I am still a footballer with pride. The pain of that miss will linger in my mind for a long time. I will have to endure many sleepless nights over it. But I will not be discouraged. I willto put in more effort to train my shots. I will excel in shooting which I had been avoiding for a long time in my life. I had lost the confidence of my pals (in my penalty taking) and some of my pride. But I had gained a driving force out of those losses. I will train with the image of this disappointing episode in my mind. I wouldn’t know when that chance will ever surface again, but if it ever happens,
I will score my next penalty.
Sunday, October 01, 2006
High Morale Day
Today we finally won our first game in 1 month! 8-2! Muahahahaha
The lads played well today. We were keeping the ball at the back, ran for one another. Determined in our attack. Disciplined in defence. I even had a chance to go up for two corners!When was the last time we were so superlative?
Thanks guys. You guys go.
When I got home my favourite parking lot (Lot 1) was vacant!
I am truly blessed. ^^
The lads played well today. We were keeping the ball at the back, ran for one another. Determined in our attack. Disciplined in defence. I even had a chance to go up for two corners!When was the last time we were so superlative?
Thanks guys. You guys go.
When I got home my favourite parking lot (Lot 1) was vacant!
I am truly blessed. ^^
Saturday, September 23, 2006
Shall We Talk?
Didn’t felt like doing any work today, especially I had just finished three presentations and one assignment this week. Friday naturally became a self-imposed day to unwind. How appealing that would be for a time deprived person like me.
To add to the ecstasy, I end classes early on Fridays. I am free to leave NIE after 1230.
There was only one thing in mind when I hopped onto the train on my way home: I desperately needed to catch up on some sleep! My bed had never looked more enticing (although it had always been). Nonetheless I wouldn’t mind lying there for a few good hours like a dead log. Sleep had always been such a luxury.
The level of fatigue in me caught me by surprise as well. I could not believe I actually could lose a fraction of my consciousness just by sitting in the train. I was fighting a losing battle against myself over the control of my eyelids. Never realised that eyelids required so much strength to lift. I used to think the elephantine weights in the gym were much heavier!
Just as I was about to give up that struggle and let my eyelids fall to grace, someone managed to walk past me and let me catch a glimpse of her in the nick of the time.
And I was wide awake.
She was a total stranger after taking a closer look at her. Yet she exuberated a quality which made her feel so familiar. Her dressing and the way of she walked reminded me of my grandmother. She also reminded me of the stark fact that I had not visited grandma for half a year! Since I am free today why not pay her a visit?
Twenty minutes later, I found myself walking towards her flat. The short walk from the train station to her house certainly brought back many memories. The route remained unchanged; the same shops were still there after so many years, the same buzz of activity around the town centre… I am sure she would be pleasantly surprised by my sudden visit.
The familiar tranquil of the void deck was the best welcome I could receive. It was the same tranquil which made me enjoy going to her house over the years. None of the slightest hints of Singapore’s fast pace of life. When I finally arrived at her doorstep, I was so happy just seeing her resting on the sofa.
“Ah Ma, I’m here to visit you!” (in broken Hokkein. As always.)
But she just sat there, giving me a puzzled look as she turned her face towards the door. Where was the irrepressible smile of the past?
“I’m sorry I can’t remember who you are. My abdominal pains are affecting my memory. Pai seh.”
Pai seh. The two words so often abused by me and my friends in our lives. Everytime we tried to be funny after insulting one another, we say paiseh. But in those contexts pai seh was said in the spirit of fun.
Today was the first time someone said pai seh to me meaning every bit of it. And it was the first time those two words hurt.
“I am Ah Poh’s son. Can you remember me?”
Ah Poh is how she remembered by father. Fortunately she could remember him, and her reluctance to open the door slowly faded.
“Ah Poh and Shirley. I am their eldest son. Can you remember? I used to play with Henry and Michael in the kampong.”
Ah… Henry and Michael brought back more connections. They are my elder cousins. They are the grandsons which she should have the deepest impressions of since they were the eldest grandchilds. If she couldn’t remember them, then I would have lost all hope.
“Yes Henry and Michael. I remember them.”
If a stranger at the door could ramble about her son, daughter-in-law, grandchildren, and her magnificent home cooked curry with such precise accuracy, there would be little doubt that this stranger is indeed her grandson.
It took me ten minutes of regurgitating whatever memory I had before she was convinced enough to open the door for me.
She asked the maid to pour a glass of water for me. I remembered from my last visit that my relatives intended to hire a maid to take care of her. Grandma was suffering from acute senile dementia. They were worried that she might forget to turn off the stove after cooking. Then she was still healthy enough to protest against hiring the maid. She said she was still able to take care of herself. And that was the week before the maid came.
Today when I saw how dependent on the maid she was, I doubt she even remembered her protests half a year ago.
“I dare not even step out of the house alone. I need her to accompany me when I need to go out of the house. I can’t walk without an umbrella as a walking aid.”
All the while I was just listening to her, since with my limited hokkein I can’t communicate effectively anyway. Fortunately I had an orange to peel and eat to hide my embarrassment.
But after the orange was finished, an awkward silence took over. I couldn’t think of anything to say, and she had ran out of things to speak. We were just looking at one another, the silence just too over whelming.
Where was the lady who told me about the war, and how she and grandpa had fled from the Japanese by hiding in the forests of Lim Chu Kang? Where was the person who told me that she was grateful to me serving NS the hard way so that we could keep enemies like the Japanese away? Where was the person who could whip up a warm pot of curry with a matching smile? Where was the lady who displayed so much strength in character that made men like me pale in comparison?
Sitting a few steps across me was one of the most beautiful women in my life (amongst my maternal grandmother and my mother). Yet the distance seemed so huge. The guilt of not visiting her frequently enough to let her keep a lasting impression of me was too great.
I left her house shortly after.
The quietness of the void deck never felt so hostile. It was as if the silence was meant for me to do some honest reflection.
情侣都善于说谎
(People lie to one another for various reasons. Some lie out of convenience, others lie to protect. The rest lie to cheat. But never ever lie to yourself.)
大人都只会向前看
(Perhaps we have been too caught up with the progress of our own lives to notice those around us?)
为什么天南地北不能互相体谅
(Why can’t everyone have more empathy for one another? Having a long day doesn’t entitle you to vent your frustrations on others. What makes you think others had a better day than you?)
蟋蟀对着螳螂
(There are bound to be people whom we have nothing to say to. Just like a cricket and mantis)
有什么东西好说
(Is there anything which we can talk about?)
Shall We Talk, Shall We Talk?
好让我们重新认识别隐瞒
(So that we can get to know each other afresh.)
请你说 我们为何变成陌路人的模样
(Why did we become close to strangers?)
请你说 还有什么比沉默更难堪
(Is there anything more over whelming that this silence?)
难道互相隐藏
(Hiding and lying)
就能避免了失望
(Do not conceal but conceive disappointment.)
表白有什么可怕
(Just confess your thoughts)
请你不要拐弯
(Don’t keep them to yourself.)
请你说 请你说出心里难以承受的伤
(Can you tell me what hurts you most?)
不能说 除非我们早已忘记了爱的力量
(Unless you had already lost faith in me.)
聊天只能假装
(All these superficial conversations)
表情需要勉强
(and forced expressions on our faces.)
何必把这种遗撼
(Is there a need to take all these anguishes with us)
带到未来的天堂
(To the Heaven waiting for us in the future?)
There is only one way left to help her remember me.
I will go and visit her more often.
To add to the ecstasy, I end classes early on Fridays. I am free to leave NIE after 1230.
There was only one thing in mind when I hopped onto the train on my way home: I desperately needed to catch up on some sleep! My bed had never looked more enticing (although it had always been). Nonetheless I wouldn’t mind lying there for a few good hours like a dead log. Sleep had always been such a luxury.
The level of fatigue in me caught me by surprise as well. I could not believe I actually could lose a fraction of my consciousness just by sitting in the train. I was fighting a losing battle against myself over the control of my eyelids. Never realised that eyelids required so much strength to lift. I used to think the elephantine weights in the gym were much heavier!
Just as I was about to give up that struggle and let my eyelids fall to grace, someone managed to walk past me and let me catch a glimpse of her in the nick of the time.
And I was wide awake.
She was a total stranger after taking a closer look at her. Yet she exuberated a quality which made her feel so familiar. Her dressing and the way of she walked reminded me of my grandmother. She also reminded me of the stark fact that I had not visited grandma for half a year! Since I am free today why not pay her a visit?
Twenty minutes later, I found myself walking towards her flat. The short walk from the train station to her house certainly brought back many memories. The route remained unchanged; the same shops were still there after so many years, the same buzz of activity around the town centre… I am sure she would be pleasantly surprised by my sudden visit.
The familiar tranquil of the void deck was the best welcome I could receive. It was the same tranquil which made me enjoy going to her house over the years. None of the slightest hints of Singapore’s fast pace of life. When I finally arrived at her doorstep, I was so happy just seeing her resting on the sofa.
“Ah Ma, I’m here to visit you!” (in broken Hokkein. As always.)
But she just sat there, giving me a puzzled look as she turned her face towards the door. Where was the irrepressible smile of the past?
“I’m sorry I can’t remember who you are. My abdominal pains are affecting my memory. Pai seh.”
Pai seh. The two words so often abused by me and my friends in our lives. Everytime we tried to be funny after insulting one another, we say paiseh. But in those contexts pai seh was said in the spirit of fun.
Today was the first time someone said pai seh to me meaning every bit of it. And it was the first time those two words hurt.
“I am Ah Poh’s son. Can you remember me?”
Ah Poh is how she remembered by father. Fortunately she could remember him, and her reluctance to open the door slowly faded.
“Ah Poh and Shirley. I am their eldest son. Can you remember? I used to play with Henry and Michael in the kampong.”
Ah… Henry and Michael brought back more connections. They are my elder cousins. They are the grandsons which she should have the deepest impressions of since they were the eldest grandchilds. If she couldn’t remember them, then I would have lost all hope.
“Yes Henry and Michael. I remember them.”
If a stranger at the door could ramble about her son, daughter-in-law, grandchildren, and her magnificent home cooked curry with such precise accuracy, there would be little doubt that this stranger is indeed her grandson.
It took me ten minutes of regurgitating whatever memory I had before she was convinced enough to open the door for me.
She asked the maid to pour a glass of water for me. I remembered from my last visit that my relatives intended to hire a maid to take care of her. Grandma was suffering from acute senile dementia. They were worried that she might forget to turn off the stove after cooking. Then she was still healthy enough to protest against hiring the maid. She said she was still able to take care of herself. And that was the week before the maid came.
Today when I saw how dependent on the maid she was, I doubt she even remembered her protests half a year ago.
“I dare not even step out of the house alone. I need her to accompany me when I need to go out of the house. I can’t walk without an umbrella as a walking aid.”
All the while I was just listening to her, since with my limited hokkein I can’t communicate effectively anyway. Fortunately I had an orange to peel and eat to hide my embarrassment.
But after the orange was finished, an awkward silence took over. I couldn’t think of anything to say, and she had ran out of things to speak. We were just looking at one another, the silence just too over whelming.
Where was the lady who told me about the war, and how she and grandpa had fled from the Japanese by hiding in the forests of Lim Chu Kang? Where was the person who told me that she was grateful to me serving NS the hard way so that we could keep enemies like the Japanese away? Where was the person who could whip up a warm pot of curry with a matching smile? Where was the lady who displayed so much strength in character that made men like me pale in comparison?
Sitting a few steps across me was one of the most beautiful women in my life (amongst my maternal grandmother and my mother). Yet the distance seemed so huge. The guilt of not visiting her frequently enough to let her keep a lasting impression of me was too great.
I left her house shortly after.
The quietness of the void deck never felt so hostile. It was as if the silence was meant for me to do some honest reflection.
情侣都善于说谎
(People lie to one another for various reasons. Some lie out of convenience, others lie to protect. The rest lie to cheat. But never ever lie to yourself.)
大人都只会向前看
(Perhaps we have been too caught up with the progress of our own lives to notice those around us?)
为什么天南地北不能互相体谅
(Why can’t everyone have more empathy for one another? Having a long day doesn’t entitle you to vent your frustrations on others. What makes you think others had a better day than you?)
蟋蟀对着螳螂
(There are bound to be people whom we have nothing to say to. Just like a cricket and mantis)
有什么东西好说
(Is there anything which we can talk about?)
Shall We Talk, Shall We Talk?
好让我们重新认识别隐瞒
(So that we can get to know each other afresh.)
请你说 我们为何变成陌路人的模样
(Why did we become close to strangers?)
请你说 还有什么比沉默更难堪
(Is there anything more over whelming that this silence?)
难道互相隐藏
(Hiding and lying)
就能避免了失望
(Do not conceal but conceive disappointment.)
表白有什么可怕
(Just confess your thoughts)
请你不要拐弯
(Don’t keep them to yourself.)
请你说 请你说出心里难以承受的伤
(Can you tell me what hurts you most?)
不能说 除非我们早已忘记了爱的力量
(Unless you had already lost faith in me.)
聊天只能假装
(All these superficial conversations)
表情需要勉强
(and forced expressions on our faces.)
何必把这种遗撼
(Is there a need to take all these anguishes with us)
带到未来的天堂
(To the Heaven waiting for us in the future?)
There is only one way left to help her remember me.
I will go and visit her more often.
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Lame Shit
3-5 today. Ah Lang conceded 5 goals in a game? A through pass went behind me, striker dribbled past me like nothing, corner 2 goals, did not go up and harass the ball carrier. What the hell... There must be something wrong with me these days. When was the last game I managed to keep a clean sheet? I'm sorry guys... It must had been dammed demoralising up front to see us let in goals after working so hard to put them back. Were the rain and flu responsible for the shit that I played today?
Fuck the rain.
Fuck the flu.
They are just lame excuses.
I will not concede anymore goals from the next game onwards.
The wolf that bites will be back.
Fuck the rain.
Fuck the flu.
They are just lame excuses.
I will not concede anymore goals from the next game onwards.
The wolf that bites will be back.
Sunday, August 27, 2006
Dreams. Part 1
One of my dreams, is to run a full marathon. Paid the registration fee up front just now.
Now only 3 months, 42 km, and my reservations stand between me and the finishing line.
Part 1 of me taking an active stance towards fulfilling a life of no regrets.
Ah Lang will try his best to stand with the Gods.
Now only 3 months, 42 km, and my reservations stand between me and the finishing line.
Part 1 of me taking an active stance towards fulfilling a life of no regrets.
Ah Lang will try his best to stand with the Gods.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
GREAT Teacher Onizulang
I couldn’t help but watch in anguish how defunct a state my blog had become. It used to prosper during my NS days, when I had the luxury of time. Sadly speaking, time had deserted me a long time ago.
(i.e. let those who think they couldn’t cope with such a job quit before their liquidated damages snowballed.)
In case you had been tricked into thinking that GESS is a school full of angels, you better think twice. Every school in
Two students were talking at the back of the class. It just so happened that they were of different gender. Reprimand them in public for not paying attention in class? No way man. Just observe silently without them noticing you. Like how I spied on the wingers and strikers on the pitch as a sweeper. While they were busying focusing their attention on the stoppers and full backs, I had already covered their possible paths in mind. The moment they beat my defenders,
A student was a bit listless in class. Apparently she had either understood whatever I was teaching or simply couldn’t be bothered. Let's give her the benefit of the doubt since she is a bright girl. However, I could not believe the boy playing basketball outside the classroom was more handsome than me, so why should she look out of the window? I realised I needed to get her attention back whatever the costs. Again, Ah Lang had to look for her “moment of vulnerability” to strike. I played with my time throughout the lesson, and finally I caught her tail.
Knowing names was the bare minimum gesture for any teacher aspiring to be GREAT to show the kids that he or she cared. Once they know you cared, classroom problems became so much more manageable. (At least less people talk and sleep out of respect or fear.)
One month ago I couldn’t wait to leave. Now I couldn’t bear to leave.
Life has to go on, and the doors of NIE are waiting. As I stepped towards it, I knew I am stepping closer to my destiny. That is, to become
GREAT Teacher Onizulang.
Sunday, July 23, 2006
Comments from an Outsider
Today I was taken aback by the comments of the groundsman at my evening game. (i.e. the uncle in charge of opening the gates
and setting up the corner flags.)
"You guys did not lose your temper despite getting hacked at the legs
throughout the game. Played like how real men should. Really very good!"
Being a seasoned spectator of weekend games, his words really struck me deeply.
We were very flattered indeed, although personally for me I was used to all these hackings and hard challenges from opposing strikers and wingers. It was all part of the game. I just did not expect to be praised for the way I had beening playing (for so many years).
There was this #16 from the other team. Very rash. Kept making silly challenges. I could have blown my top, but for what? We were already leading. It would be silly to get a card or even sent off. Instead, I just told my defenders that
"Number 16 is not playing for the ball. Be careful of him. Watch out for your legs."
While in my mind I told myself that he would deserve a hard tackle from me if the opportunity presented itself. He took an extra touch while controlling a high ball from his defender. I saw that and went straight in with a shoulder barge (plus a hidden elbow). Although it was not enough to send him to the ground, it was enough to rob the ball from him considering
he was of a stronger physique than me.
Don't lose your temper, but yet don't lose your courage. When someone charges at you, you can either soften up and run away, lose your temper and slog it out, or keep your cool and strike them when they were vulnerable.
The fox in me chose the last of them. Never knew Ah Lang was such a vicious and cunning guy right? Try telling me to relax when #16 kept on whacking my friends' legs like they were rubber instead of bones.
They did put us under considerable pressure for their hard approach to the game. But we simply did not give up and lose our cool when it mattered most.
Sounds like handy advice to all those aspiring real men out there.
Well, the score line did not lie. We won the game 7-1.
and setting up the corner flags.)
"You guys did not lose your temper despite getting hacked at the legs
throughout the game. Played like how real men should. Really very good!"
Being a seasoned spectator of weekend games, his words really struck me deeply.
We were very flattered indeed, although personally for me I was used to all these hackings and hard challenges from opposing strikers and wingers. It was all part of the game. I just did not expect to be praised for the way I had beening playing (for so many years).
There was this #16 from the other team. Very rash. Kept making silly challenges. I could have blown my top, but for what? We were already leading. It would be silly to get a card or even sent off. Instead, I just told my defenders that
"Number 16 is not playing for the ball. Be careful of him. Watch out for your legs."
While in my mind I told myself that he would deserve a hard tackle from me if the opportunity presented itself. He took an extra touch while controlling a high ball from his defender. I saw that and went straight in with a shoulder barge (plus a hidden elbow). Although it was not enough to send him to the ground, it was enough to rob the ball from him considering
he was of a stronger physique than me.
Don't lose your temper, but yet don't lose your courage. When someone charges at you, you can either soften up and run away, lose your temper and slog it out, or keep your cool and strike them when they were vulnerable.
The fox in me chose the last of them. Never knew Ah Lang was such a vicious and cunning guy right? Try telling me to relax when #16 kept on whacking my friends' legs like they were rubber instead of bones.
They did put us under considerable pressure for their hard approach to the game. But we simply did not give up and lose our cool when it mattered most.
Sounds like handy advice to all those aspiring real men out there.
Well, the score line did not lie. We won the game 7-1.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
A Smile After a Defeat
My team had lost an important match just now by 0-1. The goal we had conceded was rather ridiculous too. A harmless look chip which dropped into our far post. It left us dumbfounded right from the 5th minute of the game.
Instead of rallying ourselves for a comeback, we just got pushed harder by the opponents. They were coming at us with full force. Their defenders kept pumping the long balls towards each of our defenders. I was guilty of missing one of them. I misjudged one of the goal kicks and did not make a clean connection with my head despite being under little pressure. The winger gleefully latched onto my mistake and sped past me.
No one gets the ball and speed past Ah Lang.
When that happens, the priority would no longer be the ball, but the man. I sprinted back and wrestled him down to the ground with my arms. A yellow card was still better than conceding a goal.
Worst was to come. Our sweeper was injured towards the end of the first half. Fortunately, the ref blew for the interval. Our captain was fustrated with our approach again. We gave them too much respect. Yes they are a decent team, but we needed to play our own game as well. Containing them and being passive would never help.
"Ah Lang, 2nd half the centre is yours. I'm injured."
I am not new to the sweeper position. It was a position which I could play. You only need 2 things to play as a sweeper.
Confidence and determination.
Confidence as in going in for the ball once you had made up your mind. No hesitation. No doubts. If unfortunately a mistake is made, just shrug it off and fight on. That is were determination comes in. Most of time when I played well I had these 2 things in mind all the time. I knew I had to draw them out today.
On some other days when I am more cautious, I would still track and follow the player as a SWEEPER even if the opponent had beaten my defender. For fuck man, really. For fuck? Today I did the right thing.
Just slide the bugger lah!
Miss the ball never mind. Once he had beaten my defender it would be the cue to go in. The only chance to get the ball (or man) before he accelerates and pushes the ball past me. This is my commitment to all my defenders. I will cover all of you. Just go in for the tackles. Don't worry about your backs. Nobody will beat me.
Despite the game ended at 0-1, we had played an awesome 2nd half. Nothing went through my defence. The attackers even had a goal disallowed. We had lost the game, but we had not lost our pride. Football is just like life. Good things only happen when we are able to cast away the fear of making mistakes and surge forward inexorably.
Don't be afraid of making mistakes. They will still come no matter how cautious we are. Just bear them in mind and face the next one bravely. They will never get us down unless we let them.
I would never have slided if I was afraid of not getting the ball. Was standing still and inviting them to beat you better or sliding in with the chance of getting the ball? Even if the slide did not get the ball, I could always pick myself up and hunt down the opponent and nudge him off it.
The scars and scratches found on my legs do not lie. I couldn't even walk straight. The knock on my left knee literally left me limping for life. But for the first time in a long time,
I was able to smile even after a defeat.
Instead of rallying ourselves for a comeback, we just got pushed harder by the opponents. They were coming at us with full force. Their defenders kept pumping the long balls towards each of our defenders. I was guilty of missing one of them. I misjudged one of the goal kicks and did not make a clean connection with my head despite being under little pressure. The winger gleefully latched onto my mistake and sped past me.
No one gets the ball and speed past Ah Lang.
When that happens, the priority would no longer be the ball, but the man. I sprinted back and wrestled him down to the ground with my arms. A yellow card was still better than conceding a goal.
Worst was to come. Our sweeper was injured towards the end of the first half. Fortunately, the ref blew for the interval. Our captain was fustrated with our approach again. We gave them too much respect. Yes they are a decent team, but we needed to play our own game as well. Containing them and being passive would never help.
"Ah Lang, 2nd half the centre is yours. I'm injured."
I am not new to the sweeper position. It was a position which I could play. You only need 2 things to play as a sweeper.
Confidence and determination.
Confidence as in going in for the ball once you had made up your mind. No hesitation. No doubts. If unfortunately a mistake is made, just shrug it off and fight on. That is were determination comes in. Most of time when I played well I had these 2 things in mind all the time. I knew I had to draw them out today.
On some other days when I am more cautious, I would still track and follow the player as a SWEEPER even if the opponent had beaten my defender. For fuck man, really. For fuck? Today I did the right thing.
Just slide the bugger lah!
Miss the ball never mind. Once he had beaten my defender it would be the cue to go in. The only chance to get the ball (or man) before he accelerates and pushes the ball past me. This is my commitment to all my defenders. I will cover all of you. Just go in for the tackles. Don't worry about your backs. Nobody will beat me.
Despite the game ended at 0-1, we had played an awesome 2nd half. Nothing went through my defence. The attackers even had a goal disallowed. We had lost the game, but we had not lost our pride. Football is just like life. Good things only happen when we are able to cast away the fear of making mistakes and surge forward inexorably.
Don't be afraid of making mistakes. They will still come no matter how cautious we are. Just bear them in mind and face the next one bravely. They will never get us down unless we let them.
I would never have slided if I was afraid of not getting the ball. Was standing still and inviting them to beat you better or sliding in with the chance of getting the ball? Even if the slide did not get the ball, I could always pick myself up and hunt down the opponent and nudge him off it.
The scars and scratches found on my legs do not lie. I couldn't even walk straight. The knock on my left knee literally left me limping for life. But for the first time in a long time,
I was able to smile even after a defeat.
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Ri Sou no Sekai
I had been guilty for not posting new entries for a long time. I would love to return to my more prolific days while I was in the army, but circumstances simply did not allow. Weekends then were carefree and I could do whatever I wished, be it resting or having fun. Weekends after I had started work became backup days for unfinished work.
Unfortunately, time seemed to be slipping out of my hands ever since I got more entrenched in the schedule that the National Institute of Education (NIE) had in stored for me.
It would be enlightening to mention what had I been doing for the past few weeks. I was officially matriculated into NIE on Monday (190606). Tuesday (200606) was a free day because it was the registration date for trainees with surnames from L to Z. Had to return for a short briefing from 1030 to 1200 on Wednesday (210606). Then there was a crash course for us on Thursday (220606) and Friday (230606 )to prepare us for our month long school postings starting on the following week. This crash course was officially known as the Teacher Preparatory Programme (TPP).
TPP was very helpful for freshly ORD-ed SAF personnels like me. For blur people still accustomed to taking orders from others in the army, this hectic 2 day course aimed at developing basic skills to control a bunch of kids was a godsend! Imagine going into a class of 40 students without knowing what to do... Being pushed around by kids would definitely be worse than being pushed around by a Black Sadistic Man (BSM). Nonetheless I would have the full impact of my civilian status thrust upon me regardless of whether I had completely shaken off my military consciousness. When a company size (BRC context) of kids greet in unison to the Great One in their class like the following,
"Goooooood Morning MR Khoo."
It would be so difficult to get accustomed to the new way people address me since barely less than a month ago,
I was still called "Corporal Khoo".
I would no longer be the soldier who had a rank permanently prefixed to his name. More examples?
"I, CPL Khoo Shun Chih, NRIC Number 81@()*@#_)*@$&@~?!?@$)$*%#!!!)(C, declare that, I do not possess any live rounds, empty cartridges, or any other forms of pyrotechnics, IN MY POSSESSION SIR!"
I would no longer be the bangalah who would sweep the leaves at the ring of fire in the mornings.
And I would definitely no longer be the man who would hold a rifle and protect the sacred gates of our camp.
Speaking of the guard room, it reminded me of Ah Wan (the RP) on my ORD day. Although I do not know him well enough to be able to rattle off the brand of his underwear without thinking, we became more than just acquaintances from the few encounters we had while I was on duty.
When I first saw him at the guard room that day, he was smoking alone at the flight of staircase outside the office. I went over and sat beside him for one last good chat before we parted for good. When he finished his last puff, he put his arm firmly on my shoulder and shoved me to the gate. The disappointment in his eyes as he opened the gate for me for the last time was so excruciating to my memory.
"Good luck, and don't look back on your way out."
It seemed strange at first, since that was only said to inmates who had completed their sentences as a reminder to them not to return to the prison. More importantly, it was a well wish to look forward and begin a new life. The army did feel like a prison to many of us in some sense.
I do not even know Ah Wan's full mandarin name (and vice versa), and yet both of us clicked like long friends. This is the magic of the army. Irregardless of language, race, religion, and education level, 2 total strangers who do not have a big difference in rank could still hit it off like old pals all in the name of "living the same shit life". A solidarity shared only among SAF personnels. Chances are it would not even be half as easy to make friends like that out there in the civilian world.
That is why army friends are all the more valuable.
I was fortunate to have a long chat with Weiting while he was standing in as COS on the same day. He spoke of his tired attempts at SOC, and only he and Ming Shun was left running for it. I knew Ronald wasn't a skiver as to the perceptions of many people. Despite his penchant for tears, he always took things in his stride like the steadfast man he had always been. No cheating, always does his best to whatever his capacity allowed. Although he never admitted it, he always adopted the "take it like a man and don't run away approach" towards many unpleasant things in his life.
You go, man!
And I was pleasantly surprised when Siwei and Egg messaged me over MSN the other day. They were asking me how was life in NIE, and did I befriend any pretty student teachers along the way. Same old shit from them, but I could not help but NOT to disappoint.
YES I did get to know some pretty student teachers!
That was a heartwarming MSN session despite being short. Somehow I missed the friends back in Bedok camp.
I had even went back today to pick some tickets for the NDP rehearsal this evening (Thanks to OC who offered them over MSN early in the morning). Unfortunately I was not able to attend it because I recalled the need to buy a new pair of soccer boots for tomorrow's game only at the eleventh hour. (My previous pair was rather badly damaged.) Anyway I haven't finished marking 3E's chem worksheets so that further compelled me to stay at home.
While in the office today I was pleasantly surprised to see Alfred as the COS. He was my other bunk mate apart from Ronald. It had been a long time since I last spoke to him and the chat with him today really brought back smiles and tears.
Come to think of it, I missed his late night strumming of the guitar strings coupled with the emotional enactment of James Blunt's "You're Beautiful". Alfred is really a talented musician.
My Saturday had not been as fruitful as I had wanted it to be. Would love to be at the stadium but had work to do. Would love to meet up with more friends but I was careless and did not approach them earlier in the week.
I should not grumble at the consequences caused by my lack of actions.
Heh, at least I am finally back to my blog! I was so occupied last saturday with preparing lesson notes that I didn't even have time for anything else. I should be thankful that I still have some time left for my blog today :)
Have to sleep early. Got an important game tomorrow morning against a good team. I will not make the same stupid mistake that I did the other time.
As I make the abrupt but inevitable transition from a slow paced, stress free world of the army to a hectic one in the education sector, I couldn't help but to miss the comforts of the former. Humans are cheapskate. We miss things only when they are no longer around. Maybe I would miss my current life one day.
That should not be the way.
We should appreciate the world that we belong to in whichever part of our lives right then, and not after. Because at that stage of our lives, they are our Ri Sou no Sekai.
The Ideal World.
Unfortunately, time seemed to be slipping out of my hands ever since I got more entrenched in the schedule that the National Institute of Education (NIE) had in stored for me.
It would be enlightening to mention what had I been doing for the past few weeks. I was officially matriculated into NIE on Monday (190606). Tuesday (200606) was a free day because it was the registration date for trainees with surnames from L to Z. Had to return for a short briefing from 1030 to 1200 on Wednesday (210606). Then there was a crash course for us on Thursday (220606) and Friday (230606 )to prepare us for our month long school postings starting on the following week. This crash course was officially known as the Teacher Preparatory Programme (TPP).
TPP was very helpful for freshly ORD-ed SAF personnels like me. For blur people still accustomed to taking orders from others in the army, this hectic 2 day course aimed at developing basic skills to control a bunch of kids was a godsend! Imagine going into a class of 40 students without knowing what to do... Being pushed around by kids would definitely be worse than being pushed around by a Black Sadistic Man (BSM). Nonetheless I would have the full impact of my civilian status thrust upon me regardless of whether I had completely shaken off my military consciousness. When a company size (BRC context) of kids greet in unison to the Great One in their class like the following,
"Goooooood Morning MR Khoo."
It would be so difficult to get accustomed to the new way people address me since barely less than a month ago,
I was still called "Corporal Khoo".
I would no longer be the soldier who had a rank permanently prefixed to his name. More examples?
"I, CPL Khoo Shun Chih, NRIC Number 81@()*@#_)*@$&@~?!?@$)$*%#!!!)(C, declare that, I do not possess any live rounds, empty cartridges, or any other forms of pyrotechnics, IN MY POSSESSION SIR!"
I would no longer be the bangalah who would sweep the leaves at the ring of fire in the mornings.
And I would definitely no longer be the man who would hold a rifle and protect the sacred gates of our camp.
Speaking of the guard room, it reminded me of Ah Wan (the RP) on my ORD day. Although I do not know him well enough to be able to rattle off the brand of his underwear without thinking, we became more than just acquaintances from the few encounters we had while I was on duty.
When I first saw him at the guard room that day, he was smoking alone at the flight of staircase outside the office. I went over and sat beside him for one last good chat before we parted for good. When he finished his last puff, he put his arm firmly on my shoulder and shoved me to the gate. The disappointment in his eyes as he opened the gate for me for the last time was so excruciating to my memory.
"Good luck, and don't look back on your way out."
It seemed strange at first, since that was only said to inmates who had completed their sentences as a reminder to them not to return to the prison. More importantly, it was a well wish to look forward and begin a new life. The army did feel like a prison to many of us in some sense.
I do not even know Ah Wan's full mandarin name (and vice versa), and yet both of us clicked like long friends. This is the magic of the army. Irregardless of language, race, religion, and education level, 2 total strangers who do not have a big difference in rank could still hit it off like old pals all in the name of "living the same shit life". A solidarity shared only among SAF personnels. Chances are it would not even be half as easy to make friends like that out there in the civilian world.
That is why army friends are all the more valuable.
I was fortunate to have a long chat with Weiting while he was standing in as COS on the same day. He spoke of his tired attempts at SOC, and only he and Ming Shun was left running for it. I knew Ronald wasn't a skiver as to the perceptions of many people. Despite his penchant for tears, he always took things in his stride like the steadfast man he had always been. No cheating, always does his best to whatever his capacity allowed. Although he never admitted it, he always adopted the "take it like a man and don't run away approach" towards many unpleasant things in his life.
You go, man!
And I was pleasantly surprised when Siwei and Egg messaged me over MSN the other day. They were asking me how was life in NIE, and did I befriend any pretty student teachers along the way. Same old shit from them, but I could not help but NOT to disappoint.
YES I did get to know some pretty student teachers!
That was a heartwarming MSN session despite being short. Somehow I missed the friends back in Bedok camp.
I had even went back today to pick some tickets for the NDP rehearsal this evening (Thanks to OC who offered them over MSN early in the morning). Unfortunately I was not able to attend it because I recalled the need to buy a new pair of soccer boots for tomorrow's game only at the eleventh hour. (My previous pair was rather badly damaged.) Anyway I haven't finished marking 3E's chem worksheets so that further compelled me to stay at home.
While in the office today I was pleasantly surprised to see Alfred as the COS. He was my other bunk mate apart from Ronald. It had been a long time since I last spoke to him and the chat with him today really brought back smiles and tears.
Come to think of it, I missed his late night strumming of the guitar strings coupled with the emotional enactment of James Blunt's "You're Beautiful". Alfred is really a talented musician.
My Saturday had not been as fruitful as I had wanted it to be. Would love to be at the stadium but had work to do. Would love to meet up with more friends but I was careless and did not approach them earlier in the week.
I should not grumble at the consequences caused by my lack of actions.
Heh, at least I am finally back to my blog! I was so occupied last saturday with preparing lesson notes that I didn't even have time for anything else. I should be thankful that I still have some time left for my blog today :)
Have to sleep early. Got an important game tomorrow morning against a good team. I will not make the same stupid mistake that I did the other time.
As I make the abrupt but inevitable transition from a slow paced, stress free world of the army to a hectic one in the education sector, I couldn't help but to miss the comforts of the former. Humans are cheapskate. We miss things only when they are no longer around. Maybe I would miss my current life one day.
That should not be the way.
We should appreciate the world that we belong to in whichever part of our lives right then, and not after. Because at that stage of our lives, they are our Ri Sou no Sekai.
The Ideal World.
Friday, June 16, 2006
La Albicelestes
After revealing my devil's horns as a compulsive football gambler, I shall be shameless and admit that I had betted on Argentina to win tonight. After watching most of the first round matches and keeping up with the relevant scores,
Argentina is really the best team in the tournament so far.
The way they played epitomised how football should be after all. Keeping the ball on the ground, neat (i.e. short and quick) passes, always running and supporting one another, intelligent flicks, willingness to take on defenders in the box, and clinical finishing.
All shining examples of excellent technique and brilliant teamwork.
Like Greece who won the 2004 European Championships, Argentina also played to win. But that was where their similarities ended. Greece was a low class team which played negative football. Their priority was not to concede, and were not afraid to clear balls shamelessly back at the opponents. Keeping possession of the ball had never been their priority. They did not have the maturity and technique to do that anyway. They relied on set pieces to carve out their winners. The Czech Republic and Portugal were entertaining sides which played attractive attacking football. It was a real anguish for them to bow out in similar fashions to low class Greek corners. If you had not realised by now,
I hated Greek football to the core.
To be fair to them, the style of stifling and camping was a natural tactic for less accomplished teams against better opponents. I was guilty of employing that tactic during my stint as captain for my hall team. I had instructed my team to play just like that against TH, the defending champions. Although we did win eventually with a score of 1-0, and celebrated as if we had won the world cup, I knew football should not be played that way in my capacity as a football fan with a conscience.
Whatever we do in life should be proactive and positive, and not passive and negative. We should not be afraid of failure, because from the mistakes made we will learn to improve ourselves.
The Greek triumph plunged world football into dispair. Everyone saw for themselves the pragmatic worth of negative football and began emulating them in their teams. The popular formation of 4-4-2 was soon to be replaced by 4-5-1 in many leagues in the world, most notably the EPL. Chelski led the revolution, with their team built by Morinho worshipping the 4-5-1 religion. A solid defence coupled with a destructive defensive mid would starve the opponents of any chances. They would then attack on the counter and pump those long balls for the lone strong striker to chase.
Minimal risk, maximal capitalisation.
The mother fuckers of football. Even Man U had to change and adapt to that style. Gone were the days of Ferguson's huge successful 4-4-2 with two black dogs in front (Andy Cole and Dwight Yorke). The Man U of late was spotted with a 4-5-1 as well, with Van Nisterooy playing the lone strong striker up front too. Of course there were teams which played with attacking formations and styles like Barcelona and Arsenal. I was only trying to make the point that the trend was shifting towards 4-5-1 and negative football thanks to the Greeks.
Even Arsenal changed to 4-5-1 in Champions League 05/06 to impress with their 10 game run without conceding a goal.
Fine, I had been too judgemental here. It would be tactically unwise to risk opening up precious space and inviting the counter attacks by adopting an all out gungho style of play. This tactical imprudence would escalate to a disaster if the opponents are stronger than you. Examples?
Try asking Singapore to play an all out attacking style against Brazil and see what will happen.
Since the bulk of the world are teams lacking in calibre, it definitely warms the heart when a team of true pedigree like the current Argentina squad showed the world how football should be played.
Some frightening statistics. Argentina scored all of their 8 goals (so far) IN THE PENALTY BOX, and all were by foot. None of their goals were created by high balls.
One aspect of their game which totally impressed me, was how they perfected the triangles. It wasn't difficult to spot those beautiful triangles sprawled all over the pitch in whatever positions. Whenever Heinze got the ball, Sorin would spread wide and Cambiasso would back track. 1 triangle. Similarly for the other side, Ayala would be supported by Mascherano and Burdisso. Once either of the centre mids got the ball, midfield ace Riquelme would drift slight between them to form yet another triangle. If Riquelme had his back facing his own goal, he would just lay it back for the ball to be sprayed wide until the opponents would be drawn out. IF he received the ball facing the opponent's goal, the 2 strikers Saviola and Crespo would support to form the final triangle. If Riquelme manages to thread a through pass to either one of them,
Good game.
But why all the fuss about triangles? Not considering degenerate digons (i.e. straight lines), triangles are the polygons with the least number of sides. This means that they are easy to form (3 vertices equals to 3 players. Minimal waste of manpower), and allow the ball to cover a lot of ground in the least number of passes (Only need 2 passes to cover the rest of the vertices).
The prowess of the Argentines with their triangles do not lie. The second goal against Serbia and Montenegro was a classic. 24 passes leading up to that goal which Cambiasso finished it off with the simplest of touches.
That goal alone was enough for me to root for them all the way in this world cup. La Albicelestes.
The White and Sky Blue.
Argentina is really the best team in the tournament so far.
The way they played epitomised how football should be after all. Keeping the ball on the ground, neat (i.e. short and quick) passes, always running and supporting one another, intelligent flicks, willingness to take on defenders in the box, and clinical finishing.
All shining examples of excellent technique and brilliant teamwork.
Like Greece who won the 2004 European Championships, Argentina also played to win. But that was where their similarities ended. Greece was a low class team which played negative football. Their priority was not to concede, and were not afraid to clear balls shamelessly back at the opponents. Keeping possession of the ball had never been their priority. They did not have the maturity and technique to do that anyway. They relied on set pieces to carve out their winners. The Czech Republic and Portugal were entertaining sides which played attractive attacking football. It was a real anguish for them to bow out in similar fashions to low class Greek corners. If you had not realised by now,
I hated Greek football to the core.
To be fair to them, the style of stifling and camping was a natural tactic for less accomplished teams against better opponents. I was guilty of employing that tactic during my stint as captain for my hall team. I had instructed my team to play just like that against TH, the defending champions. Although we did win eventually with a score of 1-0, and celebrated as if we had won the world cup, I knew football should not be played that way in my capacity as a football fan with a conscience.
Whatever we do in life should be proactive and positive, and not passive and negative. We should not be afraid of failure, because from the mistakes made we will learn to improve ourselves.
The Greek triumph plunged world football into dispair. Everyone saw for themselves the pragmatic worth of negative football and began emulating them in their teams. The popular formation of 4-4-2 was soon to be replaced by 4-5-1 in many leagues in the world, most notably the EPL. Chelski led the revolution, with their team built by Morinho worshipping the 4-5-1 religion. A solid defence coupled with a destructive defensive mid would starve the opponents of any chances. They would then attack on the counter and pump those long balls for the lone strong striker to chase.
Minimal risk, maximal capitalisation.
The mother fuckers of football. Even Man U had to change and adapt to that style. Gone were the days of Ferguson's huge successful 4-4-2 with two black dogs in front (Andy Cole and Dwight Yorke). The Man U of late was spotted with a 4-5-1 as well, with Van Nisterooy playing the lone strong striker up front too. Of course there were teams which played with attacking formations and styles like Barcelona and Arsenal. I was only trying to make the point that the trend was shifting towards 4-5-1 and negative football thanks to the Greeks.
Even Arsenal changed to 4-5-1 in Champions League 05/06 to impress with their 10 game run without conceding a goal.
Fine, I had been too judgemental here. It would be tactically unwise to risk opening up precious space and inviting the counter attacks by adopting an all out gungho style of play. This tactical imprudence would escalate to a disaster if the opponents are stronger than you. Examples?
Try asking Singapore to play an all out attacking style against Brazil and see what will happen.
Since the bulk of the world are teams lacking in calibre, it definitely warms the heart when a team of true pedigree like the current Argentina squad showed the world how football should be played.
Some frightening statistics. Argentina scored all of their 8 goals (so far) IN THE PENALTY BOX, and all were by foot. None of their goals were created by high balls.
One aspect of their game which totally impressed me, was how they perfected the triangles. It wasn't difficult to spot those beautiful triangles sprawled all over the pitch in whatever positions. Whenever Heinze got the ball, Sorin would spread wide and Cambiasso would back track. 1 triangle. Similarly for the other side, Ayala would be supported by Mascherano and Burdisso. Once either of the centre mids got the ball, midfield ace Riquelme would drift slight between them to form yet another triangle. If Riquelme had his back facing his own goal, he would just lay it back for the ball to be sprayed wide until the opponents would be drawn out. IF he received the ball facing the opponent's goal, the 2 strikers Saviola and Crespo would support to form the final triangle. If Riquelme manages to thread a through pass to either one of them,
Good game.
But why all the fuss about triangles? Not considering degenerate digons (i.e. straight lines), triangles are the polygons with the least number of sides. This means that they are easy to form (3 vertices equals to 3 players. Minimal waste of manpower), and allow the ball to cover a lot of ground in the least number of passes (Only need 2 passes to cover the rest of the vertices).
The prowess of the Argentines with their triangles do not lie. The second goal against Serbia and Montenegro was a classic. 24 passes leading up to that goal which Cambiasso finished it off with the simplest of touches.
That goal alone was enough for me to root for them all the way in this world cup. La Albicelestes.
The White and Sky Blue.
Sweden versus Paraguay
Many would doubt why I had expressed interest in such a low profile match, especially when it did not involve the seeded or high profile teams like England or Brazil. However, the bulk of the first round games were low class shit. The only good games decidedly were Poland vs Ecuador, Argentina vs Ivory Coast, and Australia vs Japan. The English games were so boring and lousy that I had difficulty keeping awake. Brazil were also playing more of European football than their world renowned samba.
Determined not to waste time watching lousy games, I scoured second round fixtures for a truly entertaining game.
Sweden versus Paraguay fitted the bill, since both teams needed a win to keep their world cup hopes alive. Enough ingredient to make the match a genuine contest.
That made me stay up this morning to catch the match live on RTM 1.
Right from the first whistle, Sweden made their intentions very clear. From their sense of urgency and shoot on sight policy, the Paraguayans would be idiots if they had not figured out what was in Swedish minds.
There was certainly no lack of creativity about Sweden, with most of the good things flowing from Ljungberg and Kim Kallstrom, who had been restored to the side by coach Lars Lagerback.
Just 15 minutes into the game, Kallstrom struck a fantastic left-footed shot from 25 yards after picking up Ibrahimovic's chested pass but Aldo Bobadilla pulled off a tremendous diving save. It was such a pity that a good shot like that could not go in.
10 minutes later Kallstrom stuck again. He drove in a thunderous volley from 30 yards that was too high but sparked an impressive Mexican wave from the 72,000 fans, overwhelmingly Swedish, in the Olympic Stadium.
Kallstrom was beginning to make his mark in the game.
On the 32nd minute, Sweden almost paid the price for their lack of poor finishing in front of goal. Paraguay finally created a decent chance but Roque Santa Cruz snatched at his shot from the edge of the box and watched the ball fly wide.
His strike partner Nelson Valdez then tried his luck but was no closer with a wild volley. Valdez was one of the few Paraguayan players who truly earned my respect. Against the English, he continued to cover every blade of grass on the pitch industriously despite his conspicuous shag face.
Without taking a drink every now and then unlike the English muti millionaire stars. Fucking wimps.
Tonight again Valdez showed why he was worth the accoladates showered upon him. If there was Paraguayan who deserved to score tonight, it must be him.
On the contrary the Swedish star Zlatan Ibrahimovic was playing football which was bereft of his pedigree and pre match hype. He never looked like he was ever going to threaten the Paraguayan defence. All his contributions was to control the long balls and lay off to others. No dribbles, no through passes.
No courage to try.
Determined not to waste time watching lousy games, I scoured second round fixtures for a truly entertaining game.
Sweden versus Paraguay fitted the bill, since both teams needed a win to keep their world cup hopes alive. Enough ingredient to make the match a genuine contest.
That made me stay up this morning to catch the match live on RTM 1.
Right from the first whistle, Sweden made their intentions very clear. From their sense of urgency and shoot on sight policy, the Paraguayans would be idiots if they had not figured out what was in Swedish minds.
There was certainly no lack of creativity about Sweden, with most of the good things flowing from Ljungberg and Kim Kallstrom, who had been restored to the side by coach Lars Lagerback.
Just 15 minutes into the game, Kallstrom struck a fantastic left-footed shot from 25 yards after picking up Ibrahimovic's chested pass but Aldo Bobadilla pulled off a tremendous diving save. It was such a pity that a good shot like that could not go in.
10 minutes later Kallstrom stuck again. He drove in a thunderous volley from 30 yards that was too high but sparked an impressive Mexican wave from the 72,000 fans, overwhelmingly Swedish, in the Olympic Stadium.
Kallstrom was beginning to make his mark in the game.
On the 32nd minute, Sweden almost paid the price for their lack of poor finishing in front of goal. Paraguay finally created a decent chance but Roque Santa Cruz snatched at his shot from the edge of the box and watched the ball fly wide.
His strike partner Nelson Valdez then tried his luck but was no closer with a wild volley. Valdez was one of the few Paraguayan players who truly earned my respect. Against the English, he continued to cover every blade of grass on the pitch industriously despite his conspicuous shag face.
Without taking a drink every now and then unlike the English muti millionaire stars. Fucking wimps.
Tonight again Valdez showed why he was worth the accoladates showered upon him. If there was Paraguayan who deserved to score tonight, it must be him.
On the contrary the Swedish star Zlatan Ibrahimovic was playing football which was bereft of his pedigree and pre match hype. He never looked like he was ever going to threaten the Paraguayan defence. All his contributions was to control the long balls and lay off to others. No dribbles, no through passes.
No courage to try.
He was deservedly substituted at the break with Marcus Allback, once of Aston Villa.
Paraguay never gave up although Sweden had the bulk of the possession and decent chances. But it was them who threatened first to break the deadlock with Nelson Valdez again turning away from two defenders before hammering the ball into the side-netting.
Valdez drove wide again after turning past Olof Mellberg, then Bobadilla turned aside Larsson's fierce free-kick after Ljungberg had been felled right on the edge of the box.
Roberto Acuna sent a low strike thudding into Isaksson's arms, before a poor offside decision saw Kallstrom halted with the goal at his mercy.
Finally at the 70th minute mark, I thought the game had been settled. Sweden thought they had done it when Tobias Linderoth's ball over the top caught Paraguay flat-footed, and
Allback had chipped the ball over the oncoming keeper!!!
He had an empty goal all to his mercy with the ball destined to land inside the it. Surely this must break the deadlock. However as complacency descended upon him, his lack of the urgency to confirm the goal invited the chance for Caniza to arrive in the nick of time to acrobatically hook the ball off the line.
What a let off for Paraguay.
That gave a sucker punch to Sweden in the stomach, for all that they were worth for in the rest of the match was to return the ball back to a resolute Paraguayan team with 10 men behind the it. No way would they be able to penetrate a Paraguayan team awoke by that screamer of a lob minutes before. Sweden just could not score in this world cup, despite being one of the most prolific teams in the European qualifying campaigns.
Just as all seemed lost, salvation arrived with two minutes left for the Swedes, thanks greatly to substitute Johan Elmander who delivered a peach of a cross to Allback at the far post.
He unselfishly chose to head the ball back across the six-yard box rather than go for goal himself. Ljungberg saw it and gratefully arrived in the nick of time to direct a header into the net!
GOAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
With less than 5 minutes of playing time left (including extra time), the game was good as over. It had been a great match. Lots of tension, lots of passion, lots of fustration, and finally euphoria at the dead to eradicate any possibility of an anticlimax. I had not stayed up in vain. Most importantly,
I can collect my winnings from the betting outlet later :)
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Simple Man, Simple Life.
Given the month long holiday derived from clearing leave, my blog ought to be flourishing. Unfortunately the contrary was true. I had ample of time but the same could not be said for my inspirations. A blog drought would be an appropriate term to explain this phenomenon.
Comfort dulls the mind indeed.
There were more pressing things to be done in place of blogging. My NUS transcript had to be prepared before I start work in NIE, my passport to be renewed, unpack my duffel bag... Those were considered chores.
Comfort dulls the mind indeed.
There were more pressing things to be done in place of blogging. My NUS transcript had to be prepared before I start work in NIE, my passport to be renewed, unpack my duffel bag... Those were considered chores.
As for leisure activities, I rented books to decorate my table, and met up with friends whom otherwise I seldom got the chance to. (Tuesday dinner with Bollocks, Wednesday K box with hostel friends, Friday dinner with Math Honours classmates, Saturday lunch with my Godsister.) In between those I went shopping with mum and had dinner at Crystal Jade with my sister (real one) and her boyfriend. I had also brought my brother to watch X-Men at Tiong Bahru GV.
Those were my exploits away from home.
As for the other weeks spent at home, I lived life like a wastrel. I no longer wake up at 0600 hours. My actual waking hours would be 5 hours later or so. I eat 2 meals a day (Brunch and Dinner), and I don't exercise. On certain days at my disgusting best, I would play dota from lunch till bed time!
In case anyone thought I was the ultimate loafer around, the saving grace was that I became a MR.
MR as in MaRia.
Maria Khoo would wash the bowls and plates after the meals, vacuum and mop the floor, buy lunch for his brother, keep and fold the laundry, and PACK THE MESSY ROOM (Pigsty) which once belonged to me but was desecrated by my stupid brother over the years I spent away from home.
Let me dwell into the life of Maria.
#1. Wash Bowls.
Soap the forks and spoons first, and wash them off with water above the bowls. The water collected could be used to rinse the other crockery, thus saving water. Soap the crockery and then wash with water. The clean water from the final wash was then poured into a pail for storage.
#2. Vacuuming + Mopping the Floor.
After becoming a pro with brooms from area cleanings in the morning, a vacuum cleaner was a god send! The floor became so much cleaner and easier to clean!
Do not mop the floor WITHOUT ordering KSH (my brother's intials) to wash his feet, unless you want black footprints to emblazon the path where the mighty one once walked.
Tips for homemakers to be : 1 cupful of mop solution in a pail would create too much foam to mop the floor effectively. 1/2 a cup would wonderful.
#3. Brunch
To save money, I stock up on cereals and milk for breakfast. However when my stock got depleted by the freeloader, he would preempt my money saving attempts by dialling for Macdonald breakfast... (Now I know how $10 notes grow wings.)
The Cai Fan (assorted rice) at the kopi tiam downstairs sells for $2.70 for 1 meat, 1 egg, and 1 vege. Not a bad deal for the convenience. But my personal favourite would still be the lasi lemak stall at Tanjong Pagar Hawker Centre. $2.00 for a big packet of rice and meat!
#4. Folding and Keeping Laundry
Just don't fold them like SAF number 4 can already, because there are no ranks, name tags, and guards tabs to display in a ziploc bag or in the cupboard for any black man to see. I would hang my clothes in my cupboard neatly, and throw KSH's ones all over the floor.
#5. PACK THE FUSTRATING ROOM.
Pictures say a thousand words. When I first took over the room after returning from the army, it looked like this:
There was very little space left to maneuver, bed sheets were not laid, and the study table was filled with rubbish instead of books. KSH had abused the table until it became a storage place for his Gundam models instead of a place for him to do his work.
I had to plan a massive refurbishing to rectify the intolerable. Walking space was scarce, and dust was collecting on his trash which were unmoved for years! I had enough of this nonsense. My room was supposed to be a place of comfort satisfying a whole range of purposes like providing a good sleeping environment, training ground for my dribbling skills, exercise area, and study haven.
KSH had ruined them all.
I got down to work immediately. Fortunately SK training in SAF had helped me become more robust towards sickening chores. Synonymous with the ritual that signified my determined intentions at the start of any endeavour,
I took off my shirt and flexed my muscles.
The table (as well as his bag loads of Gundam models) had to go. Easier said than done. The table was too large for the door, and had to be disassembled into its original components for disposal.
For a guy like me with little patience, the fuss of unscrewing all the bolts and nuts was too much to take. I picked up karate on the spot and smashed the fragile wooden planks into halves. That really sped things up and freed up acres of spaces. Then came the unenviable task of arranging his old textbooks properly and folding his clothes that were sprawled all over the place.
Finally after much hard work, my room looked a lot better! Isn't that wonderful?
Just as I was rejoicing...
The monster wreaked havoc again!
I should have known better. Who could resist the temptation to mess up a newly packed room? (Especially it was the from the painstaking efforts of his brother.)
As I stood there shell shocked and close to tears, the state of my room a direct reflection of my mood.
Back to work as usual...
Finally, my room is neater and tidier than before!
I had to be fair to my much maligned brother. The previous 4 pictures were posed (Beginning from the one with KSH in it). I was the one who messed up the room and took a picture of it. I was the one who asked my brother to strike that silly pose. I was the one who pretended to be the mature and sensible brother folding the blanket.
Both of us had nothing better to do, so we decided to have some fun by messing up the room. It had been a years since I had so much fun with KSH. He had been a P4 kid when I first left home for army, and now he is a towering sec 3 adolescent (I'm still taller than you ok!) So glad to have him hanging around during my leave. Home alone for 1 month would be unbearable.
However, it was a real chore motivating him to study during his hols.
In the end I gave up trying. He had been working hard during school to be fair. Let him have some rest and slack for a couple of weeks.
Ideally for me, one month of slacking would apt. Anything longer than that and I would reproach myself for being a bum. Anything shorter and the effect of a rest would not be felt.
As this month draws to a close, I would have to gear myself up for many things. A new life in the working world, and of course the world cup! I would miss this holiday for a long time to come. Not only because I was a simple man living a simple life, but
My life had been brilliant.
Sunday, June 04, 2006
Why Do We Fall Down?
Today my sunday league team went into our fourth game of the season on a high. We were on the top of the table with maximum points. 3 wins out of 3. Deep down inside each of us before the game started, we knew we wanted to win today's game as well, and we were quietly confident we could.
But whoever up there had other plans.
The first half which was below par considered our usual standards. We had created not only more chances than the opponent, but also the closer among the two teams. We had more corners and freekicks than them. We had slightly more possession than them. But we also had our woeful finishing to blame.
The half ended 0-0.
There was a need to up another gear in the second half if we still harboured any hopes of winning this game. We did just that after the restart. Starting brightly, Ah Koh (our striker) connected with Teck's (left winger) perfect cross without a complementing header from our first attack. That signalled our intentions without doubt as to who wanted the game more.
Unfortunately, it had to happen.
Still tied in a deadlock after 20 minutes into the second half, they had a counter attack from one of our corners. Their centre half sprayed the ball to their left wing, who squared the ball across our defence to their striker. I had positioned myself ideally such that I was able to cut out the square ball within one step in front of me and yet not compromising the space behind my right back in case their winger wanted to take him on. I would be there to sweep either ball or man if he tried to push the ball past my player.
As I had said earlier, he chose the safe option and passed a square ball across our defence. That was within my anticipation. All I had to do was perform an usual drill used so many times over the years.
Dig my right boot behind me, push my body forward, and stretch out my left foot to block the ball coming from the right.
It was not a very difficult maneuver, if not I would not even have thought of using it on a league game. Simple was always the best. And yet to my horror, instead of having a firm grip on the ground, my right boot slipped and toppled my balance.
I fell flat on my face.
As I watched the ball trickle nicely to the striker for a shot so helplessly on the ground, I knew chances of it going in was high. My keeper came out to reduce the angle, but it was too little too late. The shot had beaten him.
The first thing I had to do after I go on my feet was to pick up the ball from the net.
Honestly that slip was tragic. It changed the momentum of the game and killed off much of our spirit. It had even damaged my pride to a large extent. All defenders hate to concede goals, and hate even more to commit mistakes that lead to a goal directly. I was guilty of all of the above. I had a fairly good game before that incident. Why a sudden surge of bad luck and caused me to slip? If I had conceded a goal due to not reading the game well I would have felt less exasperated. But something so inexplicable as a slip... If there was a God, I would have raised my middle finger firmly towards and sky and let him know my opinion of him.
"Fuck you God! Haven't you got eyes? Can't you see we don't deserve this shit?"
I was clearly devastated. But somehow I just did not give up on the game. Fuelled by thoughts of "my team had nothing to lose and I could not do anything more stupid than that" in this game, I got more reckless and aggressive. I vented my fustration on the legs of those whoever dared to bring the ball near my tackling radius. I slided whoever I didn't like. (Everyone in fact). No long balls would sail over my head. I returned anything they probed into our defence back with first time headers and clearances. (I didn't have the mind to control the ball and pass to my team mates.)
Even the opponent grew wary of me. They stopped attacking down the centre and tried more of the wings. No use. Ah Lang the possessed wolf was unfatiguable. He just hounded and bit anyone who dared to try him.
In the end he stopped their attacks single-handedly, but he also destroyed his team's attacking play single-handedly. The ball just shifted from their defence to Ah Lang and back. No one was playing other than them and Ah Lang. Nothing was played except for long balls and clearances.
How to attack like that?
Somehow I still believed God existed and God is fair. Clutching my remaining bits and pieces of faith, I screamed a prayer right then.
"If you had eyes, if you are not blind, can you show me some justice?"
Just as I finished, the ball trickled to me from a deflection. For the first time in the game, I did something constructive with the ball. I stopped it and made a clean pass to my right wing (who also happened to be my captain). He seemed to fully understand my intentions, and reciprocated the favour by swivelling his marker and laid a through ball for our striker. He latched onto the through ball and dashed into the penalty box. Two defenders closed him down and maliciously brought him down. You do not have to be an idiot to know he was not diving. His feet was hooked by the defenders. The ref immediately blew his whistle and pointed to the spot.
Penalty!
Our star player (the left wing) stepped up and blasted it to the right, but not without sending him the wrong way in the process.
Somehow the game stagnanted after the penalty. Our defence virtually closed shop by the converting our defensive mid into a stopper. 4 of us plus a sweeper just kept sending the ball back to them first time. The opponents were physically tired as well and their body language suggested a reluctance to attack. The only saving grace was that our wingers and strikers were still diligently chasing down all our long balls and carving out chances of their own. They believed that the goal was a sign to follow up with more, while the defence took it as a sign to close shop.
Finally the whistle went, and the score ended at 1-1. It was a fair result. Both sides deserved something from this game. Despite comforting words from my friends telling me that "we couldn't blame the defence for everything, the goal shy attack was at fault too", "it wasn't my fault", and "a slip was just bad luck, not a mistake", I knew I had to bear some responsibility for it.
We never know when we will take a stumble and fall in life. Sometimes we could see it coming, sometimes we couldn't. And sometimes when we thought we had things well-planned, well-covered, and firmly under control, we could still end up landing on our backsides. The important thing is not to do whatever we can to prevent it, because that will be impossible. We do not have a crystall ball to help us see the future. In fact when it had to happen, it will happen no matter what we do to try prevent it.
The important thing is what we do after we took a tumble.
As I recalled from my captain the things he told me so many times after I had made mistakes during a game,
"Su Lang Mai Su Seh."
Which literally meant you can lose the game but never your pride. Don't make your opponents lose their respect for you when you give up on yourself. Make yourself worthy opponents to others. And of course,
Never give up fighting.
"Ah Lang, don't give up when we are only one goal down. Ji liap nia, must always believe we can come back into the game. Show them what you got!"
Of course his intentions were not to psych me up into the mad tackling man which I became, not to kill their legs, but just to make my presense felt by sticking closer to the man. And don't try risky stuff like intercepting the ball.
Despite the all the unhappiness surrounding that slip, I finally realised why God made that happen. In that brief few minutes while I was playing like a possessed man, I saw through my own eyes the player I was in the past which earned me my nickname "Ah Lang". Ah Lang simply meant "The Wolf", who would hound and bite whoever dared to venture into his territory. The way I played in the past was someone who would chase down any striker or winger and give them bone crunching tackles for their own good.
Seeing Ah Lang play now is a sad story of the past. His tackles had deserted him. Fear of making mistakes had fashioned him into a cautious defender who would only track endlessly without making a single tackle even when he had a clear chance to. Quite simple, a wolf which did not bite. No teeth. "Bo Gay".
God wasn't trying to tell me to play recklessly and injure others. All the more he did not want me to commit opponents aimlessly all the time and lose my position.
All he wanted me to do was to be myself.
The Ah Lang who would tackle to win balls, tackle to stop opponents, tackle to stamp his authority, but never tackle to injure. Ah Lang was always able to end his trackings with a tired opponent stopping to pause for a breath. And while the loser stopped to weigh his options, that Ah Lang tackle would come.
That was how I played in the past which made me enjoy football so much.
If we do not fall down,
How would we ever grow?
But whoever up there had other plans.
The first half which was below par considered our usual standards. We had created not only more chances than the opponent, but also the closer among the two teams. We had more corners and freekicks than them. We had slightly more possession than them. But we also had our woeful finishing to blame.
The half ended 0-0.
There was a need to up another gear in the second half if we still harboured any hopes of winning this game. We did just that after the restart. Starting brightly, Ah Koh (our striker) connected with Teck's (left winger) perfect cross without a complementing header from our first attack. That signalled our intentions without doubt as to who wanted the game more.
Unfortunately, it had to happen.
Still tied in a deadlock after 20 minutes into the second half, they had a counter attack from one of our corners. Their centre half sprayed the ball to their left wing, who squared the ball across our defence to their striker. I had positioned myself ideally such that I was able to cut out the square ball within one step in front of me and yet not compromising the space behind my right back in case their winger wanted to take him on. I would be there to sweep either ball or man if he tried to push the ball past my player.
As I had said earlier, he chose the safe option and passed a square ball across our defence. That was within my anticipation. All I had to do was perform an usual drill used so many times over the years.
Dig my right boot behind me, push my body forward, and stretch out my left foot to block the ball coming from the right.
It was not a very difficult maneuver, if not I would not even have thought of using it on a league game. Simple was always the best. And yet to my horror, instead of having a firm grip on the ground, my right boot slipped and toppled my balance.
I fell flat on my face.
As I watched the ball trickle nicely to the striker for a shot so helplessly on the ground, I knew chances of it going in was high. My keeper came out to reduce the angle, but it was too little too late. The shot had beaten him.
The first thing I had to do after I go on my feet was to pick up the ball from the net.
Honestly that slip was tragic. It changed the momentum of the game and killed off much of our spirit. It had even damaged my pride to a large extent. All defenders hate to concede goals, and hate even more to commit mistakes that lead to a goal directly. I was guilty of all of the above. I had a fairly good game before that incident. Why a sudden surge of bad luck and caused me to slip? If I had conceded a goal due to not reading the game well I would have felt less exasperated. But something so inexplicable as a slip... If there was a God, I would have raised my middle finger firmly towards and sky and let him know my opinion of him.
"Fuck you God! Haven't you got eyes? Can't you see we don't deserve this shit?"
I was clearly devastated. But somehow I just did not give up on the game. Fuelled by thoughts of "my team had nothing to lose and I could not do anything more stupid than that" in this game, I got more reckless and aggressive. I vented my fustration on the legs of those whoever dared to bring the ball near my tackling radius. I slided whoever I didn't like. (Everyone in fact). No long balls would sail over my head. I returned anything they probed into our defence back with first time headers and clearances. (I didn't have the mind to control the ball and pass to my team mates.)
Even the opponent grew wary of me. They stopped attacking down the centre and tried more of the wings. No use. Ah Lang the possessed wolf was unfatiguable. He just hounded and bit anyone who dared to try him.
In the end he stopped their attacks single-handedly, but he also destroyed his team's attacking play single-handedly. The ball just shifted from their defence to Ah Lang and back. No one was playing other than them and Ah Lang. Nothing was played except for long balls and clearances.
How to attack like that?
Somehow I still believed God existed and God is fair. Clutching my remaining bits and pieces of faith, I screamed a prayer right then.
"If you had eyes, if you are not blind, can you show me some justice?"
Just as I finished, the ball trickled to me from a deflection. For the first time in the game, I did something constructive with the ball. I stopped it and made a clean pass to my right wing (who also happened to be my captain). He seemed to fully understand my intentions, and reciprocated the favour by swivelling his marker and laid a through ball for our striker. He latched onto the through ball and dashed into the penalty box. Two defenders closed him down and maliciously brought him down. You do not have to be an idiot to know he was not diving. His feet was hooked by the defenders. The ref immediately blew his whistle and pointed to the spot.
Penalty!
Our star player (the left wing) stepped up and blasted it to the right, but not without sending him the wrong way in the process.
Somehow the game stagnanted after the penalty. Our defence virtually closed shop by the converting our defensive mid into a stopper. 4 of us plus a sweeper just kept sending the ball back to them first time. The opponents were physically tired as well and their body language suggested a reluctance to attack. The only saving grace was that our wingers and strikers were still diligently chasing down all our long balls and carving out chances of their own. They believed that the goal was a sign to follow up with more, while the defence took it as a sign to close shop.
Finally the whistle went, and the score ended at 1-1. It was a fair result. Both sides deserved something from this game. Despite comforting words from my friends telling me that "we couldn't blame the defence for everything, the goal shy attack was at fault too", "it wasn't my fault", and "a slip was just bad luck, not a mistake", I knew I had to bear some responsibility for it.
We never know when we will take a stumble and fall in life. Sometimes we could see it coming, sometimes we couldn't. And sometimes when we thought we had things well-planned, well-covered, and firmly under control, we could still end up landing on our backsides. The important thing is not to do whatever we can to prevent it, because that will be impossible. We do not have a crystall ball to help us see the future. In fact when it had to happen, it will happen no matter what we do to try prevent it.
The important thing is what we do after we took a tumble.
As I recalled from my captain the things he told me so many times after I had made mistakes during a game,
"Su Lang Mai Su Seh."
Which literally meant you can lose the game but never your pride. Don't make your opponents lose their respect for you when you give up on yourself. Make yourself worthy opponents to others. And of course,
Never give up fighting.
"Ah Lang, don't give up when we are only one goal down. Ji liap nia, must always believe we can come back into the game. Show them what you got!"
Of course his intentions were not to psych me up into the mad tackling man which I became, not to kill their legs, but just to make my presense felt by sticking closer to the man. And don't try risky stuff like intercepting the ball.
Despite the all the unhappiness surrounding that slip, I finally realised why God made that happen. In that brief few minutes while I was playing like a possessed man, I saw through my own eyes the player I was in the past which earned me my nickname "Ah Lang". Ah Lang simply meant "The Wolf", who would hound and bite whoever dared to venture into his territory. The way I played in the past was someone who would chase down any striker or winger and give them bone crunching tackles for their own good.
Seeing Ah Lang play now is a sad story of the past. His tackles had deserted him. Fear of making mistakes had fashioned him into a cautious defender who would only track endlessly without making a single tackle even when he had a clear chance to. Quite simple, a wolf which did not bite. No teeth. "Bo Gay".
God wasn't trying to tell me to play recklessly and injure others. All the more he did not want me to commit opponents aimlessly all the time and lose my position.
All he wanted me to do was to be myself.
The Ah Lang who would tackle to win balls, tackle to stop opponents, tackle to stamp his authority, but never tackle to injure. Ah Lang was always able to end his trackings with a tired opponent stopping to pause for a breath. And while the loser stopped to weigh his options, that Ah Lang tackle would come.
That was how I played in the past which made me enjoy football so much.
If we do not fall down,
How would we ever grow?
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