Yesterday, I got a moment to take a while to reflect on my weekend. Not bad, Chelsea won their another FA Cup. I guess, for me, it’s the news of my week. The next few weeks to come, I’m going to lock myself in the dungeon of assignments and if that is not enough, the only escape leads to an ocean of exams. Son-of-a-mushroom. Yesterday’s game was a consolation, basically after a luckless season coupled with some poor results. Well, at least, an FA Cup. It was pretty much a one sided team where Chelsea has been the stronger team on paper and on the sun baked pitch. It was so hot yesterday, in London, making me wondering should I hold on to the promise to my father, bringing him to watch an FA Cup final one day. Kathir’s father went once, at the Millennium Stadium, in Cardiff, Wales and the whole place was packed like a human sardine in a can. Guus left Chelsea on a high note as the beautiful game was the winner. Speaking of the beautiful game, Kathir used to say, that we’re ugly people playing the beautiful game. After having to replace them every time I shave in front of the mirror, I would totally agree with him.

Football. A simple word that meant something totally different in USA and Australia. Pathetic people keep on telling me, football is 22 guys running after a ball. Screw you. Number 1, if you’re an imbecile, you forgot to count in the referee, asshole. Number 2, as far as I know, some fat guys in kemuning Bayu Central Park that doesn’t even know what the hell is the ball, what makes you think they would be chasing after the ball? Number 3, watch a football game please and tell me, do you see 22 guys running after a ball. Come on, use your God given brain. In USA, they love basketball. Come on, what’s so fun about throwing a ball into a loop that cannot move. As long you have to be accurate and chances are high. Don’t let me get started on Aussie Rules, its basically grown-ass man running in circles. And if you still need to find some sports more ridiculous than soccer or anything, try Formula 1, Nascar or motoGP, maybe some automobile racing in general, all they do is race in circle. In one of Jeff Dunham’s act, its so clear, what can you expect from automobile racing? If you take a leak in the middle of the “so-called” sport, do you think you’ll miss anything? How about Malaysian’s favourite Durian eating competition? You figure that out yourself.

Soccer, is what they called it here. Oh, how much I love soccer. Its been a love affair for at least 9 years, as long as I know the “rejected boys”. We used to have some crazy time over soccer. Its soccer that made us know each other better. Lawrence was known for his “cover-up” style while kicking the ball where his hands were covering his chest as if he was boxing. Oh my gosh, that totally explained the missing link between his Thai Kick-boxing skills and his Siamese origin. Then, there was Khor Min Tze with his hilarious style of defending that made our soccer match a new comedy on Channel 7. Once, he (a defender, not a goalkeeper), instead of heading the ball out, he caught the ball with his bare hands as the ball deeps in from a diagonal cross. I was standing right behind him and got the shock of my 12 year old life. Yijien was as shocked as me when he questioned KMT about his ball catching act. KMT answered and I promised you I’m not making this up, he said and I quote, “The ball coming, so I catch lah.” I almost died of laughing too much but made it out of the game and pretty much still alive right now.

Parents love to involve kids in sports but most of the time, they end up in some sort of sour argument as some children would prefer to lock themselves in rooms and play grand theft auto. I love that game but in the meantime, I know a bit of sunshine won’t kill me. I wanted to pick up Badminton, so on the Extra-Curriculum day, I signed up in the Badminton Club but bailed on it last minute as my mum said the training takes place in somewhere a bit too far for her to pick me up. So, instead, I signed up for squash club as most of her friend’s children is in that club too, we can car-wait for it-pool. Car pool, the favorite word of a typical Malaysian housewife+mother on the first day of school. To make my mother’s life happier and mine more miserable, I’ve joined the squash club. Turns out, I’ve met Kishok and a few good people, like Mr. Ong (Our national player, Beng Hee’s father) and Max (His real name is Mark). Even my childhood friend, Hon Kitt is there and JT and kat too played squash. It was quite a journey. I mean, there are 7 really reasonable good players in Seafield High and every year, the State wide open tournament requires 4 players each team. As lucky as I am, I got into the team as they need an extra player for back-up. I know I can’t play and if I do play, I’ll surely end up making a fool of myself. I got paid, free food and got to miss class for 3 days as the team proceed to the semi-finals and got eliminated when JT got smacked by the racquet on the lips. After all that, we, which include a lousy player like me, got ranked as the 3rd best team in the state. Not bad, right? Generally, the moral support I’ve gave through out the game, towels I’ve brought to the players and the drinking water I supplied did manage to encourage the players. I hope.

post – script : Indochinese Monday.

She’s cold as the weather,

Hanjun.