methrowrock | oats we sow (Reply)

It was surreal sitting there in the conference room yesterday. It was as if I had been transplanted to a different world, one that I had loved and forgot. Four or five years ago, it was with the netballers and the permutations of weird, crazy hairstyles. The bus rides to CCAB, trainings with chipped courts and carting rusty goalposts to and fro, the pep talks by Miss Puva and the captains. Two years ago, it was with NJ N2 N3. Our unfailing enthusiasm and funny-times. And not the least, the sense that we were the underdogs who had nothing and desiring to achieve something. Yesterday, the marshaling of fighting spirit and rousing sentiments for the battle against the perennial rivals. The gumption, the drive, the flaming embers. Watching the inspirational videos, I couldn't help but wonder about the sociology of sports. Hahaha, the tell-tale sign of a stressed-out college student trying to compensate for the lack of studying. But why do people do the things that they do? Why do they spontaneously create collectives and compete against one another? It wasn't hard to find the answer behind the gruff narration, spiraling orchestral notes, and antagonistic taglines. "WHAT ARE YOU FIGHTING FOR?", "HOW GREAT CAN YOU BE?"- in essence, the striving to overcome human limits. The opportunity to soar beyond one's piddling existence and mediocre abilities: to rise to the occasion, to be better than one usually is, to achieve technical perfection, to tame and temper certain parts of life within predictable control. If I were a cynical Marxist, sports could well be pictured as a mechanism for ideological domination. Give the proletariat population something to obsess about, maintain their cosmetic happiness in order to safeguard dominant structures, and meanwhile, sell emotions to them, by imbuing connotations in products. But I am not. (I am just a wannabe nerd) How could I be, after yesterday's match? Witnessing team-mates fight tooth and nail for every ball, extending every muscle and nerve possible for that extra inch, retaliating every pass with a clearance; it was inspiring. One was submerged in the electricity of the moment, when the heart and mind was conjoined in a common mission. That was the beauty of the game: teamwork. When one faltered, another stepped up to fill in the gap. Everybody pitched in and shared in the hunger to craft something out of nothing. And the funny thing about sports is that even though it can plunge you into the doldrums, you never walk away entirely deflated. It is not for the lack of trying, and that is an achievement in itself. The ability to stick it through, chest puffed up and head held high, is something surprisingly hard to replicate. So, well-fought and well-done. I am honoured to be part of this team. And it is surprisingly hard to think of things to type about when you have your blog found by three friends in three weeks HAHAHA. LOOKING AT YOU NOW, chan-xiong, boo-jae, and gessgiku! (And of course, lim-xiong) More later.