World Cup: NewWorld, NewCult
Truth be told, I have no interest what so ever towards the so-called the best sport in the world; football.
I still remember calling a friend a poser just because he showed interest in football during World Cup 2006, when he don’t even raised an eyebrow upon hearing the word ‘EPL’ etc. etc. before.
My prejudice towards this sport started as early as I can remember the smell of freshly mowed grass on my primary school field. Oh, only God knows how I hate changing into my PJ outfits. Heck, I even hate the whole day if I ever came across the word ‘PJ’ on the schedule. The commotion in the morning to pack the clothes, the muddy field due to last night’s heavy rain, the sticky sweat on my back that will bother me until the last ring of bell; the thoughts were just the perfect breakfast to ruin my day from the very morning.
Then the real terror began. More terrorizing than the muddy football field: play football. Having no motor skills, lack of mind-body control, and constant thoughts reminding myself to keep my socks dry are the recipe for disaster, even before the whistle blows. Known to all for not having both interest and skills needed in the game, I was always placed near the goal line where I was either the goalie or the defender. In both cases, I sucked. The only reasons I was given such positions are they required less dribble, and more gut (which I didn’t have that much either).
It was normal to me to stay away from the opposing team’s half of the field. A lot of time I found myself sitting on the field, playing kemuncup, or chanting and praying the ball from getting close to my half of field. My ignorance to the game was at the same degree of theirs towards the rule of offside. I also found myself being the last to stepped down the stairs to the field, just so that I have no chance to play the crowded game (as if I want it). Having numbers of bullies as the main players/ teacher’s favourite didn’t help that much of the football’s reputation either.
All of these didn’t mean that I never tried to love the game. In fact, I tried hard. But an evening of football with majority of boys 2-3 years older than me gave me no chance to add any skills that I lacked, ones that will catapult me from the typical ‘kaki bangku’ positions. So much of playing for the sake of playing, when all they want were winning. So, my having no tolerance towards the sport continues through my adolescence- where I found much more people having the same stand as mine. LOL.
But all of a sudden, well not that sudden- for the last couple of years, I had gained back the momentum to kick a ball that I never had for years. The birth of futsal that requires no dipping my feet in after-rain muddy field and no strict requirements on the right shoes gave me the confidence to play it, “just for fun” – quoting from many professional football players. But that’s not all. Having supportive and in-the-same-shoes kind of new friends in varsity also boost (LOL!) my will to play. For once, I have the chance to play among people of same age that I know and will not judge but to help me play right. It’s not like I aim at going professional, just good enough to have fun kicking or more importantly; to not to be laughed at.
So now it never surprised me to find myself watching football while sipping teh tarik; something I would never even think to have two years back. It’s good to be able to response when the topics at the back of newspaper were brought up. It’s good also to talk and argue (and win!) about offside rule with my dad when Portugal scores a ridiculous seven goals last night. I might make myself pathetic writing this down, but who cares?! It felt good to share.
P/s: I said ‘muddy’ too much, didn’t I? What’s ‘lecah’ eh in English?
I still remember calling a friend a poser just because he showed interest in football during World Cup 2006, when he don’t even raised an eyebrow upon hearing the word ‘EPL’ etc. etc. before.
My prejudice towards this sport started as early as I can remember the smell of freshly mowed grass on my primary school field. Oh, only God knows how I hate changing into my PJ outfits. Heck, I even hate the whole day if I ever came across the word ‘PJ’ on the schedule. The commotion in the morning to pack the clothes, the muddy field due to last night’s heavy rain, the sticky sweat on my back that will bother me until the last ring of bell; the thoughts were just the perfect breakfast to ruin my day from the very morning.
Then the real terror began. More terrorizing than the muddy football field: play football. Having no motor skills, lack of mind-body control, and constant thoughts reminding myself to keep my socks dry are the recipe for disaster, even before the whistle blows. Known to all for not having both interest and skills needed in the game, I was always placed near the goal line where I was either the goalie or the defender. In both cases, I sucked. The only reasons I was given such positions are they required less dribble, and more gut (which I didn’t have that much either).
It was normal to me to stay away from the opposing team’s half of the field. A lot of time I found myself sitting on the field, playing kemuncup, or chanting and praying the ball from getting close to my half of field. My ignorance to the game was at the same degree of theirs towards the rule of offside. I also found myself being the last to stepped down the stairs to the field, just so that I have no chance to play the crowded game (as if I want it). Having numbers of bullies as the main players/ teacher’s favourite didn’t help that much of the football’s reputation either.
All of these didn’t mean that I never tried to love the game. In fact, I tried hard. But an evening of football with majority of boys 2-3 years older than me gave me no chance to add any skills that I lacked, ones that will catapult me from the typical ‘kaki bangku’ positions. So much of playing for the sake of playing, when all they want were winning. So, my having no tolerance towards the sport continues through my adolescence- where I found much more people having the same stand as mine. LOL.
But all of a sudden, well not that sudden- for the last couple of years, I had gained back the momentum to kick a ball that I never had for years. The birth of futsal that requires no dipping my feet in after-rain muddy field and no strict requirements on the right shoes gave me the confidence to play it, “just for fun” – quoting from many professional football players. But that’s not all. Having supportive and in-the-same-shoes kind of new friends in varsity also boost (LOL!) my will to play. For once, I have the chance to play among people of same age that I know and will not judge but to help me play right. It’s not like I aim at going professional, just good enough to have fun kicking or more importantly; to not to be laughed at.
So now it never surprised me to find myself watching football while sipping teh tarik; something I would never even think to have two years back. It’s good to be able to response when the topics at the back of newspaper were brought up. It’s good also to talk and argue (and win!) about offside rule with my dad when Portugal scores a ridiculous seven goals last night. I might make myself pathetic writing this down, but who cares?! It felt good to share.
P/s: I said ‘muddy’ too much, didn’t I? What’s ‘lecah’ eh in English?
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