Sad. They lacked the fighting spirit, the mutual encouragement and support, and the tenacity that a softball player should uniquely possess. Despite this harsh critique on them, I myself and many others have fallen prey to defeatist attitudes as well. I have great hopes for them, so for any of you softballers who may chance about your senior's blog, don't despair for it is not all doom and gloom! I believe you have untapped potential, seeing that you all just don't see yourselves that way.
I then realised how much I miss this sport, still returning to watch a match, under the relentles s sun, occupying a good one eighth of my day. This team game, that was the catalyst of many a lifelong friendships and the development of a strong willed individual that I am.
With this I pen down this poem, in memory of this sport which I can or never will sever with. And to the teammates whom have made softball the elusive sport that it is.
SWING BATTER, BATTER SWING!
From what came strangers formed an unlikely team
of talents not appreciated, demeaned.
No field of our own,
bats, gloves, nets we had to loan.
We have grown.
Terrible we were, a blatant fact
couldn't hold a bat, baffled by the act,
no wonder it led to Mr Yeo's rambling
Yes spilling on and on- numbing.
We have grown.
zhu zhu, zai zai, long long, (yun long, zai hui, shyang long)
yuan yuan, ming ming zuan, (zhen yuan, zuan ming)
shan zhu, tkt, guang sh(it) or GS, (hejun, kim tien, guang shun)
aaron, sikai, joseph. (alvin)
We have grown.
The first match- MATI!
Against Mr Yeo's own Chai Chee,
Cocky bulls they were, brawny
whilst we docile lamb, scrawny.
We have grown.
The honour of a privileged few,
The First of our kind to invade the field,
Thrice a week we strenously train.
Then picking balls from the slimy drain.
We have grown.
Year 2004 marks our foray
into the East Zone, ready to play.
With our minds rehearsed, reflexes sharpened,
Against our adversaries our emotions sullen (may be disputed)
We have grown.
A disappointing defeat by arch nemesis to be -Damai,
Second to none but nepalese Damai.
Only to happen again in Year 2006,
To crush our wishes that irksome Damai. (Becky!)
We have grown.
Yet beyond the triumphs and the doldrums
Nothing can match the exhilaration
of holding a bat and commandeering the play,
especially so, scoring the ecclesiatical home run.
We have grown.
How long has it been, a year or two?
With each of us walking his own way.
Search deep, lurking within us,
lies an earnest desire to rekindle the past.
And we have grown.
Hmm... Soft sport, they brazenly mock,
Unaware of the perils it knocks,
Wait till a softball comes crashing down,
I pray you'll be safe and sound.
They have grown.
And so have we.
P.S. I had a fun time reminiscing all of these fond memories, and really, such words are quite unable to capture the enormity of feelings I have for softball and the 'gang'. I don't ascribe calling ourselves the gang because it's too boorish. Anyway, a picture to remember!
2 comments:
i think the proper names are better.. And alvin?lol
It may be true, but proper names rob the poem of its sincerity, perhaps I could include it as well. Thank you anonymous for your critical feedback :) Alvin is an anomaly, so I can relate to your bemusement, well he keeps crashing softball that it is hard to mutually exclude him.
Post a Comment