Apart from stealing a free view of the World Cup soccer match between England and Ecuador, the weekend had more than its fair share of events. It basically boiled down to one event worth celebrating for, and a second which is rather depressing.
On Saturday afternoon, I joined one of my clients in a soccer match again. It’s an internal inter-department competition and this was a “semi-final” round, with the winner obviously advancing to the finals for the first and second placing. My left ankle was still sore from the match 2 weeks ago, but I felt well enough to play. Being much too old in comparison to these young chaps, I am pretty much confident that I will not last the entire game, which is no big deal since I am a substitute anyway.
Sometime in the middle of the first half, I was asked to take over the leftback position (my preferred side, but I used to play a winger before age caught up and speed fell behind). It wasn’t long before we were under attack and under some pressure. Typical of the way the local style of soccer is played, the opponents fired long balls from midfield and the strikers would chase after the ball. It did not helped that we were playing for offside much too far up (up to the midfield line).
There comes a time when a man has to reach deep into his pockets and pull out all the resources he has at his disposal, and that time arrived for me. The opponent midfield pumped the ball high up into our half, in a counterattack, and we were caught way out. The opponent striker gave chase for the ball, with me slightly behind him. He sprinted off in the direction of our goal, while I gave chase, but found myself lagging behind with every stride. No matter how hard I pushed my old legs, I just could not gain any ground on my opponent, and I almost tripped over myself in my eagerness. The opponent striker rounded our keeper and scored. Striker 1, Old Man 0.
I could only watch in despair, but in all fairness, the centrebacks were equally caught out. There also comes a time when a man knows when to pull the plug on a bad deal. We were caught out a second time, although this was due to one of the centrebacks heading the ball backwards by accident, but were lucky to escape when the goalkeeper managed to turn the ball behind. I got myself out during the halftime break, and the score at this point stood at 2-2, our team coming back twice from a goal behind.
At the end of the match, we emerged 4-2 winners, bound for the finals the following week. My contribution in the second half was a final minute block on a shot, after the game was all settled. The team was of course euphoric, bursting with confidence after the game. I was, however, wary of the huge gaps in defence, which will need to be filled should we win the finals.
On Saturday evening, however, I was in less of a celebratory mood when my mother-in-law informed my wife that one of her Aunts had been diagnosed with stage 3 cancer. She had been complaining of stomachaches and was recently admitted to the Tan Tock Seng Hospital. Apparently the tumour had burst and she was in critical condition, in the ICU ward. On Sunday morning, we were informed of her passing, while we were on the way to the hospital. It was the first time I had stepped into the ICU department, and I must say it is a depressing place. It was the first time that I paid my respects to someone who has just passed away on the hospital bed. Even though I hardly knew this member of my extended family, it was a sombre experience nonetheless.
Life has a way to remind us of our vulnerabilities and just like a soccer game, as they say, the ball is round and anything can happen.
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