The Pain Of Losing

I guess it has already been established I am not a sport fan – no, really, not unless you can count playing spider solitaire on my PC or thumbing the keypad on my cell phone as organized sports!

Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against supporting or promoting healthy lifestyle, trust me, I am all for it. I am just not sure it’s mentally and emotionally healthy for me anymore.

Case in point; as I watched the train-wreck they called ‘Malaysian team’ playing for Thomas Cup tonight; I keep asking myself, “Why?

Yes, why? Why every time I get pumped up supporting our homegrown heroes in the name of nation’s glory, they let us down faster than we say ‘Malaysia Boleh!’ My head spins from sheer disappointment. And not to mention, losing my precious sweet baritone from yelling and cursing or both. Now I feel more depressed than ever. Good Lord, maybe I should play for the national team instead. Lose a few (!) kilos, get fit and damn, get a better coach.

Oh wait, that probably wouldn’t be my first time. You see, I did try to play badminton before. Seriously. I mean I tried to.

When I was 13 or something, my schools was having this school-level badminton tournament and I remember I foolishly signed up for it. As it turned out, it was a giant mistake for me. Malaysia was fresh off from winning the Thomas Cup back then and so I guess I was a little carried away like everybody else. I thought I got it. I had this stupid, misguided delusion that I can play and actually win this thing – courtesy of my mother!

Needless to day, I lost a humiliating and some-kind-of-world-record, 15-0, 15-0 straight set on the very first match. And adding insult to the injury, the infamous game lasted less than 20 minutes and as if, it wasn't bad enough, it was watched by the entire school! The match itself was an instant 'classic’ (this was before Youtube) and I was crowned the school’s biggest 'doofus’ and had been everyone’s butt of joke ever since - not exactly the ‘fame’ I was seeking, but legendary nonetheless.

For a few years after that, I had been begging my parent to send me away for therapy, rehab and even military school. I even tried to change my identity and convinced my parent to move to another town but to no avail. My mom would simply say, “Don’t get too hung up on yourself, in few days people will forget all about it!”

I know they would, but I don’t. Sometimes I wonder what it is about the sport that pains me the most and I say, ‘Oh yeah, the losing’. And I never quite recover from it.