I am hungry. It's 32 minutes pass midnight. I can't sleep. I guess I am still over the moon about the fact that the mighty Brazilian just got tossed aside by the lesser Dutch. Ha Ha. Oh wait, I know what is wrong with this picture - I talk about football?! Gee, I don't believe it either. But, before you go around and ask frantically, "Has the world gone mad?!" Let me get this fact, erm, straight; No, I don't go sweat for sports, for any reason, I just got a kick seeing my die-hard Brazilian supporters friends wept. And boy, didn't they really weep?
It must be the work of my sick, devious mind that I did the unthinkable - ditched watching Cerekarama on TV3 for unheard-of 90 minutes football match - just to see the much-beloved South American team got thrashed. I guess I really did relish seeing their fan licking their wounds. I am that baaad.
Anyway, other than enjoying feeding on other people misery, truth be told, I have always had a soft spot for the underdogs. I used to be an underdog myself. Though not exactly on the pitch, but 'perennial non-threatening underachiever' tag seemed to have become a permanent prefix in my younger days. I mean who would have guessed that I had actually won a singing competition when I was 10 or something? (Err, or through the first round or whatever). And no one would believe that.
And how about when I managed to complete 10km Nike run a couple years back? No one thought I could do that. Not even my close friends. They all said I would only deny the more deserving's and old people's right to the ambulance ride. But I said to myself, 'That's OK, let 'em talk whatever they want to talk'. It had only motivated me even more (Though, quietly, I wished all of them be eaten by a lion!). When I finally completed the race, for months and months after that, I NEVER let them forget that I actually did it.
It feels so good to prove others wrong, especially when no one expects it at all. That's why, I have always been rooting for the underdogs. It's akin to supporting to your own self, in a strange, inexplicable way.
Having said that, coming back to this World Cup stuff, secretly, I really want Malaysia to win the cup. Or at least qualify for final. I know it's a long, long shot and a gross act of collected denial on my part, but seriously, what would have been a more, bigger dream for some 'perennial non-threatening underachievers' than seeing our home-grown 'underdog' lifting the glorious cup? Alas, some dreams are never meant to be realized, just like my singing career. Urg!
All these talk about football and unrealized dreams make me hungry. Suddenly I have a insatiable urge for hotdogs. Anyone?
No comments:
Post a Comment