Dear Diary,
I played a football match and two futsal sessions today. Can you spare a page for this?
*
13th March 2010
1605 hours - Brother called, and asked me to take his boots to the field. He asked his friend to come pick me up. It's my debut today, and I've been looking forward to this game for a week, and all I wish was good weather and some positive distractions to the blister I had on my right heel.
1610 hours - Brother called again and told me his friend could not pick me up. He decided to pick me up himself. I could not say no to free ride, especially after a quick peek inside my ragged Timberland wallet. I had no idea where my money went, but I hope they'd come back to say hello sometime.
1615 hours - I thought it was going to rain. I slipped a plastic bag and a huge plastic cover plus an umbrella into my huge bag, just in case, you know to protect the ragged wallet. I've had enough with no money inside to afford having it ruined by h-two-o. He he it was actually for the new phone, the Ferrari of mobile phones, go figure.
1616 hours - I misplaced the key to the backyard to take the shorts I hanged out to dry in the morning. It's just one of my bad habits, taking my football stuff while it is still there, un'processed' (you know the usual pick them up after they properly dry and fold them according to whose). I had a glass of warm water to cool myself down. I did not need to panic.
1620 hours - Brother called and alerted me to be quick for he was about to arrive.
1621 hours - I think I need to be panic.
1625 hours - I improvised the knowledge of the house geography and entered the backyard from the front door. I took the shorts, smelt it and realized I needed socks as well. No sweat, they were there, just few railings from the shorts. I grabbed them, and smelt them as well. All good and I rushed back and put my boots, my brother's and everything else into the bag and did some recheck before I zipped it up.
1630 hours - Brother arrived and I managed to pull the I-am-not-rushing look. Off we went to Seksyen 2, Wangsa Maju for the game. The traffic was still fine. So was the weather. Other than the key to the backyard, this could be smashing for my debut.
1635 hours - I was reading some news in the car, and found out Peter Storrie stepped down as Portsmouth's Chief Executive - which he should have done a week ago. But he possibly delayed it to save good people from exiting because of Pompey's financially inept board. Also, Sam Allardyce reiterated the fume between himself and Rafa Benitez by saying 'Hey Rafa, I don't like you'. I can't blame Big Sam. Rafa's a good manager, but sometimes he put himself ahead before others. It's always everyone else's fault but his. And I failed to recognize any particular reason why Lucas had been featured as first eleven every time. Maybe I am wrong, because as I said before, Rafa sees what we don't.
1650 hours - Arrived at the field and noticed there was no covered area. The weather was superb but take my word, never underestimate the weather, because in the wise words of John Lennon, life is what happens to you when you are busy making other plans ha ha. So, don't get too busy playing football. Look out for the weather too.
1700 hours - If the size was fitting, I'd have the number 17. Number 17 was an L and since I am not yet a Randy Orton, I settled for some other number with smaller jersey size. It was all white, from the jersey to shorts to socks, and for me to the boots. People called the team Real Madrid. But I call it Real Madras.
1730 hours - KO. It stands for kick-off, not knock-out like they explained in dictionaries.
1905 hours - FT. Yes, Fernando Torres. He came to the field to say hi and sign some autographs. I took picture with him and said mucho gusto encantando. No lah, FT is full time. The game was no more. Referee suruh balik rumah. We won the game by a slim margin, but looking at how we fared, it should have been more to our side. The game was no match to any English football you watch on telly, but for amateurs like us, it was like playing in a cup final. Okay, maybe semi-final. Final score, 3-2.
1920 hours - The team is a small enterprise who is run by players who share common love and passion in football. We had no kit manager to organize the jersey, so the juniors were always helpful to sort them out. We took some time and fathomed the win before decided to go somewhere for drinks. The usual post-game banter and laugh just had to be cherished and we were lucky that there was a restaurant at a walking distance.
2010 hours - I was drinking my second iced tea when a friend from Gombak texted me about a futsal friendly match in Segambut at 9. I bid the team goodbye and rushed home to clean myself up and get ready for Segambut futsal, which was more Kelamkabut futsal.
2030 hours - Back home and while in the shower, I remembered a text message from Nizam, my friend from Wangsa Maju about a futsal session at Ampang at 10.
2040 hours - Of course I didn't get out of the shower and panicked.
2050 hours - Okay now it's time to panic, now that I am done.
2100 hours - I used the same huge bag to put football stuff out and futsal stuff in. I had to catch up with the guys at Jalan Gombak for the convoy at 2045 hours. But it is now 2100 hours and I had to be more than The Stig to make it.
2105 hours - MRR2 and Jalan Gombak were such sweethearts and I managed to catch the convoy. Aziz Hazmi was leading the pack. Getting to Segambut via Jalan Sentul could be a bit tricky but he got ourselves through with the greatest of grace.
2110 hours - We made it almost in time, to find that the opposition team were not there. We chatted and kicked the ball around for 20 minutes before they arrived. I was more excited to see Hazree's sizzling new Adidas Super Sala to notice that I have lost 20 minutes and I only have 30 minutes to play because I need to be in Ampang at 2200 hours, or 2215 hours (15 minutes injury time Sports Planet graciously awards to its client, which might come in handy for me this time).
2200 hours - The opposition team turned out to be a tough nut to crack. Maybe because they brought some WAGs to distract most of us. We were 2-4 behind when I left, and I left after I scored the second with a sweet chip up and under the good looking goalkeeper he he. Score and leave, priceless.
2205 hours - Jalan Ampang disappointed me, and I had to volume up the radio to conciliate the driver's agony. It was live radio broadcast of the Chelsea-West Ham United London derby and pundits were analyzing leading up to the game. Pundits can be so annoying, especially when their premises were not backed by facts and numbers, and mostly splurged out of personal whims. I'd turn to fan pages to see people saying good things about things they like just because they like it. Like Lisa Surihani's Facebook fan page, for example. With heavy traffic, especially near the embassies, even the thought of Lisa Surihani didn't help me go through the nerve.
2225 hours - Nizam tried to call but I missed it because I was driving (he he hello Abang Polis), and because I had arrived and was parking my car. The car was a terrible looking little machine. I had no idea where the smell came from and it's a wreck from outside; with leaves I had no idea where they came from and few strands of cat's hair, maybe of my cat which finds comfort in warm pre-heated hood. I sneaked a look and promised myself to wash the car tomorrow and make it look sexy again.
2230 hours - It turned out that Nizam waited to use my discount card, so I didn't miss a minute. Still sweating from the rush hour, I said hello the guys, put on my futsal shoe, said hello again to those I haven't, and walked calmly into the court.
2345 hours - My mind was as tired as the body and I haven't had my proper dinner yet. I had few hot dogs before Segambut and washed them down with mineral water. So I thought I better reward myself with something worthwhile. I called Aliff Adha to ask him out for drink as I wanted to have my dinner, but he was too tired to go out, or maybe still weeping from Milan's exit from the Champions League. I had the feeling few months ago.
2355 hours - Scott Parker scored an amazing volley to level the score at the Bridge when I arrived at NZ Curry House, Wangsa Maju. My favourite spot was taken, so I had the table next to it all for myself. Not to waste any space, I had three glasses of teh o ais (iced tea), two plates of nasi goreng daging merah (fried rice with beef cubes and chili), a plate of tauhu bakar (grilled tofu with peanut sauce) and a plate of roti telur (prata bread with egg).
0050 hours - Chelsea grabbed all three points at the Bridge, not to my surprise. Bolton hammered Wigan four-nil. Yes Wigan, the team that beat Liverpool last week. I was full but the car wasn't. I fueled her up before going back. I was practically limping from places to places; from the table to the cashier counter, from the car to the cashier counter, and back to the car again. But life has to go on.
0130 hours - I cleaned myself up for the second time of the night and started my night reading before decided to blog my day.
0245 hours - I think Arsenal are playing now but I am too tired to do anything.
0300 hours - I tried to sleep as I hit the 'publish post' button. I thought I have clicked it, but turned out I haven't. I was on the same page for 15 minutes. I think I have to stop now.
*
Dear Diary,
Why are you not stopping me? Is it because I used more than a page?
Sorry.
