confessions of a troubled mind: i like men with odd shaped balls...

i have to admit: the sight of men with odd shaped balls turns me on. and NO i'm not gay, neither do i get turned on in the sexual way you perverts.

i have never addressed this issue formally, but i think it's about time i do so. i am not exactly sure when my fascination with the sport started. i do have faint memories of playing it with a bunch of friends on rainy days on the ntu soccer pitch. because when it raind it usually meant we can't play football. so we naturally turned towards the natural alternative - barefooted one that is, with an oval shaped ball, where boys can fool around and roll in the mud and go home to a shelling by their respective moms.

and i also have fond memories of watching the 2003 world cup at asif's house. it was the first time for me watching it on tv. all i remember is bodies piling on top of each other and men running at one another in barbaric manners and trying to wrestle each other to their deaths (i thought). it looked infinitely more genuine than anything WWE or TNA has to offer, and they looked a lot more ferocious in their pure black jerseys. and that was also the first time that i heard the term "The All Blacks" and witnessed the Haka. Asif, being a kiwi, was immensely proud of the all blacks of course, and so we inevitably all became all blacks fans, albeit involuntarily. i'm not even sure if i knew of any other teams that existed at the time, probably only the wallabies, or england.

i think it was that moment. the score was 17 - 17 in extra time. everyone looked fatigued and lifeless. the match seemed to be going nowhere. we were all sitting on the couch at asif's house, on a sunny sunday afternoon, when we should be outside playing football. i watched as the ball was being passed out from another "pile" of people, into the hands of this blond guy. i've heard asif tell me this guy is the equivalent of david beckham in rugby. i thought he certainly had the looks. then the moment happened. he took it onto his right foot (i later learnt he was left footed) and executed the perfect drop kick. for a second the time stopped. the ball hit the ground, and set off a gargantuan wave of camera flashes in the stadium, then he took a swing and the ball traveled between the uprights in slow motion.

i wanted to be like johnny wilkinson. i wanted to BE johnny wilkonson. flyhalf, such an exotic word to me. when the first time i played the game in school, the coach told me to play stand-off. i remember feeling a little disappointed, because i wanted to play flyhalf. and only a little later i realised how foolish and unfamiliar i was with the jargons of the game. first five-eighth, stand-off, flyhalf: they are the exact same thing, differentiated only by name depending on your geographical location: my dream came true.

then i saw the videos of the 2nd test match on the lions tour of new zealand. a particular player caught my eye. he was 5 ft. 11, about my height, but weighs a whopping 91 kilos from the on screen stats. even though he was a sub, the moment he came on it became electrifying. he scored 33 points in that match - 2 tries, 5 penalties and 4 conversions - more than anyone has ever done against the lions in one match.

forget wilkinson. his name is dan carter. he eventually became the resident no.10 shirt in the all black jersey. he's the ultimate player, a player's player. i think it's these kind of players that kept my passion burning along with the spirit of the game. i love the brutality, i relish the discipline, i honour the brotherhood and i live for the team. and to think that all these boils down to an odd shaped rubber ball, all for that extra inch, that elusive line, that one shining moment.