Stadium, cool?

After my long and well-deserved hiatus due to the block tests (which actually is something like, more elegantly phrased, a withdrawal of brobdingnagian proportions from the bowel bank), I went to the National Stadium for THAT match. Yes, THAT match. Singapore vs Australia.

Alright. It wasn't only SG vs AUS. There's the age-old rivalry between Singapore and Malaysia and also some pre- and post-game entertainment by the TKSS Marching Band and the Team Singapore something-something I can't remember (but I do remember that they can fly) and also self-high emceeing by Daniel Ong and Jean Danker.

The ex-nationals match really showed one ugly side of many Singaporeans (at least the ones sitting around me). Hot-blooded cheering during the one minute of silence (they probably didn't even realise why the stadium was so quiet), laughing at players who made an effort to come down and play soccer for THEM on THEIR country's stadium closing day (why, I think they will play better football when they're 60+. Seriously.) Totally unappreciative. Looks like Singaporeans, or maybe just that group of people sitting behind me, are going to be off-schedule when it comes to becoming a gracious people. I personally would blame it on the ridiculous individualism sprouting from today's society, and I hope there'll be hope soon.






First time watching soccer in a stadium!







Then came the Aussies' match. Reached the stadium 10 minutes late (sorry Edmund and Chew!) because we went to 7-eleven to get snacks and drinks, and oh, I found that some of the people sitting behind me had changed! Maybe they'd be nicer people.

Oh gosh.

I was darn wrong. Alright, let me tell you about it.

There was this group of two guys and a girl sitting behind us (sorry I'm not a voyeur I don't take pictures of others without their knowledge so I can't show you a picture, and I don't want to risk a defamation suit so words will have to suffice). The guy we're talking about was wearing a long-sleeve shirt and a pair of jeans when it was sweltering hot in the stadium. He kept complaining that the Singapore players were not up to standard (I wonder why he wasn't down there wearing red-and-white and playing against the green-and-gold army), flourished his astonishingly colourful vocabulary everytime an error was made or a chance was missed (maybe he should have written everything down and passed it to me so I can help Team Singapore sue him for defamation), and was so incredibly annoying that Chew wanted to turn around and slap him. So did I.

Worse, he was obviously trying to use his 'vast' knowledge of the footballing community to impress the girl he was sitting with, and it was a darn serious case of ROFLMAO. Maybe you heard it at home while watching the match on the television?

"Who scored?"

"Venduka! Woah he very zai", he said, pointing at jersey no.9 Viduka.

So we were sitting there under the barrage of Vendukas until Chew nearly wanted to puke his Sour Cream and Onion Pringles out.

Oh the ego of the modern male.

Then something happened which rescued the day (other than 3 goals by the Aussie cannons, ALL on the far end of the field from where we were sitting). Chew pointed to the sky and suddenly there was an explosion. I swear Chew rigged the timing of the fireworks.





Was cool enough for a break from studies!