Community, my foot!
Posted on August 23rd, 2008 by Lilian • Filed under: Life and rants
Alert – ranty mode.
I met someone and was shocked to see both her hands in bandages and cast. One hand with the flexible cast and the other bandaged half her arm. I feel bad and also angry. Feel bad because it was her fighting spirit to help our team and we didn’t know the injuries were so bad. Angry because it was the rabid, manic and totally bitchy behaviour of everyone.
Initially, she hit her hands on the pole. She couldn’t help it because the other teams were so aggressive and unless she defended with all her might, she would feel bad letting the team down.
So, someone else took over her place. I refused because I hate being blamed for my lousy goal-keeping skill. Moreover, I am 5′ 6″ and the height of the top of the goal mouth for handball is like 5″ only. I don’t want to hit my head when I reverse jump.
However, we need to win one more game badly so, this lady said she could do it. With one arm hurt, she still is the better goalkeeper. So, technically, people can say it is her own fault. Which is NOT!
But damn, this is not some competitive game we are talking about. This is where people are preaching about building community. Community, my foot! The slogan is games unite us. Unite what? How can people be united when the husbands are openly yelling, “HOI, why you all let the lousy players inside?” They want the wives in there because the wives have the advantage of being trained and they are aggressive. Meanwhile, there are many elderly ladies who joined because they were being sporting. So, in the end, they were left on the bench.
Me being the naive one joined too because I thought it is just to make up numbers and they would have a different age group of players. But no, you can be 13 to 103 and you are still in the same competition. I thought the main point is to be sporting about it. That means, the strong ones give way to the weakers ones. The old one shouldn’t thrash the young ones. The young ones mustn’t be too aggressive with the elderly one and things like that.
I played nice. A team needs only 6 players and we have like 11 players in each team. So, it is basic courtesy to go in and go out to let the rest have their run. But no……some will stick in there like their lives depend on it. Some will be shouting at others to ‘do this, do that’. Niamah, not like you can get Datukship with a win. The prize? I think it is not enough for a group meal.
I went in like a few minutes and come out so that the others can go in. People thought I was breathless but I don’t mind being misunderstood. I wouldn’t want some of the weaker, elderly ladies to feel left out after they had volunteered to take part.
Damn malu lah. Whatever Jesus teachings have been thrown out with the ball. Some of my members were even scratched till bleeding. Some told me they have arms wrapped around them when no body contact was allowed. Why does this happened? Because the husbands of the aggressive wives are the referee and line keepers.
Let’s see if the horn or the halo one sitting on my shoulder wins. I wanted to rant this to the ‘authority’ so that they can preach to the players. But knowing where we belong, where only nice words are supposed to be said to each other, I guess I don’t need to waste my breath and being labeled sore loser. Thank God I could bitch to someone – Please build the new building faster and ship all the kiasu ladies there. Tak boleh tahan!
Conclusion – Women are all bitchy. Even Jesus cannot tame them.