Phew! I found my poem. Argh! But I forgot to save it so now I have to type it out!!!

Ode to the black jersey'd warriors (ok,ok, corny and lame title)

Echoes of the whistle flow
wielding a double edg'd sword,
seeking to end the flight of the throw,
bringing defeat along one hand's thrust.
Thy heads hang limp o'er the court,
dying it red of sweat and tears.
Cast away was the ball much fought,
a dear friend turned to hated foe.

Jersey doubl'd as dripping cloth,
rais'd to cover the tears of fall.
tradition compels thee doth,
a cheer for the other team.
Ay, sorrow'd tis your cheer,
hath thou warcry been more clear.

Thy sought to bring glory,
to the name upon thy back.
Triumph tis nought solely in the name,
the golden trophy held upon thy head.
Triumph tis nought solely in the fame,
thou burning passion paid.

- Ng Li Hui (Yup, its good to be ego)


OK, give you guys a break. there's actually more but I shall show you mercy!!! This was actually written after we lost the semis to IJ. I actually wrote another poem on my poor sports shoe. Oh, and I was bored when we had a free block so I wrote a funny poem on... you'll never guess...never, I tell you...I wrote...on....on...

THE TOILET!!! (I'll only take that out when the blog is gets desperate to the point that you need a poem on the toilet for entertainment...

im bored

-.-

-huiling

The finals, are over, but our journey on as a team, continues. Perhaps, we have lost. Perhaps, we have not fulfilled our fullest potential. Perhaps, we have let Victory slip past us in the time of 5 mins. Perhaps, we have stumbled and lost our footing. Perhaps, our dreams were dashed in the sounding of the whistle.
Tears, invade the eyes. Unable to restrain. Unable to hold it. Unable to blink away. Unable to keep it inside. Unable, to turn back the wheel of Time.
Silent. All unable to utter. All fighting against the constant welling, that threatens. Heads bent low, in the deep sorrow of lost. Side by side, silent. Trying to fill up the gaping hole, deep inside.
I do not remember the exact words, by it goes along the line of...
"Why are you crying? You can cry only if you feel that you have let your nervousness overcome you on court. Not because you have lost. It has not ended yet. You still have the nationals. I hope this is not your sneak preview of the nationals."
With this, and a rather strong "Raffles!", spoken in cracked voices, we re-enter, to face the light...

Fortes et liber. Strong and free.
Strong in withstanding the challenges ahead, free in letting go of defeats.

Maybe, this incident has its own goods. Similarly to Jem in To Kill A Mockingbird, he faces the traumatic experience whereby Tom Robinson is wrongly accused and is disillusioned by the fact that Justice does not always prevail. But in the end, is able to move on, and gain a more matured perspective without losing his hope and optimism and belief in the basic good of humanity.
Similarly this experience has 'traumatised' me. But prepared me to facing bad results with courage and more optimism. Such that the next day when I got my Higher Chinese paper back, I didn't cry[and was glad that i passed it] compared to when I was a sec one, and cried when I got my Nature of Science... And this was due to the magnitude of the match and the amount of meaning and importance it has to the entire team, that not doing well for a test seemed peanuts.



P.S. I just realised that I wrote 8!! points for Geog when you only needed to write 6. No wonder I had no time... As in I wrote 6 points for against coz I forgot that it was 6 points in TOTAL!!!

Bis intermitur qui suis armis perit
- Syrus







Li Hui

Hello! The blog's breathing its last soon(cannot type the word since its still chinese new year.=)).
Summary
First game: Beatty.
We played rather well, 53-5 (around there. I only remember 48 goal difference)

Second Game: Bendemeer
We played very badly. Mispasses and everything. 36-9.

Third Game: Bishan Park(today)
We played really very well. Biggest goal difference in our 3 games, 53-1. (53 or 56?)

Fourth game: Outram. (this thursday)

Today: Raffles v.s. Bishan Park (obviously its Raffles Girls' I don't think that there's a raffles institution netball team. Imagine...)
1st Quarter: Good start. 15-0. Wan Ting had a good screen and Ivalyn and Polly managed to squeeze out a break(no running of Chelsea) because of that. Didn't really expect Miss Chng to agree, but yeah!!! But its only after tournament.
Second Quarter: 10-1
Well, Zhenjia was a bit abnormal. Shooting got a bit off-target. But, overall, a good game.
Third Quarter: 11-0
I played GS!!! The defenders must be super relieved. Their shooter dropped by a head(but i'm still taller than both of them=)). I hate being sandwiched. But, Polly's the worse off. She got elbowed, pushed, kicked. And, the defender intelligently 'kicked' Polly with her already bandaged up knee, then fall, then start crying, then act like we injured her. Intelligent people do intelligent things.
Fourth Quarter:
Played really well. 16-0
Zhenjia came back!!! Shooting PRO! Great defence and stuff.

That's all. Nothing interesting happened, except Ivalyn's shoes being mistakenly taken by WanTIng. And Wan Ting already went off...

Actually, now that i think of it, its kind of cheesy. But, its written in my favourite style, which can get quite confusing at the start...Actually, its not really that great.

Our footsteps pounded against the ground, the temperature was rising rapidly and they could feel the heat seething through the soles of our shoes, baking our feet. The trees were bent doubled over, wilted. The air smelt of perspiration and the acrid smell of burning smothered my nose. The heat was practically bouncing off surfaces, and our vision became a shaking blur as the air started to quiver with a life of its own. The silver spaceship was hovering above the smoking ground just a short distance away and the number on the neon green screen flashed a terrible, fifty-four.
“Ready to land in five, four, three, two, one.” Brian spoke precisely into his micro-speaker. He retracted the silver screen which absorbed the sun’s ultraviolet rays and protected the giant Plexiglas transparent screen when he broke into Earth’s atmosphere in a plunging drive straight through. As the screen folded itself neatly into halves, his heart stopped beating for a second. The charcoal black ground stretched desolately for miles around, solemn and still as an abandoned graveyard. Not a single architecture was standing, not a single sign of its past lively inhabitation survived. Instead, remnants of the devastation were present in every inch of the earth. Brian choked back an anguished cry, feeling a tight constriction in the pit of his stomach and a hollow feeling tingling in his heart. He took in a deep breath before placing his left hand on the sensor for the metal door to slide open.
Mom and Dad looked at each other, a resigned yet determined expression flashed across their faces. With only fifty-four kilograms of weight more to be held before the spaceship overloads, they both reached a silent consensus. They each grabbed one of my hands and clutched it tightly. Mom lifted her favourite necklace off her neck and placed it around mine. It had their engagement rings on it. The metal doors to the spaceship slid open, and Dad pushed me in.
“Take care, Son. And remember that we will always love you.”
Dust particles floated around aimlessly, and the scorched ground still gave off vibes of heat. The atmosphere was still, lifeless, empty, filled with lost. Brian scrutinized his surroundings, unable to believe that this was the place where he had spent the fifteen blissful and carefree years of his life. He glanced ahead, and saw an image before him seemingly formed by the dust particles dancing in the air, the image of him and his father washing the car, splashing water on each other, laughing, grinning, and shouting. He stared fixedly at the image, forgotten memories hitting him full force in a gushing tidal wave. Only the sound of static filling his ears pulled him back into reality.
“Is everything running smoothly?”
“Yes. I am collecting the samples now.”
He bent down and pushed the bottle-like computerized data storer into the ground and pressed a button to suck the earth into the bottle before sealing it with a swift deft movement of the hand. He strode around, searching for signs of any surviving items. In a corner not far off, he spotted a deep shade of orange midst the black. He picked his way over, and realized that it was a melted and hardened pile of something.
There was a familiar thud, growing increasingly louder, a basketball pounding against the court, and basketball shoes squeaking at each swift change in direction. Loud cheers echoed around him, shouts of encouragements wrapped themselves around his mind, and coach’s incessant shouting filled his ears. Tiny, rough dots brushed themselves against his skin. He shook his head, and collected the sample.
Brian collected his last sample, and reached the final stage of his mission. Extracting a small piece of silver chip from his spacesuit external holder, he dug a small hole in the ground and placed it inside the hole. The chip would keep track of any climatic changes or further explosions and send the information back to planet Burklyn. He hesitated before taking out a necklace and clutched it in his hands in a solemn prayer before dropping it beside the chip. He smoothed the ground lovingly and his vision started to blur as struggling tears pushed their way through.
The doors slid close in a dead thud, as though the church bells that rung for my heart wrenching lost, and the tears I held back began to flow. Tiny trickles flowing slowly in streams became released dams of pouring water. I clutched at the necklace around my neck and could only choke out a soft whisper, “I love you too.” The spaceship lifted up from the ground rapidly, and as it burst through the atmosphere, the tremendous explosion from below, streaked ruthlessly through my heaving sobs.
[ending's lame]

Ha ha. Don't tell you the ending. Its quite lame. The italics are memories. And how they end decides how the next paragraph starts/end. Like the doors slide open(italics) then it ends with the door slide open.
That's all. Got to vet more proposals now....and help a particular friend in need of literature help.


LH

Hey!
Well done everyone with regards to our match against Beatty, 53-5. Though we did not achieve 100% stats for all the shooters, and 50 goal difference, it was a good match!
Shadn't say anymore, got proposal draft 3 to do...

LH