the 10 worst players to win the champions league

Repurposed from: bleacher report

There are some truly great players and managers that have never won the biggest prize in football.

"My biggest wish is to win the Champions League in this shirt," Gianluigi Buffon said.

Javier Zanetti, before beating Bayern Munich last year, expressed his desire to reach the sport's pinnacle.

"The Champions League is more important than the Scudetto," he said.

"You are not great until you have won the Champions League," Arsene Wenger said.

In contrast, there are some players who hoard medals at home that their talents barely deserve. Life is full of winners and losers—life isn’t fair either—so it’s to be expected that some lesser lights somehow find their way into the top drawer of European football.

Here, giving hope to Sunday footballers across the land, are the 10 worst players to win a Champions League final. To qualify, a player must have started the match and ended with a winner medal since the Champions League era began with Marseilles' 1993 win against Milan, and be inestimably shit.

10. Dida, Milan, 2003 and 2007
Dida is an extremely shoddy goalkeeper and the only player on this list to have started and won the Champions League final twice.

Dida joined Milan in 1999, and began life behind Christian Abbiati and Sebastiano Rossi in the pecking order. He leaped into the starting lineup in 2000, just in time for AC Milan's trip to Elland Road to face a young, injury-ravaged and out-of-form Leeds United side. Of course, Dida threw the ball into his own net, and Leeds won 1-0.

He’s got quite a reputation. He’s basically the Serie A version of David James.

His first Champions League win actually came courtesy of some quality saves in a penalty shootout against Juventus—three to be exact. His second was the '07 final, where he gained some level of revenge over Liverpool with a 2-1 win which he had very little to do with. However, it’s no coincidence that he soon lost his place first to Zelijko Kalac, then to Christian Abbiati, before turning free agent.

9. Christian Karembeu, Real Madrid, 1998 and 2000
Karembeu has the honour of being the only player to make this list who has won both the Champions League final and the World Cup final as a member of the first XI. However, his second title, in '00, came as an unused substitute.

The lad’s obviously got pedigree, so what on earth is he doing on this list? Just ask fans of Middlesborough. In his one season there, he played abysmally for five months, merely okay for the next four, and then packed his backs and went for a working holiday with Olympiakos.

They really should have bought Karembeu when he was actually somewhat good, instead of a few years afterwards.

Notably, Karembeu is also the only Champions League winner ever to play for Kettering FC. Strange? Yes, very. He also has a famously hot wife.

8. Ivan Campo, Real Madrid, 2000
Ivan Campo is one of two Champions League winners to play for Bolton Wanderers. One was Real Madrid's most inspiring and influential captains of all time, Spain's one-time top goalscorer and possibly the most respected player ever to some out of the country. The other was this idiot.

Sadly, I cannot lay my hands on the footage of Ivan Campo's last stand at Real Madrid. In short, he’d started having panic attacks on the pitch, and suddenly and randomly played opposing strikers in on his own goal.

Real grew tired and shipped him off to Bolton on loan until the end of the season, where he confirmed his insanity by deciding that he liked living in Bolton more than Madrid and opted to stay for six more years. As well as his stupid hair, he’ll always be remembered for this goal:




7. Ludovic Giuly, Barcelona, 2006
Every now and then, a player hits a streak of freak form that is as inexplicable as it is short lived. Leon Osman does it once every couple of seasons. Emile Heskey did it for Liverpool once upon a time.

The same happened to Ludovic Giuly, only he was fortunate enough to be playing in the Champions League knockout phase when it did. He almost single-handedly carved teams apart, scoring himself and laying on goals for Morientes as Monaco tore past Real Madrid and Chelsea en route to the final against Jose Mourinho’s Porto.

Few eyebrows were raised when he was snapped up by Barcelona.

It is surprising, because Ludovic Giuly is, in fact, a painfully average winger. After all, he’s only managed 17 caps and scored three goals for France (against the Faroe Islands, New Zealand and Cyprus). He’s now back at PSG, lost somewhere in the French league, where he belongs.

6. Paul Lambert, Borussia Dortmund, 1997
Here’s your first British Champions League winner. A couple of years before Beckham, Giggs, et al brought home the trophy from the Nou Camp, Paul Lambert had remarkably won the Champions League less than a year after playing for Motherwell. That he marked Zidane off the field in the final is even more remarkable.

Before we get carried away though, we should remember who we’re talking about here—a really, really average, boring-to-watch defensive midfielder with merely average qualities.

He was no more than a cog in a Dortmund machine that was fortunate to reach the final, and capitalised well on a Juventus side that choked on their big day.

Lambert himself spent only one season at Dortmund before returning to play for Celtic, guaranteeing him some silverware with the minimum of effort. He’s won trophies with Celtic, Dortmund, and St. Mirren, played against Brazil at the World Cup, and captained Celtic to the UEFA Cup final. How the f**k did he manage that?

5. Oleguer, Barcelona, 2006
Catalan militant Oleguer Presas was one of just three Spanish players (all Catalan) to start the final against Arsenal. With over 125 appearances for Barca under his belt, what’s he doing on this list? History has a habit of smudging reality, so let's remind ourselves of the actual events of that evening:

Oleguer loses his man, and Sol Campbell heads Arsenal into the lead.
Oleguer is taken off in the 71st minute, to be replaced by Juliano Belletti.
Ten minutes later Barca are 2-1 up and Belletti has scored.

So, had Oleguer not been taken off, it’s probably realistic to say that Barcelona may not have won the match, and he would have escaped this list.

Oleguer is also a raving lunatic, having said that. In the unlikely event of him receiving a Spain call-up, he would reject it as he is Catalan.

An economics graduate, he drives a van to training and is in trouble with the police for his involvement in a riot in 2003. He also has written newspaper articles criticising the Spanish government for their treatment of a convicted ETA terrorist.

4. Jesper Blomgqvist, Manchester United, 1999
Jesper Blomqvist is better than Pele.

Unfortunately, there are only three Champions League winners he isn’t worse than.

Lars (Jesper is a middle name, but way cooler) was a promising youngster with IFK Gothenburg before spending a year each with Milan (where he was rubbish) and Parma, where he was a bit better. For some reason, United snapped him up. £4.4m was a lot of money to pay at the time for Ryan Giggs' backup, and he rarely started a game, picking up an FA Cup medal as an unused substitute.

However, his luck came on the famous trip to the Nou Camp, as suspensions to Paul Scholes and Roy Keane meant that a midfield of Blomqvist, Butt, Beckham and Giggs was the only real option available to Fergie. He didn’t much fancy Jonathan Greening against Stefan Effenberg.

Blomqvist was anonymous for most of the game, and in circumstances eerily similar to those of Oleguer, was replaced by Teddy Sheringham towards the end of the game. Thereafter serious injury restricted him to just 37 games in nine years, and he retired in 2008 after a short spell with Enkoping—whoever they are.

3. Milan Baros, Liverpool, 2005
The whole point of being a striker is to score goals. If you’re playing up front, that is the minimum expectation—from time to time, pop the ball into the back of the net. Has any European-level striker been as bad at that as Milan Baros?

I mean, he didn’t look bad when he was at Banik Ostrava, and the elite took note. Of course, it’s usually Liverpool who sign the duds, and so it proved when they snapped up Baros. A few goals in his first few games had people excited, but he quickly became very frustrating very quickly, and it seemed he was on his way out of Anfield.

In the main, he was extremely good at running forwards whilst looking at his own feet. Then came one of those inexplicable runs of form, just in time for Euro 2004.

Rafa kept him, and as such he got his chance in the '05 Final, Liverpool’s famous comeback. He lasted 85 minutes, and his replacement, Cisse, scored in the shootout. Since his time at Liverpool, he has flattered to deceive at Aston Villa, Lyon and Galatasaray, always falling out of favour and being criticised for not scoring enough.

But he’s had his year, in 04-05, and nothing can take that away from his bumbling boots. A friend of mine summed up Baros by once expressing surprise at something he’d done. He had turned someone inside out or made a staggering goal-line clearance.

“Did I really just see Milan Baros look up?” he asked.

2. Finidi George, Ajax, 1995
If you’re an Ipswich fan, you’re probably already in tears having read his name. I’m sorry. Really, really sorry.

He went from winning the Champions League with a stunning Ajax side filled with talent that would return to the biggest game in European football the very next season -- represented on no less than eight occasions by old boys in subsequent finals -- to being considered one of the worst signings ever made by Ipswich Town. I mean, it’s not like he was just a hanger-on in that Ajax team...

George's arrival, on inflated wages and with ego in tow, rocked the boat which had propelled Ipswich to the UEFA cup and a win against Inter Milan. They were a cohesive, hard working unit which was expertly balanced and reliant on every player pulling their weight. Their reward was that famous night at Portman Road.

George was a square peg in a round hole, and it pretty much capped off a slow slide into obscurity, from Ajax, to Betis, to Mallorca, to Ipswich, back to Mallorca, and into oblivion…

However, has a descent from Champions League winner into obscurity ever been quite as quick and painful as that of…


1. Djimi Traore, Liverpool, 2005
“Don’t blame it on the Hamman, don’t blame it on the Biscan, don’t blame it on the Finnan, blame it on Traore. He just can’t, he just can’t, he just can’t control his feet.”

Djimi Traore, my goodness. Without him on the team, it’s highly likely that Liverpool would have had it all to do once again. Of course you could argue that they would never have been in that situation to begin with, but that’s not too kind on Traore, who can’t help being totally out of his depth.

He didn’t ask to be distantly the worst player on the pitch. He just tried really hard and got his moment. Then again, he did give away the free kick from which Milan took the lead in the first minute.

Of course, Traore has had other moments. The one that springs immediately to mind was this one against Burnley in the FA Cup, which denied fans of Bournemouth a trip to Anfield. Lord knows what he was trying to do, but we really should keep him away from those Zinedine Zidane videos in future.



After his Champions League final appearance, which came about only because Riise was playing in midfield and Josemi was completely shit, his decline was alarming. He moved to Charlton, where he only ever got 11 games, and Portsmouth, where he was even more anonymous, showing up 13 times in 2 years in between loan spells at Rennes and Birmingham. He’s now playing for Monaco, who aren’t very good these days.

But the story of Djimi should be a positive one. The message is that any player, no matter what their ability or heritage, can reach the very top of the game, if only briefly, through no more than hard work and a lucky break. So keep at it, and you could one day follow in the footsteps of Djimi Traore.

reasons why we're not broadcast students

first, we didnt know how to switch on the camera.

then, we didnt know how to white-balance it.

we didnt know the switches to take audio from the external mic.

then, we didnt know how to fix the camera onto the tripod.

after we took our first shot, we realised we didnt do white balance.

when we asked for a mic test for the soundman, the soundman did the test himself.

then, moving from one location to another, we forgot to take our tripod.

then, we didnt know how to usb the memory cards to our mac.

we didnt do shotlist so our clips were in a mess.

even with a soundman, our audio was boomy.

then, we didnt know how to use fcp.

finally, we transferred an audio clip to our video file without exporting it as an audio extension.

damn this 421: Online Journ rubbish. im glad it's ending. what an end to my beautiful CS journey.

i was washing my hair in the shower and the new shampoo smelled like an ex lover. and i started crying as i continued to scrub my hair.

对阿公的思念

"阿公 住得不开心就留下来吧 今晚就在这里睡 阿平会一直坐在这里 看着你 陪你"

every once in a while, we need to cry. it's like knee jerk. and it's like morphine.

my 阿公 loved me the most out of his 15 grandchildren i think because i was a brat. just like him. 固执的你 没学会去爱每个人 但却百分百地疼我. i miss how he and 阿嬷 loved me unconditionally. i miss how anyone loved me unconditionally.

i hope if you and 阿嬷 are still around, you'd be proud of me.

Post- South Africa

to be honest, i kinda liked my speech. i thought it had good rhetoric and impact. until i arrived at the conference and everyone's sounded so professional. but i realised there was nothing i could do about it, so i got up there and delivered it.

it was okay i guess. not very helpful (i think) as input for the conference's final statement, but as a consolation, i think i really shone during the audience dialogue and, later, the Youth Caucus, where the 12 young reporters, ambassadors and athletes shared our YOG experience. i was kinda worried about my abilities to think on my feet, but lucky there's always Alan 'Barbados' Harris there to cover any dead air haha.

really appreciate the people who've come up to me and said i did well and was one of the youths who really stood out. the biggest accolade, no doubt, was from Essar Gabriel, an IOC bigwig who was the director of YOG. he said to me pointblank: "You're a thinker. I can see that."

wow.

among the young ambassadors and athletes i worked with, i met some really interesting people:

Devon. this guy blew me away, period. i dont know how to quantify him but if there's a young reporter in his league, it would be Alan. yes, Alan already being such a monster, has an equal. this local kid would be the Alan of the ambassadors. well Alan has his shortcomings; i couldnt find Devon's. he's extremely charismatic, has the ability to make people like him, and has an analytical mind of many levels. as with most people at YOG, he's from a sports background - he's a hockey coach.

Florian. this good-looking Austrian gave one of the best presentations out of ours. if not the best, then the most confident. he presented off-script and yet was on cue throughout. evident that he prepared and rehearsed hard. and he's extremely funny, not just during the presentation. got a humour as dry as asahi. and he's a handball player.

Felipe. this guy's a Brazilian shooter whose last name is, well, Wu. yes, Chinese. his grandparents (i think) were from somewhere Chinese. didnt talk much to him, but he won a silver at YOG.

Joseph. i remember watching this Kiwi boxer at YOG. he's a giant lah. all muscles. was really quiet in the beginning when rest of us mixed, but became the noisiest guy at the end haha.

Danka. this attractive Slovakian ambassador, i later found out, is one of the top female shooters in the world. she competed in Beijing 2008 and was the favourite for the gold, but loss of form dropped her out of the podium. a quick google also surprised me: apparently Danka stirred some controversy during YOG when she was misquoted as criticising Singapore's facilities. wow i didnt know that.

Samantha. "the girl with the lovely eyes" (they're big and when you look in you're just lost) is a South African equestrienne who won a medal at the YOG (unfortunately she was fourth in another event). even cooler: during the conference, when they gave out the latest copy of a sports magazine, on page 5 was a full-page photo of her in action. even cooler: i was looking for her on fb and instead found a fucking fanpage.

i like motion pictures

Remember, remember the fifth of November,

The gunpowder treason and plot,

I know of no reason

Why the gunpowder treason

Should ever be forgot.

Voilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of Fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a by-gone vexation, stands vivified and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin van-guarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition. The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta, held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous. Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose, so let me simply add that it's my very good honor to meet you and you may call me V.

Evey: Who are you?

V: Who? Who is but the form following the function of what and what I am is a man in a mask.

Evey: Well I can see that.

V: Of course you can. I'm not questioning your powers of observation I'm merely remarking upon the paradox of asking a masked man who he is.

Good evening, London. Allow me first to apologize for this interruption. I do, like many of you, appreciate the comforts of every day routine - the security of the familiar, the tranquility of repetition. I enjoy them as much as any bloke. But in the spirit of commemoration, thereby those important events of the past usually associated with someone's death or the end of some awful bloody struggle, a celebration of a nice holiday, I thought we could mark this November the 5th, a day that is sadly no longer remembered, by taking some time out of our daily lives to sit down and have a little chat. There are of course those who do not want us to speak. I suspect even now, orders are being shouted into telephones, and men with guns will soon be on their way. Why? Because while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning, and for those who will listen, the enunciation of truth. And the truth is, there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn't there? Cruelty and injustice, intolerance and oppression. And where once you had the freedom to object, to think and speak as you saw fit, you now have censors and systems of surveillance coercing your conformity and soliciting your submission. How did this happen? Who's to blame? Well certainly there are those more responsible than others, and they will be held accountable, but again truth be told, if you're looking for the guilty, you need only look into a mirror. I know why you did it. I know you were afraid. Who wouldn't be? War, terror, disease. There were a myriad of problems which conspired to corrupt your reason and rob you of your common sense. Fear got the best of you, and in your panic you turned to the now high chancellor, Adam Sutler. He promised you order, he promised you peace, and all he demanded in return was your silent, obedient consent. Last night I sought to end that silence. Last night I destroyed the Old Bailey, to remind this country of what it has forgotten. More than four hundred years ago a great citizen wished to embed the fifth of November forever in our memory. His hope was to remind the world that fairness, justice, and freedom are more than words, they are perspectives. So if you've seen nothing, if the crimes of this government remain unknown to you then I would suggest you allow the fifth of November to pass unmarked. But if you see what I see, if you feel as I feel, and if you would seek as I seek, then I ask you to stand beside me one year from tonight, outside the gates of Parliament, and together we shall give them a fifth of November that shall never, ever be forgot.

V: A building is a symbol, as is the act of destroying it. Symbols are given power by people. A symbol, in and of itself is powerless, but with enough people behind it, blowing up a building can change the world.

V: People should not be afraid of their governments. Governments should be afraid of their people.

Inspector Finch: Why are you doing this? [referring to Evey's intention to finish off what V started, to blow up Parliament]

Evey: Because he was right.

Inspector Finch: About what?

Evey: That the world needs more than just a building right now. It needs hope. [referencing Guy Fawkes' plot to blow up the Houses of Parliament on 5 Nov, 1605]

50 things

everything seems so true. yet im destined to only chance upon it in my final year of university.

By Ben Jones, originally from www.mitadmissions.org, 2006

As you begin your college experience, I thought I'd leave you with the things that, in retrospect, I think are important as you navigate the next four years. I hope that some of them are helpful.

1. Your friends will change a lot over the next four years. Let them.
2. Call someone you love back home a few times a week, even if just for a few minutes.
3. In college more than ever before, songs will attach themselves to memories. Every month or two, make a mix cd, mp3 folder, whatever - just make sure you keep copies of these songs. Ten years out, they'll be as effective as a journal in taking you back to your favorite moments.
4. Take naps in the middle of the afternoon with reckless abandon.
5. Adjust your schedule around when you are most productive and creative. If you're nocturnal and do your best work late at night, embrace that. It may be the only time in your life when you can.
6. If you write your best papers the night before they are due, don't let people tell you that you "should be more organized" or that you "should plan better." Different things work for different people. Personally, I worked best under pressure - so I always procrastinated... and always kicked ass (which annoyed my friends to no end). ;-) Use the freedom that comes with not having grades first semester to experiment and see what works best for you.
7. At least a few times in your college career, do something fun and irresponsible when you should be studying. The night before my freshman year psych final, my roommate somehow scored front row seats to the Indigo Girls at a venue 2 hours away. I didn't do so well on the final, but I haven't thought about psych since 1993. I've thought about the experience of going to that show (with the guy who is now my son's godfather) at least once a month ever since.
8. Become friends with your favorite professors. Recognize that they can learn from you too - in fact, that's part of the reason they chose to be professors.
9. Carve out an hour every single day to be alone. (Sleeping doesn't count.)
10. Go on dates. Don't feel like every date has to turn into a relationship.
11. Don't date someone your roommate has been in a relationship with.
12. When your friends' parents visit, include them. You'll get free food, etc., and you'll help them to feel like they're cool, hangin' with the hip college kids.
13. In the first month of college, send a hand-written letter to someone who made college possible for you and describe your adventures thus far. It will mean a lot to him/her now, and it will mean a lot to you in ten years when he/she shows it to you.
14. Embrace the differences between you and your classmates. Always be asking yourself, "what can I learn from this person?" More of your education will come from this than from any classroom.
15. All-nighters are entirely overrated.
16. For those of you who have come to college in a long-distance relationship with someone from high school: despite what many will tell you, it can work. The key is to not let your relationship interfere with your college experience. If you don't want to date anyone else, that's totally fine! What's not fine, however, is missing out on a lot of defining experiences because you're on the phone with your boyfriend/girlfriend for three hours every day.
17. Working things out between friends is best done in person, not over email. (IM does not count as "in person.") Often someone's facial expressions will tell you more than his/her words.
18. Take risks.
19. Don't be afraid of (or excited by) the co-ed bathrooms. The thrill is over in about 2 seconds.
20. Wednesday is the middle of the week; therefore on Wednesday night the week is more than half over. You should celebrate accordingly. (It makes Thursday and Friday a lot more fun.)
21. Welcome failure into your lives. It's how we grow. What matters is not that you failed, but that you recovered.
22. Take some classes that have nothing to do with your major(s), purely for the fun of it.
23. It's important to think about the future, but it's more important to be present in the now. You won't get the most out of college if you think of it as a stepping stone.
24. When you're living on a college campus with 400 things going on every second of every day, watching TV is pretty much a waste of your time and a waste of your parents' money. If you're going to watch, watch with friends so at least you can call it a "valuable social experience."
25. Don't be afraid to fall in love. When it happens, don't take it for granted. Celebrate it, but don't let it define your college experience.
26. Much of the time you once had for pleasure reading is going to disappear. Keep a list of the books you would have read had you had the time, so that you can start reading them when you graduate.
27. Things that seem like the end of the world really do become funny with a little time and distance. Knowing this, forget the embarrassment and skip to the good part.
28. Every once in awhile, there will come an especially powerful moment when you can actually feel that an experience has changed who you are. Embrace these, even if they are painful.
29. No matter what your political or religious beliefs, be open-minded. You're going to be challenged over the next four years in ways you can't imagine, across all fronts. You can't learn if you're closed off.
30. If you need to get a job, find something that you actually enjoy. Just because it's work doesn't mean it has to suck.
31. Don't always lead. It's good to follow sometimes.
32. Take a lot of pictures. One of my major regrets in life is that I didn't take more pictures in college. My excuse was the cost of film and processing. Digital cameras are cheap and you have plenty of hard drive space, so you have no excuse.
33. Your health and safety are more important than anything.
34. Ask for help. Often.
35. Half of you will be in the bottom half of your class at any given moment. Way more than half of you will be in the bottom half of your class at some point in the next four years. Get used to it.
36. In ten years very few of you will look as good as you do right now, so secretly revel in how hot you are before it's too late.
37. In the long run, where you go to college doesn't matter as much as what you do with the opportunities you're given there. The MIT name on your resume won't mean much if that's the only thing on your resume. As a student here, you will have access to a variety of unique opportunities that no one else will ever have - don't waste them.
38. On the flip side, don't try to do everything. Balance = well-being.
39. Make perspective a priority. If you're too close to something to have good perspective, rely on your friends to help you.
40. Eat badly sometimes. It's the last time in your life when you can do this without feeling guilty about it.
41. Make a complete ass of yourself at least once, preferably more. It builds character.
42. Wash your sheets more than once a year. Trust me on this one.
43. If you are in a relationship and none of your friends want to hang out with you and your significant other, pay attention. They usually know better than you do.
44. Don't be afraid of the weird pizza topping combinations that your new friend from across the country loves. Some of the truly awful ones actually taste pretty good. Expand your horizons.
45. Explore the campus thoroughly. Don't get caught.
46. Life is too short to stick with a course of study that you're no longer excited about. Switch, even if it complicates things.
47. Tattoos are permanent. Be very certain.
48. Don't make fun of prefrosh. That was you like 2 hours ago.
49. Enjoy every second of the next four years. It is impossible to describe how quickly they pass.
50. This is the only time in your lives when your only real responsibility is to learn. Try to remember how lucky you are every day.

Be yourself. Create. Inspire, and be inspired. Grow. Laugh. Learn. Love.

Welcome to some of the best years of your lives.

check

i never thought i would play another game of darts, let alone write a post about it. but here i am.

derwin took over the captaincy of the hall darts team, and to be honest, three years of darts is quite tiring, so i had planned to just be a mentor of sorts in this revamp (most of the men's team has graduated). i enjoy helping the new members and refining the game for yixuan, sharon and lizhen, and started coming faithfully for trainings.

as fate would have it, we eventually had about four ready male players, so i decided to be the fifth and last in the IH squad. although it was more hands-off for me this year and i would let the others play if possible, it turned out to be my most fulfilling IH darts season over the four years.

we actually started the competition with a 2-0 run, beating halls 11 and 7. yixuan's on really hot form and finally we have guys who can win.

Hall 3

2-1

i was away the morning for a volleyball match, a bit of tennis training, and coached the wkwsci futsal girls. when i came back i was thrown into a match with powerhouse hall 3. but somehow there was a nice calm about it. either im old or i dont really care. i just wanted to see where my level is after all these years.

fact is, not bad at all. despite feeling lethargic in recent trainings, matchday seems to be my buddy. i checked in with my first dart and started running down with an average of 45-60 points.

he then checked in with his first dart and although i looked the stronger to check out, i rued the missed opportunity as he finished. it was level and i worried a little. i didnt want a lead to become a defeat.

but psychologically i was on top. the lad seems inexperienced, fearful and quiet. i was talking and i think he was a tad affected. although i checked in really late this rubber set i kept my cool and finished him off.

although i thought qisheng's board was fiercer as his opponent systematically undid him, apparently our umpire was quite in awe of my board. he kept going "wah" and "woh" and had a shell-shocked face throughout. for good reason, i suppose. except for some forgettable periods, my opponent and i generally served up awesome darts play. my most glorious moment of the match was when i was miles away from my opponent, who was checking out, and i cut it considerably to a 50-point gap from him. all three present knew what it takes, but probably only one believed. and i hit a bull's eye.

Hall 8

1-2

my worst performance this season and one that reminded me of my standard two years ago. the opponent's not good, but beat me comfortably. he almost took all three sets if not for his surprising inability (although it looked intentional) to check out in the last and my sally win.

of course, it didnt help we had a poor umpire who's obviously not familiar with the game and cant count. but my opponent was truly 'the icing on the cake'. im a fan of mental games, my teammates know it, but he really screwed me up. he would exclaim his 'check' in his thick condescending Indo accent, and whenever i missed what i wanted, he would go "No!". what the fuck, seriously.

this match also provided my most ridiculous moment. i was trying for probably 10 rounds to hit a 1-double, but was nowhere close. so i ludicrously went two steps further from the board for my throw, and it amazingly landed right outside my desired spot.

Hall 9

2-1

if that was my worst performance this season, this was my most irrepressible performance all these years.

probably the best or second-best player from 9, the legendary recreation hall. yet i was in control through the match. standards were so high check-outs always happened when both of us were trying to. in all three sets, there was a first-dart check-in (i delivered the first, he the next two).

in one of the best single performances, within nine darts i was on 101. i couldn't exactly believe myself. most times, people haven't even checked in after nine darts. i then checked out smoothly.

like a dampener, i was checking out first in the second set and ready to wrap things up, but he did it before me.

will i throw this great opportunity away? although i was feeling calm knowing i had nothing to lose, disaster struck and i couldn't check in. but, as if some deity came to my help, the poor fella couldn't check out and i watched with sympathy as his darts kept landing outside his desired spots. i caught up soon enough and the moment that really told me i'd win was when i stopped at the exact double he wanted. i felt it surging through my veins. "i will hit it before you and stick it in your face". it didnt happen soon but luck was always on my side.

against a truly outstanding opponent, a match i finally felt i was one of IH's top darts players.

---

before our final round against hall 5, we stood a chance of the quarter finals. if we beat them, we would sneak under their noses for the final spot. unfortunately, our neighbours are really strong in darts this year and whipped us 5-0.

derwin, qisheng, shaoming, zhixiong, yixuan, sharon and lizhen. i am fucking proud of you all.

i would like to think the overall performance is the result of my nurturing over the years. but im not sure. whatever's the case, let's wish many more good years for hall 4 darts.

Goeie oggend, Singapour!!

televised sports is insane here. one of the speakers at the conference (i think was the south african minister) said they screen more fta sports here than many other countries. it's true, i tell you. sports is mega in south africa. in the four days i spent there, i caught Man Utd-Valencia, Chelsea-Everton, Liverpool-Aston Villa, Springboks-Barbarians, a couple of La Liga, Bundesliga, Top 14, Aviva Premiership matches, and even the local Telkom Cup final (Kaizer Chiefs-Orlando Pirates).

angmohs really do 3-hour dinners. no shit. twice i experienced it, and i tell you we strolled through starters, mains, desserts, coffee. with a lot of chatting in-between. dont get me wrong, im not complaining. it's great. they really know how to enjoy life sia.

oh and i love how they'd go "bon appetit" before eating.

one of the most memorable convos i heard:
Alan Harris: Odane Skeen's from Kingston, Jamaica.
Essar Gabriel: Ah... It's crazy down there. That's where they shot Bob Marley.
Alan: Yea.
Essar: No one shoots Bob Marley.
Alan: No one.

and i had the best cream pasta ever in a real italian restaurant there. it was soooo good and so much i couldnt finish it, at just S$14. man, it's serious stuff since it made this blog post.

the night of the gala dinner was wild. we were randomly placed around tables, and me and adam happened to sit with these two local college girls - francesca, a white of italian descent, and fuzzy, an indian who's quite different from the indians in singapore. hours later it was like we'd known each other for really long! joseph parker joined us, so did their friend robin/robyn, and they took us out. fuz drove and we squeezed six into the mini car. no joke considering joseph's a 113kg kiwi boxer. we sped through the pouring rain and beat red lights and at one point joseph was throwing our glass bottles out of the window. crazy shit. the night was spoilt though as the place we wanted to go to was closed. we ended up at a bar.

i wasnt supposed to drink. not when my foot's already swollen. but what's fun without alcohol right. so i committed self-murder by finally relenting and took white wine (straight from the bottle, no joke). then a Springbok, a local shooter. then a John Deere, a local Graveyard-esque cocktail.

oh yea and drinking in public is apparently a crime here in South Africa. cops will pull up and arrest you on the spot. if you don't slip some cash into their pockets.

anyway, the plan was to go to the place the next night, but turned out i was really tired and had stuff to do. i heard the bunch, together with other Young Reporters, Ambassadors and Athletes went to a club, but on hindsight, im glad i gave it a miss. next morning adam told me they got into some misunderstanding. come on, this is South Africa, people carry weapons. they ended up paying more than S$600.

okay that's it for my SA trip. totally no time for checking out the city. didnt braid/dreadlock my hair too.

Goeie oggend, Singapour!

i might be taking too much of SIA. i was sick of the food cos they gave me the same meal i had i think just recently.

Rooibos tea: a traditional South African tea.

they had this and English tea on the flight. i had to choose the latter cos... yes. no wonder i couldn't understand the stewardess.

what's worse on a trip than losing your baggage the first thing you arrive? i had a connecting flight in 90 minutes, but after everyone cleared their baggage i was left with nothing. yes just me. thank god for the extremely lovely airport guy who made many calls and ran everywhere (im limping, you see) to locate my bag.

my first 100rand went to useless ends. i rushed, on a hurting foot, to the transfer. got delayed by so many things as im in unfamiliar territories. so 'helpful' guides are good, right? i was swarmed by a (uniformed) syndicate who directed me to my flight. it's not that difficult really, if i wasnt panicky. so yea when we reached he asked for a fee, and i only had 100rand notes on me. what's worse was i already sensed something wrong and when i ran into the conference's volunteers i tried to get their help (they sensed something too), but the swindler brushed them away.

adam and i made the crazy decision to walk around, and ended up in an apparently blacks-only neighbourhood. they were all staring and it was scary shit. the doctor also advised against streetside food, but the first thing i did here was do just that. wth. too cool lah, cant resist.

we also saw a tranny, and giggled to ourselves. but South Africans dont giggle. when s/he walked by, all the guys started wolf-whistling to the extent it became almost a carnival.

South Africa has one of the highest crime rates in the world. no joke.

everywhere you see young drug peddlers. teens knock angrily on your cabs for money to finance their drug addiction.

there are countless dubious minibuses that want to ferry you somewhere, and they tout blatantly. it seems though that's a preferred transport for the locals. i guess the public transport system here must really suck.

when night falls, you only see street corner gangs and streetwalkers. just stay in the hotel lah.

a bunch of kids (aged 14, 15 max) chased another, who was holding up a wallet like a prized haul. seconds later, knives came out and they started slashing him. whatthefuck.

when one pays peanuts, one gets monkeys

Warning: Possibly Inflammatory Content

"...when one pays peanuts, one gets monkeys. This has been used as justification to increase the ministers’ pay. What they fail to realize is that the same adage applies to all ranks – even the unskilled worker. Pay them peanuts and you get monkeys. (Or are we being classified monkeys already – I wonder?). So, instead of finding ways to help increase the wages of these unskilled Singaporean workers, so that the Singaporean worker can make a serious decision to take up these jobs, they instead choose to allow employers to use peanuts to attract the unskilled workers from abroad.

The ill-treatment cases aside: I think we have too many foreign monkeys in our land already. It is time for this government to make these jobs more attractive, in terms of better wages, so that we do not have to depend on monkeys – especially those from abroad."

gemami, The Online Citizen

Girlfriend: I walked in and the doctor said...

Boyfriend: How old are you?

Girlfriend: ...'how old are you?' EHHH HOW YOU KNOW?!

so sweet. how i miss being in love.

talk to me

empirical proof we're in a (highly) digital age:

there were 10 ppl in the mrt carriage,

5 of them listening to music from players and phones, with at least 3 ipods visible,

1 using netbook,

1 watching mp4,

1 viewing photos,

1 on the phone.

and i noted down all these on my phone. lol.

one day, the human touch would be gone.

signs

i still believe that night i fell ultra sick - yes ultra is the only apt word - with no apparent reason at aloha changi was because it's haunted. but that's for another day.

anyway i experienced the whole nightmare again a few days back. it reminded me how hellish it is and what it means by you'd rather be dead than alive. of course, for a while i thought my room's haunted. i went to bed okay, but got more and more bloated until i could no longer fall asleep. i was basically lying flat there motionless the whole night until, i remember, 656am.

鬼压床 you know?

i developed fever, headache, nausea, diarrhea, and became dizzy when i got up. i threw up everything i had inside me over the next two hours.

best part? i was alone. in every sense of the word.

roomie jianli's at home. hall's near-empty of people from my batch. i don't have a girlfriend anymore. as i trudged to NTU's medical centre later under the blazing sun in cold sweat, pausing for breathers along the way, coupled with momentary blackouts, the big questions came.

are these signs my time in hall is up? at my weakest, there seemed no one i could turn to.

then things went on the up.

i started bumping into people and they were concerned. news also spread. people all over the hall started sending their regards and helping in any way they could. lingqin and jacq especially. they came once with painkillers, then again when i was asleep to soothe me with fever pads. somehow, uncannily, it sure seemed a bigger deal i fall sick now than when i was a freshie, when i had so many friends around.

on another note, i realised i started my hall 4 life in sickness too: anaemia during my own FOC. and i remember the care showered on me by the seniors then. maybe this is the end, and the end is marked by sickness too. more comfortingly i guess, it was marked by the love of ohmers.

anyway it was stomach flu damn it.

Chris Tse's rap-poem, I'm sorry I'm a Christian

grabbed this off terence's Irreligious blog. it was so freaking good i had goosebumps throughout.

thought-provoking repentence and truth, or blatant insult and blasphemy?

you decide. im going for the former.

I am a Christian. I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for the way that I come across

So fair and faith friendly and full of myself

Judging your spiritual health by the words that you say

And the way that you dress, and the things that you do

Or maybe just judging you.

I’m sorry for the way that I live my life

So confident of my own beliefs that

I would never even think to think about thinking about yours

I’m sorry for the wars.

Ivory clad Crusaders mounting steeds and drawing swords

With such a spirit that if The Spirit spoke they wouldn’t hear

But you see the sword of The Spirit was not a sword but the Word

And the Word was with God and the Word was God

And they preached this as they marched on the Holy Land

Singing and praying and killing and slaying

And purging and healing and raping and stealing

It’s ironic that they lined their pockets in the name of God

Just like the priests who line their pockets in the name of God

Just like the people that you can’t stand, because they always raise their hand

And spread their faith and hate and judgment in the name of God

I’m sorry that I take God’s name in vain

Or rather I’m sorry that I stain the name of God

Defending my selfish actions as selfless actions pertaining to the will of God

I’m sorry for being intolerant

For trying to talk down to you

For trying to talk over you

For not letting you talk

I’m sorry for not walking the walk

For being a hypocritical critical Christian

Criticising your pagan lifestyle while my lifestyle styles itself

Just like the televangelist’s hair

All slick and sly and slippery

As the silver syllables slide their way into your ear

But see that’s my greatest fear

That the steps I take won’t match the words I speak

So that when I speak all you hear of me

is a weak hypocritical critical Christian

Doing one thing, but saying another

Loving my friend, but hating my brother

It’s a show.

I’m sorry I get drunk on Saturdays

and go to church on Sundays to pray

for my friends who get drunk on Saturdays

And on that note,

I’m sorry for making the church about the pews and the cross

And the walls and the steeple

Because see the building is not the church

The church is the people

I’m sorry that I hate you because you are gay

I’m sorry I condemn you to hell because you are gay

Instead of loving I jump to hatred

Mouth open and tongue preaching

Eyes open but not seeing that you are the same as me

Just a fucking human being

I’m sorry that I only hang out with Christian friends

And we do nice Christian things

Like pot luck dinners and board game nights

While in the night a man beats his girlfriend again

Another homeless man died again

Is this the way that my own crowd has been?

But here I am with the same friends again

But see what I always forget is that Jesus didn’t come

to hang out with the priests and the lords.

No, He hung out with cripples and beggars and whores

Love.

I’m sorry for history

For native tribes wiped out in the name of the church

Lodges burning, stomachs churning and yearning for justice

And mothers screaming and pleading

Pleading for the young ones

As they are dragged away to church schools

Where they were abused

I’m sorry for the way that I refused

To learn your culture

Instead I just came to spread the Gospel

And the plague

I’m sorry that I stand at the front doors of abortion clinics

Screaming at 15-year-old girls as they enter

Instead of waiting at the back door to hug them as they leave

I’m sorry for taking my wars and my faith to your lands

When historically it was on your lands that my faith was born

And in the face of the storm, I realise that

If God is Love and Love is God

Then why are we shooting instead of sharing?

Why are we launching instead of learning?

Why are we warring instead of walking together?

Why are we taking instead of talking together?

Why are we bombing instead of breaking bread together as brothers?

You see I think that God looks down and He’s sad

And from His right hand throne above

Jesus asks where is the Love?

And if it takes will.i.am and Justin Timberlake

Asking that same question for us

To start asking that same question

Then where the fuck are we headed?

So I will take this stage to be my chapel

And this mic my confession booth

And in the presence of God, the few, the proud,

and the blessed I confess, that

I am a Christian. I’m sorry.