A few days ago, my 'good pal'(extra emphasis on the '...') Jega told me there will be a futsal competition today. With all dignity thrown of the window, I decided to take this opportunity to make my 'talents' known to the outside world. With my agile feet, robust physique and suave personality I will be in Old Trafford in no time. Don't even mention about the golden boots. Ferdinand will be mesmerised by my 'Great Wall of China' move. He would, with all his years of proffesional play, be stunned into submission for its simplicity and grace. Imagine him right now, rolling around Highbury's greens with both hands clenched onto his ever shrinking forehead, struggling to gurgle in the last breath of his sane mind: "All those years of scurring from one side of the field to the other! All those months of intensive training and stuidous resolute! All those days spent in the gym flexing those triceps of his! All wasted for I do not know the wisdom of Soon Lee's flabby and inept metabolism!" "What is the 'Great Wall of China'?", you may ask. Also known as the 'Berlin Wall', 'The Great Wall of China" is the trouble-free yet effective way of seeding out those pesky strikers. It involves a fortitude of great virtues such as the compounded lazyness of a Form 6 student, the futile pessimism of STPM and the brick-laden ignorance of exam day and assignment deadlines. Now to reveal the tactic which make Bergkamps stutter, Ronaldos raging: Stand still like the tembok you are, and hope for the best. The first implication on your would-be opponent is bewilderment by your unorthodox style of play followed by a period of denial of what has happened. Finally, the decapitating sense of his own subconcious will invade his alredy dysfunctional concious self. The player will then be heaped with such paranoia that he will charge back and score an own goal. How about it? Okay, to be honest it only works in theory. But, isn't that enough? Alright enough about the author's sly handling. Now, back to the competition. As it turned out the match was to be held at 2.15pm. At around 12 pm, most of our local Real Madrid(Extra emphasis on the 'Real'. irony: this is the pirated version) team has arrived with the exeption of yours truly. As because he hasn't indulged in the vast multitude of cullinary delights out there in Penang, this leading star player was short of energy and so decided to have lunch. Participants include the ever devious left-front striker Yeoh Kee Chai with his harmless looking 'Chicken Walk' hat-tricks and headers. Not to be left behind is Viknesk Kumarr, known in Chelsea as 'Mutu' (pirated version) the overzealous defender with a reputation for his high 'it's-in-your-face' karate chops. Then there is the former school player, Boon-ho. With his surprisingly mobile yet innacurate (with the exeption of those directed at Kee Chai's face) kicks, he jolts managers and coachers alike into a deep stance of regret and loss. Oh yeah, there was Pok-Ban as well. Finally, the clock stikes 2.15pm Greenwich Mean Time+8. Yet because of the state of the economy as well as the deep poverty our team members are in, we decided to forfeit the game(despite the fact that we are world reknown footballers) and receive kudos from our wallets. We continue on vigilantly to pursue other modes of contest. The free-for-all rag tag St Xavier's courtyard would do just fine for our egalitarian method of doing things. Before you knew it, it was three o-clock and most of us decided to return to their respective houses. P.S:By the way, I met Wen Fong today in Parkson's. For those who do not know who Wen Fong is, he is another of my 'good pals' with a striking resemblance to Thierry Henry