Why am I so damn clutch?

Wild Thing - Part III

2010-02-26T20:29:00.006+11:00

Previously, on Wild Thing…

Once more, do not expect the Special One to do a recap for you. Yes, it's been months since Part II but, guess what, the freaking posts are still here for you to read. Either way, the reason for this prolonged hiatus was the Writers Guild of America strike, which you must have no doubt heard of. What do you mean it was in 2007 and in America? How is that relevant? I swear, you're being quite unclutch. Either way, cue opening credits. [“Wild Thing” by The Troggs is now playing in your head]

To cut a long story short (I know that the suspense is long gone), what happened next is simply that we won that game.

Cue end credits. [“Wild Thing” by The Troggs is now playing in your head]

Indeed dear readers, Part III also happens to be the season finale of Wild Thing. In addition to this, we regret to announce that Wild Thing will not be returning for another season. However, do not despair - because there will be enough content (provided there is no other unexpected strike) to keep everyone entertained.

And no, that's totally not what you could call an anticlimactic ending.

Wild Thing - Part II

2009-09-10T23:39:00.007+10:00

Previously, on Wild Thing…

What? Did you expect me to do a recap of the previous post? That update was supposed to be a summary, so I’m obviously not going to write a summary of a summary. How stupid do you think I am? It would be everything except clutch… and anything which is not clutch doesn’t belong in this blog. Either way, cue opening credits. [“Wild Thing” by The Troggs is now playing in your head]

Time is running out as my team is trailing to the Chinese dudes by 3 goals to 5. What makes it worse is that each time we score and appear to get back into the game, we lose our composure (this is unforgivable, I know. Totally not clutch) and concede. My brave team mates must feel like Sisyphus rolling his boulder up the mountainside only for it to tumble down the slope every time he successfully reaches the top. At this point, it seems that hope is all but lost. Unless…

Enter the Wild Thing. [“Wild Thing” by The Troggs is still playing in your head]

I have seen enough; the time for inaction is over. It’s Showtime! It’s a corner kick in favour of our team – the perfect time for yours truly to make his eagerly anticipated return. I receive a low five (no, not a hand job, perverts) from my team mate as I cross the touchline and step onto the court to replace him. Despite having only seen glimpses of my genius during the first half, the Chinese dudes seem to recognise the threat I represent, undoubtedly tipped off by my cool, assured demeanour and legendary swagger.

Immediately, chubby Chinese dude is sent to mark me. Far from being put off by this close attention I’m being subjected to, I casually walk past him to position myself closer to the goal. To my marker’s credit, he stubbornly tries to keep up with me – something which, I can assure you, is no enviable task. However, I have no time for games. I mean business… I smile smugly, thinking to myself: “Is that all they got for me?” And then, it all happens within a second. With nimble and quick footwork, I leave my marker stranded and dash into space. At the exact same moment, the corner is driven in hard and low from the left, and I’m already positioned to make contact at the near post. Not the best of angle for a natural left footer like yours truly but somehow I manage to create something out of nothing. I forego the option of using my trusted left foot and instead stick in my less preferred – yet equally lethal – right foot.

Even in the heat of the action, I am lucid enough to realise that I don’t have time to trap the ball. I have to go for the volley. And I do, with great success. Top right corner, the opposite side from where the corner was taken… An unbelievable goal! Out of nowhere, we have pulled one back. My very first touch since coming on is a decisive one. So clutch!

And now it’s game on.

To be continued…

Wild Thing - Part I

2009-09-10T00:29:00.018+10:00

In the inaugural post of my blog, I tried to explain the meaning of clutch using dictionary (and urban dictionary) definitions. There were a few examples of appropriate contexts in which the word clutch could be used. Today, however, I will go one step further by providing a real life experience which encompasses the very essence of ‘clutch-ness’.

Of course, I could write a whole book about my exploits but where would be the fun if I revealed everything in this post. No one likes spoilers, right? Then again, you could argue that me being clutch is hardly a spoiler, considering that it is common knowledge. But enough with the sidetracking; if you haven’t noticed already, I almost invariably go off on tangents while writing (See, that was one just now!) I will try to keep it short, so here is a brief summary of the situation so that you can get context, as readers.

My indoor football team – ranked 2nd on the tournament ladder after Gameweek 3 – was set for a top of the table clash with 1st placed team, whose name I forgot already. That team, other than being highly rated (read: overhyped. Nah, just kidding), had the peculiarity of being comprised entirely of Asian guys, which is why from here on, I will refer to them as ‘the Chinese dudes’ – even if one of them was apparently Japanese.

The first half was relatively incident free, with me operating at only half of my potential (a state referred to as semi-beast mode) although there was some controversy to be had. In the post-match press conference, when asked about the incident in question, yours truly told journalists this:

For those of you who are unfamiliar with Creole, the gist of what was said is that frail Chinese dude went down too easily following one of my attempts to take the ball from him. In fact, he dived. Exactly, this is what they call simulation in football. Of course, being the epitome of sportsmanship I am, I went to offer him a hand up – taking the opportunity to tell him that even I was amazed by my own latent strength (I’m 171 cm tall and weigh 55 kg, by the way).

I would also like to add that, contrary to the popular belief that the two missing words were crossed out due to excessive rudeness, they were in fact omitted because no English translation was available. Unnamed journalist had this to say about the behaviour of frail Chinese guy:

However, as I realised the subtle racist implications behind this incendiary comment, I sensibly declined to add anything more about the incident – although not before declaring that frail Chinese guy should be ashamed for being a cheater on top of being a wuss.

As illustrated by this bumpy start to the game, things did not go according to keikaku [translator’s note: keikaku means plan in Japanese] from the beginning. By half-time we were trailing 0 – 2 and yours truly had been substituted to enable a rookie to get real match experience and some game time. Tactics were discussed during the break and a more aggressive approach was agreed on, the focus being constant hounding and harassing (not sexual, mind you) of the opposite team’s defenders.

The plan seemed to work well enough as we (I use we loosely to refer to my team, even though I wasn’t on the court then) clawed our way back to 2 – 3. Unfortunately, the stars aligned again for the Chinese dudes as they extended their lead further. With approximately 10 minutes left on the clock, we were down 3 – 5, with team morale visibly plummeting. Would this game spell the end of our unbeaten run?

To be continued…

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P.S: Okay, I know how I promised I’d keep this short, but apparently, I can’t keep promises. So this actually turned out longer than I anticipated – and this only supposed to be the summary leading to the thrilling denouement. Well, that will be in a fresh post… coming soon.

You, me and clutch

2009-09-01T21:18:00.015+10:00

Since, hopefully, some of you will stick around in the future, anxiously waiting for regular updates and new entries like crackheads suffering withdrawal symptoms, I guess it’d be a good idea if I gave a brief description of what all this is about. At the core, this is a blog (no shit) like every other blog. It is pretty much a personal space where I write about stuff I want to write. Yes, nothing out of the ordinary – other than the fact that this is my blog which is about me and written by me which automatically makes it quite extraordinary.

Indeed, (as the text and the smug dog on the banner both try to hint at) this is what this online archive is about: the “adventures” of someone who’s awesome and, if I may say so, clutch. That someone is me, of course. It sounds quite simple, doesn’t it? Well, you will not believe the amount of time it took me to:

come up with a decent domain name which neither sounded too stupid, corny or cliché nor was taken by someone else.
come up with the appropriate title and witty tagline.
choose the layout.

Then, even after all this, I still had to write an introductory note of sorts: the first post of “Why am I so damn clutch?”. Two out of two people I’ve talked to have asked me what clutch meant in this context. Here are some definitions which might help:

clutch [kluhch]

– adjective
done or accomplished in a critical situation: a clutch shot that won the basketball game.
dependable in crucial situations: a clutch player.
exactly what you need, exactly when you need it: The other day I was really hungry but thought I had no money on me. Then I found five dollars in my jacket pocket; that was so clutch!
coming through when you are needed most in high pressure situations: In the last few seconds of a close game, only a clutch player can lead the team to victory.

Hopefully, that gives you an idea. In fact, as I am writing this, I am being badgered into quickly posting my first entry by a certain person [who will not be named in order to preserve her wish of anonymity]. Most of you will know that you are the least likely to produce results when under this sort of pressure, and yet… here I am delivering the goods – or post, rather – without any difficulty. Yeah, it’s pretty awesome, I know. That’s why I ask myself that same question all the time.

Why am I so damn clutch?