Inside

Them bastards do it for a high flying lifestyle.

No kidding.

I had a glimpse of a footballer's life some years back when the company I was working for organised an inter-company football competition. I slotted in as a defensive midfielder, instead of my usual position of defender, which should give my current footy teammates something to chuckle about.

I was part of the Subang Jaya warehouse team since my department was located there. The game was played in Klang and the Subang team was the best supported. I was very impressed and very appreciative that a lot of the warehouse staff turned up. A lot of them were foreign labour, many of them from Nepal and India. They chartered two buses and headed over to Klang.

I wore number 8 for the competition. I had a shirt number! Wooooo! I grew up in a house which had the number 8 so there was some significance.

There were 3 group stage games. We lost the first, drew the second and absolutely had to win the last one. The team we were playing against in the third and crucial game only needed to draw to progress. If we won then we would move on at their expense. First half was difficult and still 0-0. The were just trying to shut us out.... and succeeding. I remember that by then I had drifted out to the right wing cos the proper right winger was always missing. Once, I got the ball and was bumped off it and I went sliding face first in a big ass puddle. It had poured the night before and this was a typical Malaysian football field. I got up spitting water, dirt and grass out of my mouth! It was worse in front of the goals. It was a nowt but a mud sea.

Anyway, in the second half I beat the offside rule by running in diagonally onto a long ball from defense. There was one guy chasing me and nothing else in front of me except the goalkeeper. That's when, in the background, I could hear the crowd start up.

As I charged forward I wasn't thinking about the crowd just that I had to score but I have to admit hearing the roar from the spectators spurred me on. I was closing on the edge of the penalty box and I saw the keeper starting off his line. The guy chasing me had to do something and I launched himself into a tackle. By then I think I was just inside the penalty box. Just before he tackled me though, I pulled the trigger and everything went into slow motion.

Everything went quiet. Very quiet.

I saw the ball leave my foot and then I got hit from behind and I fell backwards. As I was going down I saw the goalkeeper's despairing attempt to save the shot and the last thing I saw before I hit the ground was the ball hitting the back of the net.

Everything erupted.

There couldn't have been more than 200 people there and only about 50-60 were from the warehouse but the noise I remember will stay with me forever. It felt so damn good. Being mobbed by my teammates and I really didn't know how to celebrate the goal. We won 2-0 in the end and we finished the competition in 3rd. The semi, I might add was a close thing, 2-1.

I of course got mobbed after the decisive 3rd group stage game. I got back to the stands and was hoisted up on shoulders and people were cheering and jumping. It was a blast although I was really hoping they wouldn't drop me! They didn't of course. On Monday, some of the accounts staff had no voice left from all the screaming. I heard later that when I scored the company director who was in charge of the warehouse jumped to his feet, yelled a bit and cheered. He then topped it off with a big ass grin at his brother who is the Managing Director of the company. The biggest Malaysian owned retail firm in the country, I might add.

It was brilliant.

Some pro footballers do this week in week out for millions in front of tens of thousands of people. I did for one day's pay and an experience I will always cherish.

I'd have done it for free.