Rounding off 2014

2014 has been a pioneering sort of year. Now that I think about it, each year should be and indeed has been a year of firsts. For there's always something new we have done that we have not done before.

I took up running earnestly for the first time. And wearable tech apps like Runkeeper and Strava help me want to keep up a good record. So far I've managed to run on 4 continents: Africa, (North) America, Asia and Europe, or more precisely in Victoria Falls, Washington DC, Halong/KL/Singapore and Barcelona respectively. I've also climbed up Wayna Picchu but my Velocitech altimeter-endowed watch never worked :-(

 I should not give anyone the wrong impression that I've become an uber athlete all of sudden, like some mid life crisis armchair sportsmen turned marathoners. No, I do this partly for health (I still rue my broken hand; though screwed back on, it's not quite the same) and partly for vanity for I don't want to exceed the 80kg limit in weight.

J fulfilled one of life's dreams, something I had aspired towards but didn't accomplish: he was recognised as one of the nation's top Scouts and conferred the President Scout Award by the President no less! This coming off a year of achievements including the Gold Medal in the 11th Geography Olympiad in Krakow and a character building hike with budding leaders from his college.

M had a momentous year too, being selected into leadership position in her school's peer support board, and asked to participate in the Geography Academy. For some reason, both kids are preternaturally inclined towards this subject. No wonder we enjoy traveling so much! She has also been active in sports and has a fine bunch of friends: her softball teammates and her chatty classmates. Yet, despite all their antics, M (and her friends) are serious girls and going into upper secondary next year, she has voluntarily decided to give up some of the more trivial social media apps like snapchat ans askfm voluntarily. Now, that is a first! And an act that is sure to bring a smile to every 21st century parent.

The real first is the project D undertook. To be precise, the project started in 2012 but it's in 2014 that most of the progress took place and it fell on her shoulders to take care of every detail in the building, from tile selection to window placement to ceiling design and appliance procurement. It also necessitated monthly, then bimonthly drives to Malacca. She figured out the timings to beat the traffic, but sometimes we get caught including coming a few days ago where we spent over 2 hours between the JB and Woodlands checkpoints.

At work, I've found equilibrium: when we're loving what we do and doing what we love. This state is important for peace of mind and it's been said that it's hard to achieve peace in the world when one doesn't have inner peace to start with.

My peace is not just with work but with the most high: Gloria in Excelsis Deo. He's blessed us with much and with these we have a responsibility to give back and to pay it forward. In a very insular way, we've repaid our parents by bringing all 4 of them to a place they've never been to and on a trip they have never experienced including camping in Zimbabwe! We are all looking forward to 2015 with great faith, hope and love!

A special day

I don't usually do this... The hopeless romantic stuff, that is. Not in keeping with strong manly type.

But it's been 25 years since I've saw her standing there (as Lennon would say). And 21 years since we got engaged, so the relationship is formally reached maturity. 20 years since the wedding, and quite a milestone in this day and age.

So, given this is a special year, I decided I'd make this overtly extravagant gesture (in addition to the more 'expected' gift of a cute classic in Malaysia, and a precious pebble in Peru), of a bouquet of our favourite flowers.

Happy birthday, dear. 

LYMYNY 

Run for hope

.Today, we did something specially meaningful. I had picked up running earlier this year and with the ability to record each run with the help of a GOS-enabled smartphone app, this has become an activity worth sustaining as one aims to run more, in new places, faster pace and longer distances.

Today, spurred on by M who first signed up for this Charity Run with her softball mates, D and I joined her too, D in the 3.5km run and me for the 10-km. I think the last time I ran 10k was half my lifetime ago (at a company sports day), and we ran the length and back of the runway. This time, the 10k was around the beautiful Marina Bay. It's a new route, and ranks up there with my run from the Willard to Lincoln Memorial in Washington, along Halong Bay from Novotel to The Bridge, and between hotels W and Arts in Barcelona. 

The scenic route helped, for I felt 'the wall' around km7, but what really spurred me on was the reason for the run: we all ran for hope, for cancer patients and specifically for our friends A and S who are undergoing treatment presently. May they be cured and may a cure be found.

A Trio of Haikus

There is no give and take

Always done well and fulsome

Week in, week out, can-do!

Decisions to make

Opinions shared and thrown

Yet, so much still to do

Nearly two decades

Working away from home

What does it amount to?

Photo from fancy.com

Running

INo, not running away

More like that ABBA song, that when all is said and done, even when I am at the crossroads, there is no more need to run.

Instead, I now run for the joy of it. I wish I had liked it way back when living in Zurich with the woods behind our apartment in Wangen. Nonetheless, it's not too late and today I had one of the best runs of my life. It's slightly over 2 kms from the hotel to the Lincoln Memorial here in Washington DC. 

I have been in Washington DC two, three times before but never got here. So, it's a real pleasure to meet this giant statue, befitting the legend of the man. The memorial fittingly resemble a Greek temple. Lincoln freed a people and then united the country.

So it made a lot of sense that 2 Asians and 6 Caucasians of 4 nationalities ran together. Setting off at 6;30am with a bunch of colleagues (2 women, who led the way, and 6 men) we took just a little over 10 minutes to the memorial and another 10 minutes back. In fact, I set a record of doing 6mins/km this run.

More running to come, of the joyous kind! :-)

World traveller

I think there are a number of airlines; British Airways come to mind foremost, that describes their customers in this vein. Increasingly, I am feeling this label describes me more than ever. At most first time introductions to business acquaintances, the conversation naturally drifts to how much I travel.

Here's a typical year of air travel

- once a year to the US (worst of all, east coast cities mostly: New York, Boston, Washington)

- twice a year to Europe (this being a favored global meeting location)

- quarterly to an major Asian capital (Mumbai, Delhi, Beijing, Shanghai, Hong Kong, Sydney, Tokyo, etc)

- monthly to Indonesia, Thailand and Vietnam each

- weekly to Malaysia

That's nearly 200 flights.

Growing up, I wanted to fly around the world. Heck, my first job was even in the aviation industry to get closer to this dream. Even then, I did not dare dream of taking a flight every other day!!!

I am presently on another trip to the US, Washington DC to be precise via London. It's a relatively long layover of more than 3 hours. The Virgin lounge, cooly dubbed The Clubhouse however makes up for this. It's funky and sassy. I even planned for and got a nice haircut here, and my bushy hair is now looking stylishly 'Oxford Street' chic.

The flight back is even longer, but after all that traveling one sure hopes I have figured out how to make this painless.

Goodbye, "time to to plant flowers"

I peek outside our overflowing apartment and eyeball the delivery men bearing a truckload of cling-wrapped, mid-century modern chairs, dressers and lamps. "I can't believe you bought so much, where are we going to put all of it?!" My husband brushes aside my shrieking like he would a fly, and throws the door open to his latest acquisitions. Welcome to life with a collector. The scene repeats itself with dazzling frequency - if the delivery men are not bearing design-conscious furniture, then it is contemporary paintings. Sometimes it is my husband himself outside the door, heaving a box of newly purchased vintage vinyl records. Every wall and nearly every sq m ... is packed with testaments to my husband's love of good design and art.  He is also an audiophile - think gizmos from a second-hand Rega turntable to huge honking Vandersteen speakers - and his books, CDs and LPs number several thousand, nestled on shelves and racks or stacked in vertical piles that rise dangerously towards the ceiling. The house also contains miscellany such as back copies of one-time style bible Wallpaper, including its first issue in 1996, and two antique typewriters that previously belonged to my father-in-law. Did I mention that we also have two young kids? ... So far, the only accident has been one broken faux Louis Poulsen table lamp - the originals are placed well out of reach of mischievous little hands. On the upside, my daughter must be the only four-year-old to know the word "typewriter". For my husband, collecting is not about deep pockets ... but seeing the value in what others might miss. His heroes are not the Charles Saatchis of this world, but Herbert and Dorothy Vogel, the postal clerk and librarian who amassed a staggering 5,000 pieces of modern art in a one-bedroom New York apartment, then donated all of it to museums and galleries in the United States. Sure, I take pride in my husband and his various collections, assembled through many hours of research and bonding with equally passionate dealers. The mid-century furniture, for example, tells the story of the streamlined aesthetic, new materials and themes ranging from molecular chemistry to science fiction that gripped post World War II utopian imaginations. But I also have this nagging worry that we are living in one of those scary hoarder homes. The above is an extract from Clarissa Oon's article in The Straits Times. I reproduced it here because it might as well have been written by D, who has often accused me of being a hoarder. I can't help it. I fall passionately into things and when I like one, I like more and I want to collect them all. Be it music, books, cars (big ones and miniature models), art (painted, sculpted, printed), cameras, watches, hifi equipment.  At the same time this article appeared, I did something remarkable. I sold my first piece of art (admittedly in exchange for a bigger better piece). Anna Berezovskaya, whose work addresses many of life's most important questions and quandaries in an exuberant and probing manner (according to Ian Findlay Brown the founder of Asian Art News) first caught my eye 2 years ago, courtesy of Chris Churcher of Red Sea Gallery. Her works speak to me in a way no other art has done. It is layered in a complex manner yet her message is often a simple one. Like freedom, like love, like dreaming.  As the first significant part of my collection I have decided to part ways with, I thought I'd pay it homage by honoring it with its own image in this blog. Goodbye, "time to plant flowers" It's also proof that I am a collector, not a hoarder :-)

A light hearted post

The media continue to publicize heartbreaking images of Brazilian fans after their gobsmacking loss. Quietly and in as understated a manner as you can imagine (and I mean it literally), their bitter rivals Argentina sneaked past Netherlands courtesy of a penalty shootout to book a place in the final against the rampant Germans.

It so happens that for the first time in history the Catholic Church has two living popes. And fittingly, here on the most populous catholic country in the world, in the city with the most iconic Christ statue, the final is played out between the two nations where these two living popes hail from. 

Photo from blogs.cnn.com

I have no doubt though that they are praying for far more profound and permanent improvements to the state of mankind

"Wahnsinn! Unglaublich! Unfassbar!", or "Madness! Unbelievable! Unbelievable!"

... Is how one German media headlined the news of their national team beating the host. You can only imagine the heartbreak of the other side. I thought Brazil would show courage and strength in adversity. Next time, maybe. As aptly quoted by Malcolm X:

There is no better than adversity. Every defeat, every heartbreak, every loss, contains its own seed, its own lesson on how to improve your performance the next time.

I had hoped, sentimentally, for Brazil to best Germany, and make it to the finals of the World Cup at home. Even better if they can meet their bitter rival and neighbour Argnetina. It would be a fitting finale to a great tournament which had been dogged by construction delays and public protests before it started, and then went on to break nearly every meaningful record, including 3 this morning: more goals scored in the finals since 2002, a new individual record holder in Klose scoring more World Cup final goals, and the scoreline itself, 7-1, is unprecedented in a semifinal, not to mention a semifinal involving Brazil who has won the cup more times than any other nation. 

Maybe Neymar was indeed more talismanic than everyone thought. Surely, Thiago's leadership on the pitch more missed than they can imagine. In the end, while many are saying this is not that as good a team of players (bar two: the injured and the suspended), I think they were undone by mental rather than physical weakness. The players were taken aback by the easy first goal in the 11th minute, but when the second went in 10 minutes later, they reeled from it and in 6 minutes thereafter let in 3 more goals as players seem to not know what to do. To Germany's credit, they never let up and kept at it, looking for the 3rd, the 4th and eventually, the 7th!

I do feel for the Brazilian fans, especially this boy who must now be the emblem of how brutal this defeat is.

But this pain shall pass. In the meantime more significant events are taking place in the world. Indonesia is electing it's next President. India just did. Thailand's military have firmly taken control of the country for the umpteenth time. Malaysia's transformation program has yet to take effect. Singaporeans are no longer politically apathetic and are asking for support (which incidentally if unmitigated could erode Singapore's competitiveness). 

This once in 4 year sporting extravaganza takes the mind of the nation of these events for awhile but at the end of the day, it's about living well AND happily. The latter is of course much improved (albeit momentarily) when your team wins :)

Strength in the face of adversity

We are all now familiar with this picture. Marcelo screaming for help from the physios after being told by Neymar he can't feel his legs, having just been kneed in the back by a Colombian midfielder.

Photo from Telegraph.co.uk

Both their faces say it all. And as Rohit Brijnath put it: 

"Neymar da Silva Santos Junior is not to be confused with a footballer when in fact he is a Brazilian talisman. He is a man turned into a national charm. He is the equivalent of Lionel Messi and a version of Kiwi rugby star Richie McCaw. To appreciate what they mean is to consider a clever headline from India when their greatest cricketer was about to be turned into a comic book: "We don't need Superman - we have Tendulkar!"

The football talisman is more than a goal-scorer. In his presence lies reassurance, in his every move lies faith. He is saviour and magician. To play against him is apparently unnerving, to play alongside him is akin to wearing a protective amulet. Only the great are stalked by myths. Now, the talisman has fallen, and for Brazil it feels as if confidence has collapsed. If they rise from this to win the Cup it will be an escape so astonishing that even Harry Houdini might applaud...

At the 1980 Winter Olympics, with his unfancied US ice-hockey team about to confront the dominant Soviets, coach Herb Brooks countered stress with inspiration and told them: "You were born to be a player. You were meant to be here. This moment is yours."

This is what coaches do. Take adversity and spin it into a cause. Take misfortune and paint on a silver lining. Take Brazil's favourite tag and twist it slyly into underdog status. Take a nation's renewed passion and surf on it.... Perhaps Scolari will flirt with that theme and get Neymar to address the team - even via video link - before their semi-final. Lost skill, after all, can sometimes be compensated for by emotion: You play for yourself, team, nation and also Neymar.

One man's absence is also another man's chance. Widely summoned is the memory of the 1962 Cup, when Pele tore a thigh muscle and Amarildo took his place, scoring a goal in the final while setting up another. Yet that was a team of Garrincha and Vava, this of Fred and Jo. Still Scolari must stroke egos - you are great, you are the one - and out of Neymar's shadow someone must step up to become his nation's timely son.

As Brazil walk into the unknown, this is football at its most fascinating. And yet most tragic. The exceptional athlete can live with defeat; it is not being able to at least chase victory which is unbearable for Neymar. And also us."

Thus far, I have not bothered to wake up for the 4am matches; instead, for the weekend matches, I studiously avoid all forms of media when I wake up and head straight to the TV for the repeat telecast, which is as good as 'live' for me. But I think I will do so next morning. Even J is going to catch it with his friends, on a school night! We are grandly permitting it. He's 17 after all and at this age I was already living on my own here with a bunch of ASEAN scholars at a 4-room HDB flat in Jurong. In fact, we were watching the movie Grease (for the umpteenth time for me) when J lamented that his experience of school and now junior college is nothing like the rocking good times in Rydell High. 

Actually he's been so busy in school, especially in secondary school, he's not kept up with watching professional football. The last time we watched the same match, in separate locations, was when our team, Manchester United won the Champions League for the third time back in 2008 (in Moscow, beating Roman Abrahamovic's Chelsea on penalties). Maybe there will be such dramatics tonight. That Germany is their opponent truly makes this a worthy contest for the Germans are always consistent big game tournament performers. As D said earlier tonight, "the head is with Germany but the heart is with Brazil". I am wearing the Brazil jersey we bought in Rio when we were there and and hoping they show fortitude under adversity. 

Krul wins it for the Dutch, so Cruel for the Costa Ricans

It's the most brutal way to settle a match, but when a match must be won, it's been the only way.

Both teams had thought about this moment, when 120 minutes cannot separate the sides, they would have to resort to a penalty shootout. When the final whistle was blown after extra time in Salvador (a venue that has seen most the best matches of the tournament so far), the Costa Rican coach punched his dust into the air knowing his team has done well to earn this. The Dutch too was prepared. Louis van Gaal, a master tactician, brought on a substitute goalkeeper, one whom he fancies is better at saving penalties. I can well imagine it must have been devastating for the #1 goalie (who played well and could become the hero) but it's about the team winning and they stood a better chance with Krul in goal. And he did it, saving two penalties, including one from the inspirational Costa Rican captain, Bryan Ruiz. 

Photo from NYtimes

To me, the Dutch victory underlines the importance of teaming, especially sacrificing for the team. More significantly, it speaks to the courage of a coach who is willing to make these tough decisions. Of putting a better/younger/stronger/older/bigger/faster (chose one) on the field when the job demanded it. Of the tactics employed today, Van Gaal with his HR management for the team won.

Speaking of coaches there was this compilation of their salaries:

In all, 19 coaches earn at least $1 million per year. Out of the top 10 coaches, only 5 of their teams have qualified for the knockout stages. 

Miguel Herrera, arguably the most passionate coach at the World Cup, earns a paltry $209K per year according to the Daily Mail. In other words, Capello earns more than 50 times what Herrera earns in a year! To be fair, the business world (with all it's economic and management theories) hasn't really been able to get executive compensation right so we can't expect the sporting world to do so, no? But given the state today, I'd say van Gaal is worth the money and as a United fan, I look forward with hope!

SALARIES OF COACHES AT THE 2014 WORLD CUP

#	COUNTRY	COACH	SALARY PER YEAR
1	Russia	Fabio Capello	$11.4m
2	England	Roy Hodgson	$5.9m
3	Italy	Cesare Prandelli	$4.4m
4	Brazil (Q)	Luiz Felipe Scolari	$3.9m
5	Switzerland (Q)	Ottmar Hitzfeld	$3.7m
6	Germany (Q)	Joachim Low	$3.6m
7	Spain	Vicente Del Bosque	$3.3m
8	Netherlands (Q)	Louis Van Gaal	$2.73m
9	Japan	Alberto Zaccheroni	$2.72m
10	USA (Q)	Juergen Klinsmann	$2.6m
11	France (Q)	Didier Deschamps	$2.16m
12	Portugal	Paulo Bento	$2.16m
13	Iran	Carlos Quieroz	$2.09m
14	Chile (Q)	Jorge Sampaoli	$1.7m
15	Colombia (Q)	Jose Pekerman	$1.6m
16	Australia	Ange Postecoglou	$1.29m
17	Uruguay (Q)	Oscar Tabarez	$1.25m
18	Ivory Coast	Sabri Lamouchi	$1.03m
19	Algeria (Q)	Vahid Halihodzic	$1m
20	Belgium (Q)	Marc Wilmots	$864K
	Greece (Q)	Fernando Santos	$864K
22	Argentina (Q)	Alejandro Sabella	$818K
23	South Korea	Hong Myung-Bo	$795K
24	Honduras	Luis Fernando Suarez	$629K
25	Ecuador	Renaldo Rueda	$566K
26	Costa Rica (Q)	Jorge Luis Pinto	$440K
27	Cameroon	Volker Finke	$394K
28	Nigeria (Q)	Stephen Keshi	$392K
29	Bosnia & Herzegovina	Safet Susic	$352K
30	Croatia	Niko Kovac	$271K
31	Ghana	James Kwesi Appiah	$251K
32	Mexico (Q)	Miguel Herrera	$209K

10 vs 10 = 20/20

With 58 of the 64 games played now in this very exciting tournament, I can safely say I've just watched one of the best games: Brazil vs Colombia in the quarter finals. 

The match has been billed as the battle of No. 10s, Neymar Jr and Rodriguez. Both are their team' stop scorers. Both are young, at 22 years exactly. And both are stars. 

I thought Rodriguez came out on top today. He was a marked man from the beginning but still found space to play in and scored a penalty against Brazil's penalty shootout hero of their keeper, Julio Cesar... Making him 2 goals clear at the top of the Golden Boot chase. But as once said, a player can win you a match, but you need a team to win you the tournament. And Brazil played (finally I must say) as a team today and even with a subdued and eventually injured Neymar Jr, their team won with goals scored by two other players. 

Back to James Rodriguez, I haven't heard of him before but am rather impressed with him, not just for his footballing talents but for his team contribution and ready acknowledgment whenever he scores to the teammate provide the telling assist. So much so, that I had used this analogy at the opening of my recent executive board meeting, hoping to inspire my colleagues to work even better together and appreciate one another.

Photo from conmebol.com

In a knock-out match like this, only one team won, and. Brazil did. That said, Colombia did not lose. They played their heart out in a fast, fully committed end-to-end match. They did credit to the memory of Escobar, the brutally murdered footballer who 20 years ago scored an unfortunate own goal. The have their star, and they played like a team. It's just that. Brazil was a better team today, and they will meet Germany next and I'm sure they are shuddering in their boots. The Germans are in the 4th consecutive World Cup semi-finals. It's a team, almost a machine, who knows how to play in big tournaments and consistently play well. It's representative of their national ethos of systematic discipline. 

Finally, profoundly, I am work-life balanced

Serendipitously, I got introduced to the teachings of St Josemaria Escriva, the saint for everyday life. 

47 years ago, he spoke at a mass at Navarre University in Spain and told the congregation there:

"Consider for a moment the event I have just described. We are celebrating the holy Eucharist, the sacramental sacrifice of the Body and Blood of our Lord, that mystery of faith which binds together all the mysteries of Christianity. We are celebrating, therefore, the most sacred and transcendent act which we, men and women, with God's grace can carry out in this life: receiving the Body and Blood of our Lord is, in a certain sense, like loosening our ties with earth and time, so as to be already with God in heaven, where Christ himself will wipe the tears from our eyes and where there will be no more death, nor mourning, nor cries of distress, because the old world will have passed away.  

This profound and consoling truth, which theologians usually call the eschatological meaning of the Eucharist, could, however, be misunderstood. Indeed, this has happened whenever people have tried to present the Christian way of life as something exclusively spiritual — or better, spiritualistic something reserved for pure, extraordinary people who remain aloof from the contemptible things of this world, or at most tolerate them as something that the spirit just has to live alongside, while we are on this earth.  When people take this approach, churches become the setting par excellence of the Christian way of life. And being a Christian means going to church, taking part in sacred ceremonies, getting into an ecclesiastical mentality, in a special kind of world, considered the ante-chamber to heaven, while the ordinary world follows its own separate course. In this case, Christian teaching and the life of grace would pass by, brushing very lightly against the turbulent advance of human history but never coming into proper contact with it.  

On this October morning, as we prepare to enter upon the memorial of our Lord's Pasch, we flatly reject this deformed vision of Christianity. Reflect for a moment on the setting of our Eucharist, of our Act of Thanksgiving. We find ourselves in a unique temple; we might say that the nave is the University campus; the altarpiece, the University library; over there, the machinery for constructing new buildings; above us, the sky of Navarre...

Surely this confirms in your minds, in a tangible and unforgettable way, the fact that everyday life is the true setting for your lives as Christians. Your daily encounter with Christ takes place where your fellow men, your yearnings, your work and your affections are. It is in the midst of the most material things of the earth that we must sanctify ourselves, serving God and all mankind."

This really struck a chord in me. I too had bought into the notion, and therefore had felt guilty, about ignoring my spiritual calling as I focused on my work... Until the profound words I heard at mass today, which happens to be a feast day commemorating this saint.

Nowadays we hear so much about work-life balance, and often set one off against the other. It need not be so. It need not be so, indeed. 

- Photo from www.stjosemaria.org 

The Beautiful Game (III)

I recall a conversation I had with my father in law more than ten years ago. He had this instinctive feel for the lot of the man in the street and we had discussed if introducing material goods to the aboriginals in the jungles of Sumatra constituted progress. I was younger then and viewed progress narrowly, divorcing it from happiness. I believed then that if a society strived for economic progress, the rest follows. For wealth enables investments, and the right investments help lay the foundation for future progress. 

I believe it less now. So much so, I delivered a TED talk on it. Many societies have become wealthier but they will not become happier if they have not invested their wealth wisely. This is true at both national and family levels. Hence, the truism that wealth does not pass three generations. For hidden beneath the trappings of wealth are seeds of poverty. Wealthy kids get less hungry. Less hunger means they strive less and others overtake them and they eventually lose it.

This duality is evident in everything. In fact, without this dual nature, life wouldn't be what it is. Light is the opposite of dark. Without one, the other has no meaning. And so it is with football, and in particular this World Cup. On so many counts, this is one of the best in memory. Champions are knocked out. Star players are performing. But as all things in life, such defeats or victories become so much more significant in light of the duality of nature: beating Spain, Italy or England becomes monumental because these were former champions. Similarly losing becomes all the more bitter because there has been an injustice or two, be it Dzeko's disallowed goal or a soft penalty award.

More dramatically, this duality can sometimes manifest itself in the same team, even the same person. Consider the case of Luis Suarez, who made the difference in knocking out England. A match later, as his team was on the verge of being kicked out themselves, he resorted to biting the Italian defender who had been keeping tightly constrained for most of the match. This is football. It's more than just a game. It's a real life drama, exhibiting all the good and evil simultaneously. 

Photo credit: montage from telegraph.co.uk

The Beautiful Game (II)

We all know why it's such a popular game. It's rules are simple. Anyone and any number of people can play, on just about any surface in any area. All you need is a round ball. In other words, everyone can be a footballer. But why is it beautiful? I checked (on where else but the encyclopedia of the 21st century, Wikipedia) and learned that In 1977, the famous footballer Pelé named his autobiography My Life and the Beautiful Game. The book's dedication reads "I dedicate this book to all the people who have made this great game the Beautiful Game." The phrase has now entered the language as a colourful description for football and as such was used as part of the title for the 13-part series charting the history of the game: History of Football: The Beautiful Game.

For me, though, the game is beautiful not just for its simplicity and hence ubiquity but in 90 (and sometimes more) minutes, a match is played where victory is decided by very much the same principles that enable winning in real life. So taken was I by its applicability that I even wrote an article on lessons from it for The Edge, the local business weekly two years ago, specifically speaking on Andrea Pirlo's sublime penalty.

Rohit Brijnath had similarly cast the spotlight on this so eloquently, as usual:

"Sport, like life, is refreshed by beginnings, but for that there must be endings.

There is a wonder to the assembling of the jigsaw puzzle of a champion - idea, nerve, practice - yet a different beauty as it disassembles, as those parts corrode and he struggles to hold them together. In sport, before you go bad, you go slow. Yet every fading athlete tries. So did Spain. They tried pride, they tried Diego Costa again - who fits in this team like a bouncer in a ballet troupe - they tried the new, Koke, and the old, Torres. Nothing worked. Not the parts, not the whole. In winning two European titles and a World Cup, they lost one match, now already two. In those 19 matches, they let in a total of six goals. Now in two matches it was seven.

Winning, as Iniesta once told Lowe, takes suffering and perhaps they'd had enough. The elegance of their precision always obscured the sweat of their endeavour. Now a swarming Chile - once colonised by Spain - provided both a lesson in football and in history.

Football without the duet of Xavi, 34, and Iniesta (30, and still a force) will be less musical. In an infantile football world, they were grown-ups. In a game of cheap gamesmanship, they stood above. In a sport of loud egos, they exemplified dignity. In an activity littered with silly off-field headlines, they made none. In a planet consumed by how your hair looks, their style came from their feet. They played football, not games.

For an Asian, they fascinated, for many sports have grown out of our reach. Tennis is ruled by a top five averaging 186cm. In football, a study in 2011 noted that the average height of a player in Europe was 181.96cm. Yet there were these two, both 170cm and all midget mayhem, proving that mind beats muscle and providing this reassurance to the physically disadvantaged: There is no single route to greatness, you just have to find your own. It is why in tennis we cheer for the 178cm Kei Nishikori.

Some tired of Spain's obsession with pass and possession and of wins by squeaky margins (their last four wins at the 2010 World Cup were 1-0). But for me such greatness rarely goes stale, for Xavi, Iniesta, Barcelona, Spain, made football's fraternity think.

Passing, space, time, feel - none of this is new to sport, yet they made a generation look at these ideas again in a sophisticated way.It is why "era" doesn't fit them and we must look within art for a word for them: They were a school, a movement, a period.

It is enough to leave behind. Now Xavi may find a new sun in Qatar and Iniesta a new partner in Spain. Always, even for them, there are new beginnings. Tomorrow we will return to Brazil, to the Netherlands, but as Spain exit, they linger in the mind.

As a poet wrote, "Love is so short, forgetting is so long". The lines were written by Neruda. It just so happens he is Chilean."

To me, football, like life, can indeed be played and won by anyone. As Rohit pointed out, you just need to find the gameplan that suits you: that plays to your strength, that mitigates your shortcomings (no pun intended). But that gameplan cannot last. Your competition wises up and learn how to play against your style. What was once an advantage is no more, and in fact can be a disadvantage. Evolution and sometimes revolution is needed, where both the play book as well as the players must change.

Like Spain, England got booted out of the tournament having lost two matches. And the pundits decried their defensive frailties, but like his counterpart Del Bosque of Spain, I felt Hodgson relied for too long on his ageing stars and in fact both captains, for so long servants of the game for their country are responsible for the respective losses. The leader must know when change is required, up to and including changing his team, even the him/herself. 

Leadership is painful. G shared with me the sentiments of Pope Benedict who felt he could not muster the energy to bear the pain of tackling the problems, and leading a billion person institution. He sought divine guidance and was inspired to duly step down, so a new energetic leader can do so. It reminds me of Gary Neville, who while on million-pound contract, voluntarily retired early as he felt he could no longer play and contribute to his team, Manchester United. Closer home, one of my mentors, FH reinforced this notion as he moved on from one leadership role to another to enable a younger person to take over and lead the organisation in new ways.

Indeed, just as the second matches in the group stage are getting concluded, many of these lessons are already put into practice. Opponents adjust their tactics and the big boys all got caught out, or nearly so. Brazil got held to a scoreless draw by Mexico. Netherlands - so emphatic against Spain - nearly couldn't beat Australia (with Tim Cahill scoring a goal that would challenge Van Persie's as the best goal of the tournament), Germany - dominant against Portugal - was taken to task by Ghana. 

So the beautiful game is really a game of life; better than the board game of the same name that M enjoyed. It is so not only because everyone can play, not only because it's lessons are real for the game and in life, but also because it provides moments of drama, entertainment and ultimate joy (or pain). It is indeed the beautiful game!

The Beautiful Game (I)

The FIFA 2014 World Cup in Brazil kicked off just as we returned from our trip to Brazil et al. The opening matches in the 8 groups have been played. And already this is turning out to be a great tournament, even if the time difference (jet lag notwithstanding) is not conducive for watching any of the games live. So far, of the matches played, I've only caught three partially in real time, and only 1 in full. I did have the good fortune to catch all the turning points, though...

1. Neymar's highly deliberate elbow on Modric and then proceeding to score a virtuoso equaliser

2. How Drogba came on as a sub against Japan and changed the game just with his presence on the pitch

3. Messi's ability to produce a moment of magic for an otherwise lethargic Argentine side that produced the winner against a valiant if less talented Bosnian team

It's funny how sports mimic real life. There are moments in which the whole outcome can be changed. No one says it better than one of my favourite sports writer, Rohit Brijnath... 

"It is the 42nd minute. Spain are 1-0.

The pass comes to David Silva. His nickname is Merlin. But even wizards can miss a trick. He has only the goalkeeper to beat and as a moment it resembles the 2010 World Cup final, 63rd minute, no score, and Arjen Robben with only goalkeeper Iker Casillas to beat.

Then, Robben's shot hits Casillas' trailing right foot and bounces wide. Now, Silva's chip ricochets off Dutch goalkeeper Jasper Cillessen's flailing hands and goes out.

At the 44th minute: A cross from the left and Robin van Persie does what we prefer strikers to do: He dives, legitimately, in the penalty area to score a goal so splendid it makes hair and a planet stand. As Vincent van Gogh, another Dutch artist, once said: "What would life be if we had no courage to attempt anything?"

It is 1-1. Two minutes, two chances, but only one goal.

Sophocles, the Greek writer of tragedies, once noted that "I have no desire to suffer twice, in reality and then in retrospect". But in sport, retrospect, or a contemplation of the past, is fundamental.

Erik Spoelstra, the Miami Heat coach, led his team into the film room recently to watch a painful defeat. As critics we look back, too, sifting through games like sporting archaeologists, trying to identify moments when matches swung or empires teetered.

Perhaps for Spain it was here. In these two minutes.

Had Silva scored, it would be 2-0. For Spain, 2-0 could mean momentum and confidence. For the Dutch, 0-2 could be deflating and damaging. We don't know for sure. What we do know is that the threads on which victory hang are thin. Just one point. One putt. One chance.

In their prime, teams have an instinct for these chances and grasp them. Right then, when opportunity knocks and is smoothly taken, they're not certain of the cost of the missed chance. Till it happens. Till Silva misses.

This is the insanity of sport - how so much rests on so little. Roger Federer has two match points in the fifth set against Novak Djokovic in the 2011 US Open semi-final. A final beckons. One "lucky" Serbian forehand, one errant Swiss forehand, and the chance slips away. Federer never makes another US semi-final and only one more Grand Slam final.

At the 2009 PGA Championships, Tiger Woods leads after day three. In 14 Majors, he's never lost when at least sharing the lead on the final day. Now putts slip past, a chance dies and Woods hasn't won a Major since. He's nearly there but never quite, a margin as small but as significant as removing the first two letters from the word "invincible".

Sporting empires rarely end with neat, fond farewells; instead they drag on, searching for one more trophy, till they abruptly meet a moment of excruciating humiliation. Yet as much as we feel sympathy for Spain, this is the wonderful justice of sport: What you do to others will one day be done to you."

There is one other ingredient: hunger. Therefore, not so curiously, Spain who had many Real Madrid players (who had just won a record 10th Champions League title just weeks earlier) may have played with that little bit less hunger. Indeed the same goes for Madrid players in other teams: Marcello who scored an own goal for Brazil (their first in history of these finals) and Ronaldo (more about him later).

So, in life, as in sport, circumstances lead us up to a pivotal moment and just as Silva failed to put Spain the world champions 2-0 up, Netherlands's captain, Robin van Persie, scored the best goal of these opening group matches, and probably the best goal of this World Cup. A diving header to meet a lob from the middle of the field. It's so sublime that it's got christened with its own moniker, 'perseing'. The goal put Netherlands on equal terms and more critically the beauty of it injected so much confidence in the team that they were invincible hence.

Invincibility is less on show elsewhere (save maybe for Germany whom I saw, in full, trounce a CR-led Portugal 4-0), but virtuouso performances certainly were. The stars (except Ronaldo and Rooney, sigh) have all lived up to expectations. In fact, it is the stars that have individually changed the outcomes of the games they played. And when the stars don't show, sometimes the entire team can't perform. I submit to you exhibit A: The England team who just lost their opening match. Rooney was largely absent and though the team did try their best, Italy won, through a Balotelli (why always him? :-) header. 

Like many here in Malaysia and Singapore, our allegiance in these global tournaments are somewhat pledged to England... No, not because they were our colonial masters, but more because when many of us were growing up, besides Malaysia Cup, the Road to Wembley telecast were the only live football matches we could watch. That's how I first fell in love with Manchester United and that's why I feel for the United players (past and present) when they lose. But supporting  Portugal and England must be foolhardy choices. 

As Marc Lim, The Straits Times Sports Editor pointed out, "supporting the England football team is like being married to a lousy spouse. You know there are better options out there. You hope and expect the best. But you know you will just end up being constantly disappointed.Worse, you find yourself starting to make excuses for them."

Thankfully, so far this has been a great World Cup and I certainly am enjoying it and won't need to be making excuses for anyone! As a neutral football fan, I am just enthralled by what is promising to be one of the best tournaments in recent times. (And I sure hoped there will be no commentator jnx here!)

GOAL! GOAL! GOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAALLLL!

(Photo by Jeff Gross / Getty Images)

Finally home

We've been away nearly a month and even after we've landed back in Singapore during the week, something was missing. Well, three things to be precise.

1. Firstly, we haven't had local food for awhile (despite the best efforts of chef Tanta in Lima)

2. M was away with the grandparents in Malaysia

3. J was leading his scouts in their annual camp

So, in a way, we're back but only a quarter of the way so. We started first with tucking into local fare... beginning with a hearty double breakfast (of chai tow kuay + roti prata) in Ang Mo Kio, followed by a coffee break with fantastic Kopi-O prepared by an executive who preferred to ply his trade in the hawker centre, then lunching at a famous Chicken Rice establishment in Balestier. Naturally, we also couldn't miss out on the kaya toast with soft boiled eggs! The mission continued with Laksa, Wan Tan Mee, Ngoh Hiang, cendol, rojak and durians (twice) in Malacca. All of that only got us to halfway home...

It got passed the half full mark only when we saw M, who had spent a couple of nights with her cousins and grandparents.

To complete the circle, we had to wait till Sunday morning, after we returned from Malacca, to see J. And we celebrated with an appropriate superheroes movie: the latest installment of the X-men franchise, Days of Future Past... Which is kind of appropriate as we met the start of the show in the flesh right about this time last year! The real star of this episode though is hugely talented Jennifer Lawrence, one of M's favourites, and the notion that one had to go back to the past to alter the future. It would indeed be decidedly better if one made the right decisions in the present so the past can remain the past. Another star of the show is the character Quicksilver (played so well in a devil-may-care way by Peter Evans) who could move faster than speeding bullets.

J must have wished he had this mutant's speed for he has been indeed trying to cram a lot into his teenage days. He lamented how busy he has been this June hols, and in fact how busy he has been the past few June hols. I hope he wouldn't have to wait 24 years to take his first sabbatical (unlike me). In fact, so driven was I that even when I switched jobs back in 1996 and then 1999, I didn't take any breaks in between. Now, as I look back now, the job changes preceded the births of both children. Looks like we were prepared to really make seminal (hmm, no pun intended!) changes then. I think it was Steve Jobs who famously said that you can only connect the dots in your life looking back. At the time it happened, it didn't feel like some grand masterplan. Yes, I did have a penchant of envisioning what lies ahead and then doing my best to alter my course towards it. Indeed, I am even prepared to take a step back to ultimately advance two forward and that was certainly the case when I switched jobs (both times). But to do so, while switching locales and having kids, now look really courageous and truly inspired. Talk about days of future past! All said, I know there is only one way all of this could be achieved. And it's because I have D. 

Now, we are home.