Being a star isn't all it's cracked up to be

[kenmura]

Coming from a country like Singapore where academic excellence is put above everything else, it wasn't surprising that I never ever harboured thoughts of becoming a pro footballer. I wanted to be lawyer growing up, and I studied hard to fulfill my goal. Funny then how fate tends to play things out.

When I was 17, being on of the top students in my college, I was selected for a one month student exchange program to a Japanese college where local students could fully embrace and experience first hand our Asian neighbour's traditions and cultures. My host family, the Kimuras, were a very very traditional and old-fashioned family. Their son, a 16 year old boy named Kudo, was extremely quiet. Preferring to spend his time reading the latest manga then going to chase the local birds, I knew that this was going to be a very long and tedious trip. Thank goodness there was football to look forward to. Football, apparantly, is the national sport here, even more so than sumo or baseball. No doubt due to the fact that Japan was the host of the World Cup back in 2002. The entire country is obsessed with Beckhamania and almost everyone is a fan of Real Madrid. I swear, you couldn't turn a corner without seeing a poster of David hawking Japanese chocolates or Adidas apparel and you couldn't even turn on the telly without seeing the very sexy Victoria hawking Kanebo lipstick. The Kimuras spoke very little English -fortunately for me, being a quarter Japanese myself (my maternal grandfather was Japanese), this was not to be a problem. The only problem I faced over there was that of utter boredom and frustration. I spent my days at the college I was assigned to and my nights playing keepy-uppy in the Kimuras' backyard.

Surprisingly, one evening, Kudo (who up till this point hadn't said more than 10 sentences to me) came up to me and said,
"I notice you like to prayo football. I pray with my friends at a park nearby once a weeko. You wanna pray?"
Hell Yeah.

So down to the park we went. Maybe it was the pent up frustration of the past week or maybe there was just something in the air that night - but I was unstoppable. Heck, I was like Cristiano Ronaldo on speed! Dribbles, feints, dragbacks, shots, goals - I had them all. I was playing at a level I never knew possible and it felt like I could do anything at all - until I came crashing back to Earth. Literally. This thuggish ***, who had been on the receiving end of my feints (I swear I put the ball between his legs twice), obviously had enough of looking like a rank amateur. As I was racing past him, he took a wild swing at my shin. Ignoring the stabbing pain, I leapt to my feet as a red haze descended upon me. Grabbing his throat, I hissed in his face, "You ever try that again, I'll make sure you never celebrate Father's Day. Wakatta??"

Maybe it was the adrenaline coursing through me, but I didn't even realise that a watching bystander had forcibly dragged me away from the park. So when I came to my senses, imagine my initial shock that I was now facing a distingushed looking, middle aged man in a business suit. I felt like I was in an episode of the Twillight Zone or something.

"Kombanwa. I've been watchingo you. You have tarent. But such bad tempero! Japanese phirosopher he say, "Tarent and anger like barroon and needle - one *****, all gone.""
"Erm...kombanwa. Not to be rude or anything but who the hell are you?"
"Ah So. I am Watakushi-san. I amo tarnento scouto from FC Tokyo. This is my namecard. I want you to come for a trial tomorrow. At 6 pm."

Now I knew I really WAS in the Twillight Zone.

"A scout? What's a scout doing in a business suit? Where's the hidden cameras mate?"
"No camerah. I am a part time scouto. I work as tour guide in rocal temple. I hope to see you there tomorrow."

And with that, he bowed and left.

http://i55.photobucket.com/albums/g159/tygrr_eyez/suit.jpg

Watakushi-san. The man who started it all.

[kenmura]

When I woke up the next morning, I was convinced that everything that had happened last night was a nothing more than a dream. A scout? Approaching me for a trial? When I'm on an EDUCATIONAL trip? No way. Only one thing though - my shin was hurting like hell and I did have that mysterious namecard.

I spent the entire day at the college in a daze. Should I go for this trial? What if I get selected? My parents aren't going to be impressed. My college back in Singapore isn't going to be too pleased. And let's face it - things like this don't happen in real life! Singaporeans don't just up and leave to play football in Japan of all places. Yet there was this nagging doubt in my mind - 'What if this was what I'm meant to do?'

After school that day, I went down to the nearby cafe to grab a drink and to collect my thoughts. As I nursed my bottle of Lucozade, I noticed a poster of David Beckham (who else?) looking all spiffy and a little poofy, carrying that bar of chocolate. Hey, maybe being a star isn't that bad after all huh? I might even land myself a wife who looks like Victoria Beckham. I wouldn't kick her out of bed at night, I'll tell you that. After all, it's only a trial. What harm could come out of it? Besides, what was the alternative? A scintillating night of playing keepy-uppy in the Kimuras' backyard before lying in bed wondering what might have been?

So off to the trial I went. Watakushi-san was there to greet me and to show me around the club. It was larger than I expected, with training facilities I could only imagine. He showed me into the dressing room where they had prepared a training kit for me. There was even a cup of tea there to help soothe my nerves! Trust the Japanese to think of everything. If this was what being a star was all about, I'm all for it! I could certainly picture myself having a future at this club.

During the trial, they put me through the paces. While the first team had their usual training session behind me, I was put through different tests like passing, shooting, dribbling, set-piece taking and tackling. What I didn't count on was two things - that painful shin of mine and my nerves. I must have wanted this more than I thought I did. First up was the passing drill where I was supposed to knock several cones down. My confidence was shattered when I took that first pass, missed the cone completely and heard Oshio, the star player for FC Tokyo say in a voice that was meant to carry, "What a complete waste of time. Baka."

I was getting frustrated, flustered and my shin was still hurting beyond belief. I completely missed the open goal during the set piece drill, slipping during the run up to the kick, falling on my bum and blasting the shot well above the bar. Didn't Mr. Beckham blast a penalty against Turkey the very same way? I swear I saw Watakushi-san who was sitting in the stands look around for a hole to open up in the ground to swallow him alive. I've never been more embarressed or inept in my entire life. To complete the fiasco, during the shooting drill, instead of shooting the ball into the unguarded net, I somehow managed to aim it straight at the drill taker, hitting him squarely in the face.

It came as no surprise that FC Tokyo didn't want to offer me a contract. In fact, they were so unimpressed by my performance that they encouraged me to try out for one of their rival clubs instead. Apologizing to Watakushi-san, I hobbled out of the club to make my way back to the Kimuras.

http://i55.photobucket.com/albums/g159/tygrr_eyez/fc06_care_nakami.gif
Guess i wasn't gonna be on that poster huh?

[kenmura]

So there I was, back at the Kimuras, nursing my injured shin and going about my usual routine. College, educational tours, cultural enrichment programs and the occasional foray into the Japanese pubs and discos with several friends I made from school. I had even acquired a Japanese nickname for myself - kenmura. An amalgamation of my Christian name Kenn and the surname of my host family, Kimura.

Time passes quickly when things are uneventful and before you knew it, I was in my final week in Japan. One night, as I was nursing a beer at the stylish Akihabara Disco in Roppongi, I couldn't help but think back to that mis-trial, if you could call it that. On the one hand, I couldn't be bothered with a career as a professional footballer. I mean, what were the prospects? A 15 year old playing career before becoming a guest star on "Where are they now?"? On the other hand, I couldn't help but wonder if I could have made the grade if I was fully fit. I mean, the drills weren't that difficult. I'm pretty sure I could have done it with an arm tied around my back. Besides, I love a challenge. The words of Oshio, the FC Tokyo player kept ringing in my head - "What a complete waste of time".

The next day, I decided to give it one final shot. After all, what's there to lose except my pride? I took the subway down to Shimizu S-Pulse, one of the J-League clubs that were languishing in mid-table. I certainly wasn't going to go back to FC Tokyo where I had the trial of the century. Once there, I barged straight into the manager's office.

"Ohaiyo Gozaimasu. Please pardon my intrusion but I'm from Singapore and I would love to be given a trial at this fine club."
"Ohaiyo. That is nice but..."
"No 'buts' Sir. I'm afraid I won't leave your office until you give me another shot. I know I'm good enough and I won't be satisfied until I prove it."
"Yes, yes, but..."
"Sir! I must insist that I be given this chance to prove myself to you. The team will be a better one for it. I have complete faith in my abilities and I'm sure you won't be disappointed."
"Wait, but..."
"SIR! PLEASE! NO 'BUTS'! I really think I can do it. Just give me that shot!"
"SHUT UP!!!!!! I hear you but this is highly unusual. We are a professional clubo. We don't just give trials to any Tom, Dick and Harryo. Luckiry for you, we're conducting trials today so you may have 10 minutes of our time. Just go see Mazda, our youth team coach and tell him I sent you. His office is down the hall. Oh and another thing - I'm the manager of the first teamo. Don't ever bother me with such trivial matters again. Understando?"
"Erm... Yes. Arigato."

With that, I headed off to look for the youth team coach with my heart in my mouth. What did I just get myself into? Another round of public humiliation? Mazda kitted me out before escorting me down to the pitch. The drills were exactly the same as those I had encountered at FC Tokyo previously. Imagine my utter relief when I knocked down a cone on my very first attempt! 10 minutes felt like an eternity, especially with the other trialists watching me from the bylines. It felt even longer when I had to watch Mazda put the others through their paces one by one. There were quite a few outstanding ones, although the one I felt most for was this guy who wasn't able to hit the target throughout his trial. I feel for you, mate.

Later on, we were all sitting in the youth canteen awaiting our respective fates. Some players were listening to their I-pods, some were playing with their handphones. Me? All I could think of was the great big hole I had dug for myself by coming to this trial. If I wasn't selected, my confidence was about to take a huge beating. Again. If I was selected, my problems would multiply instantly. How was I going to tell my parents that I won't be returning to my studies? How was I going to even tell them that I won't even be returning to Singapore for the foreseeable future?! Then, Mazda strode in.

"I have discussed with the management and we have decided to retain the following players - Hiroshi, Tazaki and Weng. Follow me. The rest of you, Sayonara."

I sat there in stunned silence. Weng. That's me. Now I'm screwed! Guess I better turn them down before I get disowned.

We followed Mazda into a conference room where Moto, the manager was already seated. When he saw me, he grinned and went, "Ah So. You are good enough after all." The other trainees looked at me, wondering how the manager knew who I was. I could only grin sheepishly in return. When it came to my turn, Moto sat me down and minced no words.

"Look. I hear you were the best during the trial. You won't be going into the team immediately, but if you work hard, I might just find you useful after all. How does 1300 a week sound?"

I swear I was about to turn him down, but strangely, I heard myself agreeing to his terms. So that's then. I'm now an official Shimuzu player! Game on!

http://i55.photobucket.com/albums/g159/tygrr_eyez/spulse.jpg

Guess I better find a way to break it to my parents then...

[Dr.Tchock]

I realy have trouble with these acounts, they seem so real I'm not even shure if your kidding or not. hehe. amazing though

[Fabrizio Gatti]

Cool writing mate!! keep it coming :D
Same trouble as tchock tough ;)

[kenmura]

thanks guys...
appreciate those comments! :D:clap:

[JJU]

Great reading, really like it. I can almost picture this being an anime style story in my head :lol: Keep it coming, nice style :)

[kenmura]

Well, if being a teenager is tough, being a teenage pro footballer is even tougher. But if you ask me, being a Singaporean teenage pro footballer all alone in a foreign land is the toughest of all. Not only were my parents devastated, the fans and critics over here in Japan weren't at all convinced by my ability (or the lack of it). The media back home in Singapore were thrilled though. I was after all, the first Singaporean footballer to be plying my trade in Japan. 'The Next Fandi Ahmad', they were calling me, comparing me to Singapore football's favourite son who had years earlier plyed his trade in Holland with FC Groningen after turning down Ajax. The first week at Shimizu was spent doing loads of media interviews with the press from Singapore who had sent a film crew over so that they could telecast J-League matches involving Shimizu from then on. This had to be a precedented first for us. Back home, we have live coverage of all the EPL, Serie A and Primera Liga matches, but now, I guess we could add J-League matches to that list. I was already a mini-celebrity in Singapore - all before even kicking a ball!

Things weren't that rosy in Japan though. Having moved out of the Kimuras' house and into a rented apartment near the stadium, I had lots of time for extra training sessions after the first team had left. As expected, I wasn't selected for the first team once the season kicked off so I had ample opportunity to work on my physical and technical attributes. Staying behind, working on my drills all alone soon became a way of life for me. The media frenzy was beginning to die down with my not being selected and after the brief glimpse of stardom, I felt painfully lost and alone. Choosing not to let it get me down, I decided to work doubly hard on getting myself ready in case Moto was ready to pick me to play.

I still remember that fateful day. It was just after regulation training and I was about to start with my extra training when Mazda came racing down the pitch towards me.

"Weng! Better not overdo it today!"
"Huh?"
"Moto-san has picked you to play this Saturday! Against FC Tokyo!"

As fate would have it, my Shimizu S-Pulse debut was going to be against FC Tokyo! You really couldn't have written a better script. I could barely sleep that Friday night. Word had gotten out about my selection and the scribes were all in town with their pens sharpened, ready to either build me up or bring me down.

The next day came and I took my place with the others in the dressing room for the pre-match tactical talk.

"Nervous?", asked Moto-san just before we ran out onto the pitch.
"Hai, but it'll fade. I've got a score to settle."
"Good boy. Go!"

Now I wish I could tell you that this debut had a fairy tale ending to it, with me scoring a hattrick from central midfield and rubbing Oshio's face in it. It wasn't to be, however. The match kicked off at a frantic pace and Oshio scored a 20 yard scorcher that left my keeper grasping at thin air in the 6th minute. 1-0 to FC Tokyo. Maybe it was the nerves, the glare of the stadium lights or the fans' anxiety - whatever it was, it certainly got to me that night. I failed to pass the ball cleanly, often gifting the ball to the opposition midfielder before chasing him down like a man possessed and scything him down to regain possession. That's how I got my first yellow card in my professional career.

During halftime, we were still a goal down and Moto wasn't pleased at all. He felt that the midfield in particular were letting the team down, not creating enough chances for the forwards and not offering enough protection to the defence. I came in for my fair share of abuse from Moto which ended with him threatening to take me off in the 60th minute if I don't focus more in the second half.

Looking back now, I wish he had just taken me off at half-time.

Shortly after the 2nd half started, Moto's words seemed to have an effect after all. In the 49th minute, our right winger managed to gain a yard of space in front of him and sent in a great cross that was headed home by our main forward Takeshi. 1-1! The fans go wild and I was ecstatic. Shimizu S-Pulse were slowly but surely grabbing the game by its horns. In the 53rd minute, Takeshi managed to break free of his marker in the box and the FC Tokyo defender lunged in for a last minute tackle, catching Takeshi's ankle in the process. To our utter dismay, the referee decided that it was a fair challenge and no penalty was awarded! I felt that all too familiar red mist descend upon me again. In a swift counter attack, the ball was released to Oshio who started on a long, mazy run towards our goalkeeper who was screaming for our attention as several of my teammates were still arguing and screaming at the referee . Incensed, I raced towards Oshio before diving in catching him from behind, causing him to collapse in a sickening thud. Problem was, he was already in the Shimizu penalty box by then and a penalty was awarded against us. Without bothering to look at the referee, I turned and made my way to the tunnel with the referee showing my back my 2nd yellow of the match. As I walked towards the tunnel, I felt 25000 pairs of Shimizu fans' eyes bore a hole into me whilst listening to the boos of another 4500 FC fans.

After the match, which we lost 3-1, I cut a desolete figure in the dressing room.Moto had earlier burst into the dressing room, hurling abuse at me, telling me if I ever "pulled a stunt like that again, I would never pray again in Japan". I felt terrible and was inconsolable, especially since I felt as if I had let my entire team down.

Picking up the local newspaper the next day, it was as I feared. My crunching tackle on Oshio had made the sports headlines, with the critics in particularly fine form that day. Comments ranging from "reckless" to "pathetic" were noted with dismay but I felt even worse when I read that Oshio had suffered a broken leg and would play no further part that season. Well, maybe just a teensy bit worse. The way I see it, I may have lost the match but I certainly won the argument! ;)

http://i55.photobucket.com/albums/g159/tygrr_eyez/_38082949_coco_ap_300.jpg

[wonder]

Had a nice time reading, keep it coming mate