Stepping down
Tomorrow marks the final duty that I carry out as the secretary of the club. It has been a long six years in the making. Very long, very painful, but also very fulfilling.
The first four years passed by in a blur – me as the one lagging behind, I recall how I used to envy the ones who represented the school. They were the privileged, the best and the brightest. Me? I was in the range as the armourer, consigned to a duty to guide the juniors, while doing nothing.
Well, got elected as captain somehow, but Sec 4 was fraught with distractions. Started pistol training, didn’t hit the card for the first month, began to clip the edge in the second and third. It was, to say the least, depressing. But still we perservered. Hong Chan. Jiayi. Yi Da. Me.
I think it was pretty clear that we’d be the ones shooting for the school in college. End of the Sec 4 year was also the year that we started hogging the Denker lanes. Those were the happy days of training.
Then came college. J1 was a year of angst and pain – thinking I couldn’t do it, but returning for more punishment like some druggie. Lost the chance to represent the school, but gained something out of it – emotional maturity. I remember being filled with anger at the team listing, but the anger subsided quickly, in fact more quickly than any time in the past.
Because I knew I couldn’t hold it against anyone. It was really kismet that I happened to read Jeffrey Archer’s The Prodigal Daughter around that time as well.
“It would be foolish to wish everyone success, as you cannot all expect to win the Woolson Prize, so I will only express the hope that when you have completed the three papers, each and every one of you will feel that you could not have done better.”
…
“I shall not ask if you consider you have won the prize, my dear, only if you did as well as you had hoped.”
“Yes,” said Florentyna, after some thought. “If I don’t win a scholarship, it will be because I am not good enough.”
And I think that has been the guiding principle for the two years of college life for me, to do my utmost best, and leave the rest to fate, leaving behind no regrets.
J2 year rolled round with the new intake. I recall thinking that it was hopeless – too many newbies, too many pistolers, not enough female riflers, only 2 new male riflers. I told as much to Hong Chan, but he was nonchalant, something of a ‘everything will be ok’ kind of attitude.
Hid my anxiety throughout the year. As I got to know them better, I started to relax. Many of them surprised me.
Nationals passed by in a blur. Shot a personal best, which was still low. I remember Hong Chan and me being under immense pressure during Wensen’s detail. Kept calling him out because he was nervous. I think we were more nervous for him than during our own competitions. Kept going out to the scoreboard to check on our scores, hoping and praying that we’d shoot to our normal standards. Won a zone gold for team and zone bronze for individual. Not the best, not our target, but nonetheless, a fitting closure.
Looking back on the past six years, I’d say that the college years have been the most fruitful. While the happiest days were in the high school club, I grew up the fastest in college. I was a lot more responsible in college than in high school too. I told myself at the beginning of the year that I’d like to be able to say that I discharged my duties to the best of my abilties. I hope I did.
Special thanks to:
Teachers: Miss Teo Mui Hong, Mr Charles Low, Mr Khairul
Coaches: Coach Zhang Shaoying, Coach Jia Ying, Coach Li Jie, Coach Zhang Zuoqiang
Seniors: Jeremy, Weiren, Melvin Tan, Yi Da, Jiayi
Batchmates: Bo Xian, Bo Xuan, Kelvin, Hong Chan
Juniors: Xin Xi, Kai Yun, Yanhui, Hui Ying, Yilina, Wensen, Xiang Quan, Daniel Lee, Alex, Ryan, Hong Nan, Eng Way, Mark, Dale, Dominic
Nanyang: Michelle, Shi Ing, Zijin, Eening
So many people, so little time.
Didn’t we almost have it all
The night we held on till the morning
You know you’ll never love that way again
Didn’t we almost have it all
Bittersweet memories, passing through the corner of my mind’s eye. There once, we relive them again through the looking glass.
