Organised Chaos v3.0

There is something calming about dull aches after a good workout. After the badminton I slothed over to my new (ahem) couch, repositioned the cushions and made friends with fairies until the brilliant sunshine that is uncharacteristically February set at 4.30pm. I woke up to Brad Friedel making yet another save on ESPN.

I remember my first badminton tournament. I was eleven or twelve, and the Kajang Zone tournament was held at Dewan Holy Family near Jalan Bukit. It remains in memory because I couldn’t find a pair of track bottoms to play in. I wore normal pants to the game, prompting our team teacher to ask me if I brought something to change into for the game. I shook my head, took to the court and happily got creamed by an awesome player from SRJK(C) Yu Hua to the tune of 11-2, 11-5.

Over the years, having played badminton all through high school and even university, I’ve noticed that the thing with badminton - which is probably true for all sports - is that you can learn the basic strokes, and you can learn the strategies, movements and techniques. If you play frequently enough, you can even execute trick shots just like the ones you see on tv. But while that trick shot, that super smash or that smart little net dink is something you or I can pull once every few games, top players do that time after time after time. Consistency.

And how else do you become consistent if not for hours and hours of drilling, of doing the same thing over and over and over again until it is perfected. I tell my second year accounting students, the only way to understand some accounting techniques is to apply them, and then continue to reapply them until it makes sense. Or, in the words that I use - do the exercises until you throw up, mop up the mess, wash your face and start again.

Malcolm Gladwell pointed this out in his book on Genius, arguing that 10,000 iterations is the minimum one needs to become a master - be it in the number of free kicks David Beckham executes every training session, or the number of times Yo-yo Ma stared that music sheet in the face.

So really, if I’d be willing to work on my short serve 9,500 more times, maybe that serve would eventually make it over the net.

People say a lot of things about the institution that is the quintessential Malaysian single sex boarding school. Of late brickbats have been thrown re: the academic performance of these self-styled select institutions. I admit that my 5 years of STF was spent playing the fool more than studying; and that in retrospect had I stayed in Bangi I would have probably performed much better academically; would have probably gotten the 9A1s (we only did 9 papers way back when..) and would now probably be a medical doctor, as per parental aspirations. I’d also probably be quite unhappy, but that’s another story.

This story is about the girls who were there with me. Without going all ra-ra sisterhood on everyone, I’d just like to say that, following the events of the past few days, there would have been no other place I’d rather have spent five years in. Boarding schools may not offer academic education that is that much superior. But it also gives you so much more.

My friend Zoorek is battling leukimia. The girls have set up a fund to help her out with non-medical costs. If you’d like to lend a hand, we, collectively, would be more than grateful. Details here.