This just made my day, a thousand times over. Funny how a simple piece of music can so successfully capture the feel of basketball in the ’90s – of MJ and Pip flat-out dominating everyone else for an entire decade, of GP and Kemp doing their thing, of the timeless Stockton-to-Malone pick and roll, of Patrick proudly standing taller than any skyscraper can in New York, of Reggie hitting all those blood-curdling jumpers, of Grant Hill’s early career, of the tragic what-coulda-been of Penny and Shaq.

And, of me as a teenager a world away and a decade ago, soaking it all in while falling in love with the game of basketball, spending every free moment I had shooting jumpers at the nearby Serangoon Gardens community center and obsessing over the arc of my shot or my layup step footwork.

I can’t even write this without getting teary eyed. Some of you may laugh at that, but those of you who get it… understand. Because for me, and for millions of kids out there like me I think, this song will always be the anthem and soundtrack of not just the NBA on NBC, or even of basketball, but of an entire decade of our lives.

Dinner at home with fam – linguine & KFC – not often had, bit too Guy’s Big Bite, but it works. Chicken too salty, feel disgusted. Need to run; 8.25pm already with storm clouds brewing. Nonetheless, summer; sun still out another half hour. Linger on brink of too-late-to-run / it’ll rain anyway / too restless to not run. Decisive for a change – grab shoes, slip on brigade polo tee and nike jersey shorts, run off.

Down the slope, past the construction site. Underneath CN railway and Gardiner; Lakeshore. Cross it, notice parking lot rubbish dumping ground in annoyance / bemusement. Hit the lake, turn east on usual route toward Sunnyside.

Then it hits – the perfect moment. Sky that had been hidden behind me revealed to be warm, honey orange. Tender light envelopes everything – look down at hands outstretched, at uncannily calm lake, at unmoving leaves and trees and amber silhouette of nearby condominiums – all glowing with same light. Keep jogging, silly smile on face, entirely happy and content to just be. Mild drizzle starts – but instead of dampening mood, only makes things more poignant. Yet scent of rain hints at memories.

And then, too quickly, moment ends – drizzle turns into deluge, and that rare feeling leaves, replaced by worry. No lightning yet, but in middle of lakeside park – very bad place to be in thunderstorm. Consider going strong, try to hold on to moment that is already long gone.

Logic prevails, run under shady tree next to woman and daughter. Squat under tree, still get drenched; scent of rain now full blown freshness, memories of countless days and nights spent crouched in camo under rainy trees flood back. Best times.

Downpour fizzles as fast as began, relapses into drizzle. Storm clouds blow by, ephemeral glint of orange glow re-emerges but isn’t the same. Decide to make a break for home as see lightning in distance. Double back, double-quick time. 1 km later, barely panting, semi proud of improving fitness. Yet, once-radiant glow seems a lot more faded, replaced by dark and damp and moody clouds.

It… came and went, and I can’t ever hope to do it justice in words, as… basic and honest and plain and direct as the words I have chosen. But sometimes in life there are these… moments which come, instances where you feel completely at ease and happy and content to just… be. You could be with your loved ones, you could be stuck in a crowd, you could be at a Christmas party… it doesn’t matter what or where or with whom, you just know, I guess, that you’d stop time if you could forever so that you could hold onto it and live forever in it in a moment that’ll last for all time. Yet it doesn’t, and it’s fleeting and over too fast. But you don’t forget, and I won’t either. So thank you for June 28th 2009, 8.40pm for being that moment I’ll never forget.

2009: The (Hallucinatory) Year That Was
Looking back at President Obama’s first year in the Whitehouse

March 27, 2010 – Has it really only been a year since Barack Obama was elected as the 44th US President? On hindsight, nobody could have predicted how things have turned out since last spring. There remains a lot of work to be done before America and the world recovers from The Rather Prodigious Recession of 2009, but for now at least, it seems we’re moving in the right direction.

The economy seems to be on the right track. Inexplicably keeping his cool through the first quarter of 2009 that essentially saw the Dow halve in value while the flock of media vultures condemned his not-two-month-old policies for the collective sins of the past eight years, President Obama somehow managed to make the far-sighted decisions that have only recently started coming to fruition. By channeling Truman’s “The Buck Stops Here” motto in a historic early April speech, a stern President Obama forever put an end to the bickering negative slew of CEO witch hunts and fashionable blame-the-government speeches that wracked early 2009, stalling progress in spite of its dire need. Instead, by refocusing America’s workforce into rebuilding its disintegrating infrastructure, Obama created tens of thousands of jobs while paving the way for a more competitive America – thereby investing in a much more stable global economy which doesn’t hinge on trillion dollar trade imbalances and international vendor financing to fuel both the American Dream and double-digit emerging market growth. Rising literacy levels and the fact that the Ford Fiesta has somehow replaced the Hummer (thanks in no small part to P. Diddy’s “Green or Die” campaign) as the “street-cred” car to drive is just icing on the cake.

Equally promising is America’s improvements in its foreign relations, not just with its enemies but its allies. Obama’s second visit to Ottawa in late 2009 was a significant step forward in US-Canada relations, which had thawed somewhat in the wake of Chrétien’s opposition of the Iraq War, and the seemingly genuine rapport between President Obama and Prime Minister Ignatieff hints at stronger cooperation in the days to come. Downing Street and the White House transcended their initially lukewarm relationship, and have worked hand in hand in stabilizing the global economy. Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, building on the inadvertently humorous goodwill resulting from her “overcharge” button gaffe with Russia, went on to push the reset button on relations with China. Cuba followed.

In a truly historic move, Barack Obama ran the cleanest, most successful campaign in NBA history – using the internet as a medium to reach All-Star voters in a way the likes of Gilbert Arenas and Chris Bosh could only dream of, the Baller-In-Chief was voted in as a starting guard in the 2010 NBA All-Star Game. Donning a Chicago Bulls jersey, Obama dropped 31 points on a hapless, dejected Kobe Bryant en route to a 122-98 blowout victory over the West. Yes he can.

Disney woke up one day in realization that The Mickey Mouse Club never really was about Britney and Justin and Christina to begin with, found itself shocked at the cultural damage it had wrought over the last decade as a pop tart factory… and resolved to someday make children’s cartoons once more.

Polar bears are still on the endangered species list, and fruit fly research continues unabated.

Will all this come to pass? If he even accomplishes half of what he sets out to do, Barack Obama will already have proven himself to be one of the greatest world leaders in history. More importantly though, does it even matter? The truth is, despite the efforts of frenzied media pundits who will try and convince us otherwise, it isn’t as important that Obama finds the right answers as it is that he asks the right questions. And, by surrounding himself with an intelligent and capable team helmed by Joe Biden, Hillary Clinton and consigliere Rahm Emanuel, one that is unafraid of constructively criticizing their leader’s decisions, Barack Obama is ensuring that he does. Whatever he may or may not actually accomplish, by asking the right questions, Obama is already light years ahead of the detachment, distraction and denial that has permeated the White House for the past decade.

Sitting here on a quiet, unusually cold Sunday night while brushing up on my resume and pondering job prospects, I took a break to youtube around to watch some old boxing clips (Ali, Roy Jones Jr) out of boredom, and chanced upon a David Beckham adidas advertisement from a year or two ago…

I know it’s kind of cheesy to draw inspiration from a commercial, but one little line by Golden Balls from that ad embodies the attitude that we as a… culture, a society and a global economy in such dire need of hope should adopt right now:

“You will go through tough times… it’s about coming through, though.”

Thank you, David. Now… back to updating my resume.

A friend showed this to me earlier this night to “cheer me up”.

Watch and be sickened.

If this proudly vehement me-first attitude is really what people are showing in the midst of the worst recession in a century – when that very same attitude undoubtedly, significantly contributed to this very situation – then we are in dire straits indeed.

“This is America”.

But, as the Chicago Tribune’s Phil Rosenthal has written (having beaten me to the punch, not that this humble blogger even has a punch as much as a teeny featherweight jab), this more likely than not is merely Rick Santelli’s get-famous-and-rich-quick scheme of being as audacious and attention grabbing as he can possibly be… and then cashing in on his 15 minutes of fame, either by pitching a book to like-minded Maycomb lynch mob types, or by using his clever little video as a job interview for a Fox News tv slot.

In other words, he’s Britney showing her genitalia to the world right now.

Clap clap clap clap clap.

Have fun with your whored out money, Rick.

With Barack’s recent successful visit to Ottawa this past Thursday marking a major step forward for relations between Canada and our southern brethren – which over the past half-decade had turned lukewarm since former PM Jean Chretien’s ballsy opposition of the Iraq invasion, not to mention driving news agencies like CBC giddy with excitement, and causing a country-wide pilgrimage to Ottawa to herald his arrival… it’s probably an apt time to share this new video by the ridiculously creative (and attractive) Obama girl of her playing Wii Sports with Obama, the Clintons, and of course, W.

The video is surprisingly spot on, making fun of Obama’s uber-competitive nature as well as Bill’s uh, charm.

(as posted on the Compass Underground blog)

Exactly that – some explaining to do is what I’ve got. Thanks to my very prolonged absence from this.

And, breaking my recent tradition of posts where I’ve had a point to make, I’ve gone back to my roots of writing on this blog in the wee small hours of the morning, filled with caffeine and alcohol and adrenaline…

Only that my caffeine / alcohol / adrenaline nights of the past were usually the result of a late night beer-fueled Champions League soccer match at an outdoor bar somewhere, anywhere in the cool Singapore night. And that tonight’s caffeine / alcohol comes from the simultaneous chugging of a 2nd Cup large tea and a Labatt’s Blue pilsner, necessitated by the concurrent need to be awake and yet destress from a rushed fixed income assignment. My adrenaline comes from having just finished that cursed assignment. How times change indeed.

Well, first of all, the explanation: I kinda stayed away from this blog for a strange reason lately. I’ve been waiting for the results of my CFA Level One exam which I took in December, and I somehow felt that writing about my experience would jinx it. I’m really happy to say that I passed it, with much encouragement by all my friends and family, and a lot of help from my buddy Sam. This is honestly the toughest academic hurdle I’ve had to overcome since my GCE O Levels. But I passed it! And no more fear of jinxing anything, either.

Since I missed out on it, happy new year AND Chinese new year to everyone. Merry Christmas and happy Hanukkah, too. Hope everyone enjoyed the festivities, and spent some quality time with their families and loved ones. And Obama; a fortnight ago, the world received her king. If anyone can bring some order to this economic / political / social mess, he can.

The underlying feeling I’ve, well, felt since senior year began has been a funny sense of poignancy. It isn’t the jaded “senioritis” people speak of that I feel, no, not really; more like a profound sense of finality and with that, a renewed sense of taking my good friends and family and everything I’ve held dear with more seriousness. And this feeling has somehow never been as pronounced as it has since the December exams ended. Not quite the overwhelming sadness I once felt when I had to move from my hometown for the first time, nor is this feeling quite like that when I finished my 2-ish years of national service, emptied my locker, bade my Officer Commanding and Sergeant-Major goodbye and dragged my hulking duffel bag off to the camp gates for the last time.

I truly can’t put it to words now, but hopefully between these lines, I’ve injected some of that emotion into this, enough of it so that I can come back months from now and read this post and remember that feeling. Heh.

All right. Hours until I have to wake up for class I can count on the fingers of one hand. That’s my cue to call it a day for real, though rambling like this with all those uh chemicals flowing through me truly is nostalgic.

Good night, everyone. This was fun. I’ll be back here soon, I promise.

Joel

This year I’ve had the opportunity to study in a class called Globalization and Capital Markets: Political Economy and Investment Strategy at the University of Toronto, under a trio of the most brilliant minds I have ever had the joy of learning from, namely Alan Alexandroff, Jim de Wilde and Jonathan Hausman.

A few weeks ago I wrote a short memorandum for this class, outlining the role of China in both the short term and long term in restoring order to the global economy. I discuss how and why China has to play a role in the immediate future, as well as the obstacles that China and the US have to overcome in allowing China to lend a hand to help revive the US economy. I also explore the longer term fundamental changes to the global financial system, including the end of today’s too-convenient vendor-financing deadly cycle between the US and the world’s factory, as well as the crucial need for China to step up to the fore as a consumer base and responsible leader of the developing world.

Since I got a decent grade for the paper, and more importantly, since I learned quite a bit when I was researching for and writing it, I’ve decided to post the document online at the following address:

The Role of China in Restructuring the Global Financial System, University of Toronto RSM413 memorandum, October 21 2008.

Hopefully someone out there finds this useful and informative, in a non-plagiarizing kind of way. Enjoy.

Breaking my self-imposed exile for a good reason and a quick post.

So today I walk into the neighbourhood LCBO (liquor store) at Bloor West Village, Toronto to buy a bottle of wine as a gift for a good friend of mine’s birthday dinner, which I’m a bit too busy to stay at for long but intended to drop by with gift in hand, send my well wishes and say hi to all my friends.

I step into the liquor store, one I’m unfamiliar with since I only moved to this neighbourhood 2 summers ago, and am immediately greeted by the eyes of an elderly blonde lady at the counter. And in her stare I saw something I had never felt before in my life – a mix of distrust and disapproval and distaste, a “get out of my store” look.

At the time I didn’t really understand these feelings, but I felt a great unease as I walked around looking for a bottle of red wine for my friend. The woman was staring at me with those same strangely disapproving eyes the entire time, something I noticed every time I looked over my shoulder at the counter. After a few minutes of this uneasiness, with my mood turning darker by the minute – even though the reason behind this still escaped me at the time – I gave up looking for the wine and walked toward the exit.

Now, as I walked past the counter toward the entrance of the store, the woman, with those same judging eyes, suddenly asked me if she could help me with anything. Don’t you ask people that when they enter your store, not when they already have a hand outstretched to push open the door and step outside? Slightly taken aback, I tried to smile, politely declined and thanked her and left for the subway station.

. . .

Now, I’m not a fool. I’m not a SNAG either, but I’m pretty perceptive. I can tell what is just plain bad service, and what is, well, quite a bit worse. I’ve waited on tables for a month at a classy Orchard Road cafe (glitzy shopping district in Singapore) myself. I can tell when the resident coffee guy at my college’s 2nd Cup is having a bad day and gets a bit gruff, but since he’s all warm smiles and excessively polite (even by Canadian standards) 95% of the time, it doesn’t bother me one bit. But the LCBO lady’s lack of service went beyond a bad mood. It was prejudice.

And you know what, I know this for a fact now. Because it was so strong, so evident. Because she barely tried to hide it. Because in my 6 years of living in Canada, despite being one of probably only two or three dozen Asian kids at my high school, I have been lucky enough to have never felt it so strongly – so strongly that I didn’t understand at the time what it is I was feeling.

Why did she only talk to me, all of a sudden, as I moved toward the exit? Instead of offering her help (or even greeting me) the whole time I was in the store, or when I had just entered? Was it to read my face, gauge the tone of my voice in my reaction to see if I had something to hide? I honestly do not know, and can only guess, because as I’ve said, being prejudiced against is something I am very thankful to God that I’m not used to.

What about me could it be that brought that reaction from that woman? I wasn’t wearing over-sized jeans, I have no tattoos, I didn’t have a hoodie or beanie pulled over my face as I entered the store. I didn’t avoid eye contact, and in fact had tried to make eye contact and smile at the woman when I entered – before my eyes met that disdainful stare, of course. I don’t do the goth look or the grunge rock’n'roll look or the sk8t3r b0i, too. My fashion sense, sadly, is preppy and quite close to these Budweiser “What are you doing?” dudes’. I always have short, cropped hair (a fashion-transcending relic from my army days) and today I gelled it up to be tidier. I was actually more well dressed than I usually am, and was wearing a long-sleeved Abercrombie shirt with a brown corduroy blazer. I had shaved just before leaving the house, too, except for my sideburns which I’m leaving a bit longer than usual, just for fun. I was wearing nice brown sneakers which I had bought last Christmas from Montreal. I didn’t have my earphones or sunglasses on. I was in a pretty good mood (with the weekend finally here) and had a little hop to my step. I also wasn’t coughing or anything, and had been feeling great despite my recent lack of sleep due to the lovely 14 degree weather.

By all accounts, I think I looked, dressed and acted rather presentably today. So whatever the source of her prejudice, it had nothing to do with the way I was dressed. Nor did it have anything to do with the way I carried myself, since she was giving me that untrusting look the second I stepped into her store. Whatever the source of her prejudice, I can only guess, and can’t say for certain.

But it wasn’t about how I was dressed. Or about how I was behaving. Or about my religion, or my accent.

What disturbs me is how someone working in the service industry can continue to behave like she does in such a generally warm, welcoming, multi-chromatic and multicultural city like Toronto, in a neighbourhood like mine where any two people on the street of the same religion or skin tone would likely have an entirely different accent.

. . .

I ended up not going to my friend’s birthday dinner. I was out of sorts, stammering and not being coherent at my project meeting this afternoon, too, because this strange feeling has been eating away at my subconscious the entire time. I also turned down another friend’s offer to go hang out later tonight, even though I otherwise would’ve loved to, being sorely in need of a break from my work. I just somehow don’t have the mood for any of this now.

I am confident in the person that I am, with the colour of my skin, the sound of my voice. I am a decent student in a competitive program at a good university. I have served as a sergeant and have trained and been responsible for the welfare of men years older than me. I have dramatically messed up in front of 200 guests at a school event I was organizing, so nothing can faze me very much beyond this point. At the same time, I am very thankful to my family for their omnipresent support, to both my home country Singapore and adopted home Toronto for being safe, eclectic and very well-run societies. And, I carry myself every day with that mix of confidence in myself and consummate gratitude to those who have made my life what it is today.

So to unfathomably be prejudiced against today and so explicitly unwelcome and disliked by someone for no logical reason is alien and offensive to me, and disturbs me still.

I’m going to be hella busy for the rest of the school term with my academic work, so I doubt I’ll post anything else substantial til mid December. I’m taking a break right now from my work to write about something that bothers me, and has been bothering me since the start of the summer.

The Lakers. Yes again.

Specifically, I’d like to write about the play that broke my heart as a Laker fan those months back: Ray Allen’s game-winning layup on Sasha Vujacic in Game 4 of the NBA Finals.

When that play happened, I yelled at the TV. I bit my lip so hard it bled. I was slamming my fists on my bed nearby.

What pissed me off so much? It wasn’t Sasha’s fault. He isn’t the fastest defender, and he’s a little white guy (okay, he’s got a coupla inches on me but still). But he tries hard. How do you guard Jesus who’s iso-ing on you? You can’t give him space with the game on the line, so Sasha moves forward to get in his face. And Ray blows by him for the open layup. No fault of Sasha.

What pissed me off was the body language of the rest of the Lakers. The casual fan, the shoots-hoops-for-fun-on-the-weekend baller won’t see it. That was the most horrible defense I have ever, ever seen in my life. It was really, really obvious that the Celtics were gonna isolate Ray on Sasha, to capitalize on Ray’s superior speed and experience. So they run the play. And Ray beats Sasha on the dribble.

Watching Sasha sitting upset on the bench afterward really moved me. Yes, Sasha. Cry. Slam your hands disconsolately. He was upset at himself, beating himself up for letting Ray beat him. But he shouldn’t. He tried his best and his emotional outburst showed how much pride he put in playing those last few seconds of that game… much, much more than I can say for the other Lakers standing on the court at the time.

What do the other Lakers do when Sasha gets beat? Watch the video.

Vladimir Rad-f*cking-manovic is standing there watching as Ray drives unmolested to the hoop. He doesn’t even move his feet to help out. He just watches. He was the “first line of defense”; he could’ve stepped in for the charge, or at least stick out a hand or leg to try and steal or impede or bump or even trip Ray. But no. He stands there watching.

Pau? Pau, standing baseline with the best view of the situation and thus having the most time to react, decides to stick to his man until the last minute, when he half-heartedly takes a cringe-inducing effeminate one-legged hop with his hands outstretched to try and stop Ray. That wouldn’t even be good defense in an Under-14 girls game.

Fisher wasn’t TOO bad. Seeing the play unfold, he sagged off his guy in anticipation of Ray’s drive. But he was on the wrong side of the court – yet ironically came closest to helping out on D.

And lastly, my man Kobe. I don’t care if Phil had drawn out a box-and-one on Paul Pierce, and had told Kobe to stick to PP no matter what. Because PP, the cold-blooded assassin that he is, is a lot less dangerous 40 feet away from the hoop than Ray Allen is shooting an uncontested layup. Kobe stands there outside the 3-point line, looking almost nonchalantly as Sasha got beat. Not even the semblance of shifting his feet a BIT closer.

…

So (fellow?) Laker fans out there, tell me. Is this championship defense? Do championship contenders abandon their teammate, down 3 with 27 seconds left in the biggest game of the season on their HOME COURT? Is this the best you have to show, guys? Where was the collapsing help defense? Where was their PRIDE???

I’m sorry if I’m getting too emotional about this. But to anyone who says that the Lakers lost because of inexperience – bullshit. That play summed it all up. It wasn’t Sasha’s fault, it was everybody else’s. Kobe and Pau and f*cking Radmanovic’s. It wasn’t about inexperience. It was about pride. This was not the pride of champions, not the pride of contenders, even.

I’ll tell you something. Rick Fox and Robert Horry and Ron Harper and Brian Shaw and Mark bloody Madsen would have collapsed on D on that play. Lindsey Hunter and Devean George would’ve. Purple-and-gold Shaq would’ve fouled the sh*t out of Ray. That’s the difference between this Laker team and the Dynasty ones.

…

Maybe I’m being too much of a hard ass on them.

I had a heck of a basketball coach in secondary school, a coach who ran a team the same way Larry Brown ran his championship Pistons, and, yes, taught us to play basketball “the right way”. I remember once during a friendly match on our home court, when we did something just as shameful as that Laker defensive play, he called a timeout right away.

The opposing team went to their bench to huddle around the coach. And our team? With a yell of “BASELINE!” the 5 players on the court – me included – did suicide runs until the timeout ended, in front of dozens of other students watching from the nearby canteen, as well as the opposing team who watched in horror with their mouths agape. By the time the timeout was over, when the opposing team was rested and waiting for us on court, my guys and I were on the verge of puking. That greatly embarrassed us, but it emphasized a hard lesson – to play with pride, if nothing else, and to never quit on our teammates.

…

I’m probably reading too much into one play. I hope I am. But that play showed me the true face of this version of the Laker team: they’ll blow you out, score hundreds of points on you during the regular season. They’re already doing it this season. But when the chips are down, 80-something games from now in the NBA finals, will they quit on their teammate again when it matters most?

*The author of this post was sitting in his chair crying disconsolately as he wrote this. When his mother came up to bring him some tea, he bitterly waved her away and slammed his hand on a nearby chair. He then looked up to the heavens in despair, and threw a towel on his face in shame.*