black white black white green

I'm documenting parts of my life, illustrated by awards that I've won in my 26 years. Could I be less narcissistic and tell the story without flaunting my shimmies? Heck yes but where's the attention-seeking fun in that?

Here's part three of the series.

Read till the end; I promise the story's quite good this time.

We've mostly all tried our hands and failed at several chess games before. At least I did. My dad was one to introduce me to all sorts of chess games. There was Chinese Chess which I was so horrible at I never beat anyone at school before. Chinese Checkers which I often played with and celebrated victory over myself from time to time. Weiqi that took way too long for anyone else to want to play with me. Checkers and Animal Chess that I used to play with my mom over a basket of chicken wings and a bottle of red wine between us, every night for a couple of months.

For the benefit of those who've never played or don't recall Animal Chess:

Then there was Othello. Or as some of you might know it, Reversi.

I started with a little Popular bookstore board and played with my dad. Soon, while everyone else was playing this:

I was off playing Internet Reversi instead. Ok, I'm a 90s kid and I played 3D Pinball Space Cadet too. But I probably did spend more time playing IR. 

"Racist!"

The one thing I remember about IR was that it didn't have a normal chat system. You could only communicate using a list of courteous responses like "Hi, how are you?", "That was a great move!" or "Thanks for the game". Presumably it was to cut out verbal abuse and irritation, but retards will be retards and they still found ways around it like chatting "It's your turn" immediately after they make their move and do it repeatedly, non-stop until you do make your move. Classy.

I used to blaze opponents in the "expert" difficulty setting and felt pretty proud about myself for years. Then during one training back in hall, we whipped out someone's old Windows XP laptop to play IR on expert mode. Apparently it was to make sure we knew how to deal with noobs like those on IR when we went for tournament. The famous Othello adage holds: A minute to learn, a lifetime to master.

I got my real taste of Othello when I joined Hall 3. As aforementioned, my IR-acquired skills were largely IRrelevant (sorry). I'm thankful I landed in probably one of the three halls in NTU that had good Othello training. Slowly, I did get good at the game. 

We won 3 golds in the 4 years I was there, each with it's own story.

The first one was really, really dramatic. We lost our very first match and had to fight tooth and nail every other game to qualify for the semis. We did, but in losing the first match, we had to play tournament favourites Hall 9, regarded as one of the strongest teams ever to grace NTU. 

My captain won, another teammate pulled off the surprise of the year and won his game while two us us lost ours. It was left to the other senior after almost an hour of game time. He eventually drew 32-32 with his opponent and both halls were at a stalemate. After some deliberation by the officials, it emerged that in a game of 320 seeds across 5 tables, we had won by a seed count of 8. All five of us played a part; each one of us literally made it count. We went through to the final and then won it narrowly as well. That day on, Hall 3 Othello always learned to do our best, even when we're losing.

I don't remember much of the second gold because I was a peripheral figure in our then dream team. I was, however a main figure in the chasing of the third. Armed with an experience of 10000 online games (excluding IR, of course), I was well known for sweeping away opponents while playing with my balls.

My baoding balls of course. I rotated this pair in my hands while I was playing just for the heck of it and was soon referred to as the ball guy from Hall 3. I won all 9 games to the gold. Felt awesome.

(left hand playing with balls under the table... baoding style)

I guess the greatest story belongs to my 4th year, which, by now you know - we didn't win. We lost our very first match and had to fight tooth and nail every other game to qualify for the semis. We did, but in losing the first match, we had to play tournament favourites Hall 9. 

My captain, who pulled off that surprise of the three years ago, won. Another teammate pulled of the surprise of the year. The other two juniors lost. It was left to the other senior to seal the win. The ball guy from Hall 3. 

It was, oddly, though auspiciously familiar.

But this time, he didn't win and he didn't draw. I lost 28-36 to a really good player, and with it, our place in the finals. I did win the last 7 matches to take us this far, but I fell when the team needed me the most. 

It wasn't for lack of trying, the pressure of responsibility or a silly mistake during the game. I was just simply not good enough. But as with every time I step on the track, get on the pool starting block, putting on my waterpolo cap, prepare to dance or sing onstage or just about everything else. I knew there wasn't much more I could do. That's why I'm always calm after defeat; if I am down, it is because the other person deserves to beat me - I gave all there was to give and there is nothing more I can put in beforehand.

Never waste a future opportunity by doing not enough. You'll live with the regret that you could have done more. If you try and try and still fall short, then you know for sure that it was beyond you. Then you can move on without looking back. #deepsiol