Champions

You can say anything you want. But you have to say we were champions. You can say anything you want. But you can't call us losers. You can say anything you want. But in the end, we were the last men standing. We were the winners.

The trophy

I remember quite vividly. The year was 2000. The venue was Albert Park. The occasion? Trinity College Basketball Tournament. One of the highlights of my still short sporting career.

We started off down by one man. We ended up winning it all. Big Ben, grimacing in pain as he got up from the floor with his twisted ankle, giving it all he had, in the final. Stan, with his wild hair flying, knocking down shot after shot, and sticking his middle finger into the opposition after. Michael, with his fierce disposition, flying downcourt while screaming DEFENSE! Darren, neutralizing their best player, and driving fear into the enemies' hearts. Richard, and his game-closing layups. Eugene, gobbling up every fucking rebound. Me, darting around, getting assists and pushing the ball on the break. All in black, cut off sleeved shirts and headbands, intimidating the hell outta the enemy.

Satisfaction indeed, when we held the trophy aloft. And when some immature S'porean army wannabe messed with Eugene, how our entire team was up in arms and normally placid Michael unleashed a stream of Cantonese profanities while throwing off his warm up jacket ready to wade into the fray. And Stan saying Fuck You each time he nailed another jumper. And Darren in his MJ imitation dropping in shot after shot. And Eugene wrapping his arms around me telling me to calm down and ignore the blatant fouls and testicle shots and then dropping the guy flat on the floor who did it to me the next time he challenged Eugene. And the celebratory dinner where Big Ben showed up in crutches.

The best part was how we had the most boisterous, biggest, international, vocal and prettiest fans. Our fan crowd was amazing. We held one team to.. get this... zero points.

I would go into battle with them again anyday.