STI: When pep talks fail...

Jul 15, 2004

When pep talks fail...
by Loh Keng Fatt

IT HAS been a good June to introduce sporting heroes to kids.

The just-concluded Euro 2004 would have prompted many soccer-mad Dads to exhort their sons to become the next Milan Baros or Arjen Robben.

But the more astute parents would have cautioned them that it takes a lot of extra, extra time to get to the promised land, and not just in sports.

Whether you aim to be the next Sim Wong Hoo or just to beat that pesky super-achiever neighbour, it demands sacrifice and discipline.

A recent DVD on David Beckham is illuminating, documenting how the now-vilified midfielder worked so hard to get so good in Manchester United.

The footage went way back in time, with grainy images capturing a very young Beckham juggling balls deep into the twilight.

I told my sons, when we were watching the tape, that they cannot just dream about bending it like Beckham.

They have to work hard on finding time and steeling their resolve to score results.

'So practise doing your maths. The year-end finals are coming. You think the Arsenal team wins just by turning up on the field? Surely, the players must be training hard each day.

'If you get going, you will soon develop a certain momentum,' I reminded them about the need to fix a timetable to pace themselves.

It's true. You may hate, for instance, to wake up early to jog, but once the body gets used to it, it ironically craves just that routine to feel good throughout the day.

They say in sports, just as in life, that the ultimate reward really is in seeing how far you can go. Spoils, like money and medals, are the icing on the cake.

But teens do not necessarily buy all that noble pep talk from parents. That's when you need to give them someone credible to emulate.

In our house, we have two sporting heroes - one is an unusual candidate but I will get to him later.

The other, admittedly, is dear to the boys because he is their cousin.

You may have read about Stanley Tan. He has a law degree but has chosen instead to sail full-time.

He will represent Singapore in the laser class in next month's Olympics in Athens.

That sounds glamorous on the surface, but we know better. He has had to fight bureaucrats. He has had to live in a lonely planet of sorts, venturing solo to faraway Turkey or Germany to compete.

He spent time holed up in a rundown apartment in Sydney to prep up for the Olympic Games there.

We visited him in 2000 and took him to Chinatown a couple of times to eat 'normal'.

He was on a sailing stipend from the national association, so life was completely frugal and totally monastic in its intensity and dedication.

'Yeah, it's tough,' he told my sons. 'You get sunburnt, you fight the strong waves and wind. And no one watches you since you are far out in the water.'

My sons could relate to that, coming from someone not too much older than them. He has become, I suppose, their real-life Frodo.

The other humble hero my kids believe in is Smarty Jones.

Never heard of him? We first stumbled upon the American athlete in a small newspaper report and, intrigued by his name, began to keep track of his progress on the Net.

He was such an Ordinary Joe. This guy was so clumsy and ungainly in the early days that he even hit his head against a wooden post during practice.

Jones grew up in unfashionable surroundings in Pennsylvania, in the company of trainers who were not the most decorated in the land.

But the little guy refused to be beaten. He started out in small competitions and worked his way up to bigger and bigger headlines.

In May, he won in terrible mud conditions in a big Kentucky meet.

Next up was a major Maryland contest and, once again, he killed the competition.

'Now, he has the chance to score a hat-trick,' I told my sons about his next race in New York. Together with the Kentucky and Maryland events, they constitute a rare triple crown.

'Guess what, the police escorted him into town,' my younger son read from a web posting about Jones' arrival in New York for that appointment with destiny on June 5.

'Hey, even old women waved at him. And they say he is having a crowd reception that befits the US president,' my elder son read.

Everyone roots for a true hero.  I mean, how hard is it not to like Jones? He does not drink, does not party and does not throw tempers (okay, he once kicked his trainer).

He has no use for trash talk, but has a weakness for sweets.

On the night before June 5, we found it hard to sleep.

'Ten hours more to the event. Why is it not shown live on TV?' we complained.

On the morning we woke up, we rushed to the computer terminal.

Jones had come in second, very close behind the victor.

We were devastated. But I told my sons: 'True heroes move on. They don't find excuses. They don't need excuses.'

Smarty Jones - that great horse - is now back in training to gallop back to winning ways.

Somewhere in Greece, Stanley Tan, who did not win a medal in Sydney, is not giving up his dream either.

Here, we can't wait for the Olympics to start. But will the cameras track the sailors on the rough seas?