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The chronicles of two Portlanders in Singapore

A wave of red banners has swept the city, urging on athletes from Singapore.
Super Sports 1 is now playing every NBA game.
The sound of ten pins falling echoes through my ears like cascade of fortune.
ESPN headlines show new fuckery and foul dealings of FIFA.

Isn’t June supposed to be the slow month for sports?

The 28th SEA (South-East Asian) Games have started and are being hosted right here in town.  While no one would confuse the competition for the Olympics, there is amazing competition to behold, especially in the swimming center where a 18 year old from Vietnam is crushing all comers, setting four games records in 5 events.  The insane thing to note is that her times, while easily qualifying for Rio, would not earn her a lane at the final heat in any of her events.  But it’s still fun to see someone dominate.  Tickets of course were out of the question – swimming is a sport where Singapore is supposed to dominate this year, and is, thus far, earning 12 medals so far, 5 of them gold.

We were able to get tickets to basketball, which we’ll be watching this upcoming weekend.  I assume, that after a week of watching Steph Curry and LeBron James do their thing, that it too will pale in comparison to the world’s best, but that’s hardly the point, is it?  Just getting out, and rooting for our adopted home; this is what endeared us to Portland – will it do likewise for the Lion City?

Tricia was able to get us tickets to the table tennis finals tonight, however, Beverly’s cold has come back for a go at me and annihilated me this past weekend.  I didn’t think it wise to go out and scream with 20,000 others over a game I’m not sure I can even follow, physically, I mean.  Have you watched top-mark ping players?  It’s easier to follow a Serena Williams serve.

Friday night ended with the sore throat and low feeling of an oncoming cold, but it began with a trip to the American Club, jeans and sneakers, to bowl and drink beer/eat pizza with the Singapore Overbooked Men’s Association, a group I’ve fallen in with despite their love of playing tennis.  We had a “boy’s night out” the week prior for martinis and steak sandwiches, but this time the spouses1read: breadwinners joined in the fun.  Some of them, at least.  Some opted just for the beer and pizza, but those that bowled, including my lovely bride, rolled with the guys without issue.  Let’s face it, none of us there were going to be holding Donny’s open spot down2mark it, Dude..  Still, after one warm up game and several cups of Tiger, the strikes started to drop liberally, which of course led to more beer drinking.

I thought perhaps it wasn’t a cold at first but rather something fixed with a lot of prata and water.

I did make the smart move that night, though.  On the way to the exit in the American Club is a sport bar whose walls are covered with pennants and banners from nearly every college in the country.  We poked our head in there to find UCSB and CalPoly SLO3whose banner was smaller than that of Pomona’s.  Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot. and sensibly declined the final final.  Considering how bad this cold hit, wisdom apparently does come to us all.

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