12th May 2007, 10amApril to June '07 - many Singaporeans are visiting the National Stadium for perhaps the 1st or 2nd time in their life, sadly because the grand old dame will be torn down once all the goodbyes are said. And of course, we normally don't cherish what we have till she (normally it's a she in such cases) is going or gone.
Having served us well for decades, the stadium will be torn down for a new one as part of the proposed sports hub. The new stadium design certainly look impressive; part of it opens to the waterfront, where water can be let in to fill the stadium for water events. We'll no doubt be eagerly anticipating its completion in years to come. But for now, we explore the stadium, which for most, should be the last time ever.
Me, Alda and Yanqing (Zhenhan succumbed to drinks on the previous night while John went wind surfing) joined the free stadium tour which is organised by the Singapore Sports Council as part of the
closing down celebrations. On that Saturday morning we met at the scheduled 10 am and joined about 20 others in a little tour group, led by one of the SSC staff. However, scorching hot day it was and not the most suitable for photography. I saw several DSLR cameras, but not many real photographers. I had wanted to go down in the early morning but didn't have time in the end.
I started the tour by tripping over one of the many stairs at the West Entrance. My extraordinary dexterity however meant that I instinctively stuck out a hand to stop myself from falling and looking like a fool. My big right toe kinda hurts though. The pain later spread to my foot and then to my right knee, but not for long.
Our tour group consists of mainly families who stupidly brought their young brats along. As if they will remember anything about the stadium. While the tour leader tried to informed us on various nuggets about the stadium along the way, the brats made noises non-stop and shut out the commentary half of the time. One of them eventually wilted under the hot sun and puked. The mother encouraged her to do it in the middle of the grandstand pavement. Once done, they walked off and rejoined the merry noise making, leaving the puke to dry up. I suppose this is how they do things at home.
Places we visited include the VIP lounge, interview room, sports science room, rehab room, sports museum, caulderon and floodlight towers, most of which are normally out of bound to the public. I was slightly disappointed at the floodlight towers though, the itinerary which I was looking forward the most to. I had imagined they would let us climb all the way up to the top and catch the possibly magnificent view. Instead, we were offered a peep through the opened door and that's it. The only thing I could see in the dingy interior were electrical boxes, wires and a wall ladder that led into the darkness. Maybe without the brats...
The whole tour took a good 2 hours and included a brief talk by Mr C. Kunalan, the former national sprint champion whom I had frequently heard and read about. Didn't realise that he is actually a professor lecturing at NIE. Thankfully he's quite humourous. Nothing else would stand a chance under the temperature that morning.
The National Stadium meant a lot to different groups of Singaporeans. The purpose of building it back in 1965 was to foster community spirit and to build a national identity amidst the ethnic, cultural and racial differences.
In present days, she touches my heart in the way that I guess only fellow Die Hard Fans would understand. I missed the halcyon Malaysia Cup days in the early '90s because I was still a kid then and no one brought me to the stadium. I had to settle for live radio commentaries and the occasional telecast on TV. 17th April 1994, I remember that day clearly in my head.
When I got older, I made up for it by attending most of the football matches that Singapore played at home. I still keep all the ticket stubs in a little Mauna Loa Honey Roasted Macadamia Nuts tin box. My most memorable match was probably the Asian Cup or World Cup qualifier against Bahrain a few years back. Singapore needed a win to qualify. The opponents were a goal up and we struggled to get past them, tried as we did. Despite their superiority on the pitch, the team of middle-eastern cheats started time wasting with more than 20 minutes of the game to go. The crowd was incensed. Furious. The trickeries of time wasting that they employed would put cristiano ronaldo to shame, even superior to the comical Rivaldo during World Cup '02 who clutched his face in agony after the ball gently struck his leg.
Singapore fans reacted in a way I had never seen before, shouting and cursing as one. That was Team Singapore, if I may borrow the present day term, at its united best. Coins were thrown and bottles flung in a mad cacophony. Rubbish strewn the pitch. Police had to intervene, so did Nazri Nasri, the Lions captain then. The Bahrain team bus was waylaid by lions and had to be escorted out. Kallang certainly roared that eventful night.
At the end of the tour, we went across the tracks and onto the pitch. Not exactly hallowed turf but still the green grass upon which I had cheered and cursed for a decade.
We lingered on for a while more on the pitch, the stadium alternating between cool breeze and sunlight, absorbed in her peace, her final days before the demolition begins..
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