...Happily (Ever After)

*This post was written by fellow Frontliner Kew Pei Li, on her personal experience in the Z'liners-PFA Floorball Challenge: Part 2

It rained that evening and all I wanted was some hippo time to wallow alone.

In fairytales just when things cannot get uglier in the dark of night, the first stroke of dawn sounds and light breaks through. (No fairy godmothers here, thank you.)

For me, it started that very Saturday with Liverpool's win over Man United, but the less said the better, in view of Coach Jason's allegiances. Then the next Saturday, this time with play open to both male and female, I didn't expect much, not with Kuan Yang and Jason organizing and not playing. Didn't expect to pass the group stage, even.

But to reach the finals and win the silver?

Unbelievable.

For the first game I felt like I had iron weights tied to my feet. The usual springs were gone and I was leaden-footed. A goalless draw, and a scrappy game at the most, but fair enough, allowance given for this warm-up match.

Then Megan, though not playing, spoke once only: "Just tell yourself to keep on running."

There was tiny belief when we started off. It grew as we qualified; got bigger as we entered the semi's and reached its peak when we went ahead in the final.

Less than four minutes for Contact Army to save the world.

They did, anyway, and in the end it was about three seasoned penalty-takers against three rookies. All effort put in by Sharron, magnificent so far, could not stop one shot from creeping in. And of all people to take the penalty that would decide whether they struck gold or not:

Me, who had never taken a penalty before until that day.

Huh.

At least it was on target.

So to recap, though Happily Ever After has its costs, this unbelievable run was worth it all: the disappointment the previous week, the broken stick (cruel irony, I'd just gotten the grip replaced the day before), the bruises and bumps gained.

...although I wish I were bigger. Like Sharron, at least. Then I wouldn't bounce off bigger players like Sherwynd and Uncle David or be blown over by the slightest gust of wind.

Experience is a great teacher. I've learnt a lot as team manager and player; that if I try to do too much I'd end up not doing anything well and feel very frustrated and disappointed. I enjoyed myself, in a way, but having said that, I probably won't volunteer at being team manager anytime soon. Leave the grunt work to the males and just be happy, ordinary Me.

No prince to carry me off, but I'll definitely live happy for a few days (ever after will only happen when I die) then get back to the grindstone.

Bet on it.