The Boys Club

I was at Orchid Country Club earlier this afternoon. Sitting at the café overlooking the vast stretch of green in front with the wind blowing my hair off my face was actually a wonderful sensation. How I missed such a simple enjoyment. Well, simple because there wasn’t much fanfare to it – just the company of a friend and the serenity of the ambience.

Then, it wasn’t that simple because of the time I was there which made it not quite possible those who are bound by the usual working hours. And it wasn’t so simple because I had stayed home (besides those trips to the doctor) for more than 2 weeks as I had been sick. So, I am very thankful.

The café was pretty quiet with only less than a handful of patrons, until around 4pm when the golfers began streaming in by small groups. What made this whole entourage special were two particular groups. They looked very young, and one would wonder their presence there.

From the back of their T-shirts, I knew they came from two of the top-most institution in Singapore: Raffles Institution (RI) and Anglo-Chinese School (ACS).

RI students had the word “Team Raffles” at the back of their white polo t-shirts while ACS merely had their logo and school name printed proudly on the surface of their navy blue shirts.

The RI guys were still happily chatting and dining away when I left, but the ACS guys left and went to the greens much earlier. I thought there must be some school golf tournament that explained their reason for appearing at the golf clubhouse, but the big contrast in the number of people from each school cast some doubts on my early conclusion.

Anyway, what struck me with these guys weren’t the T-shirts, the reason for their presence or the high sound level they produced. Rather, it was the camaraderie that brought back nice nostalgic feelings to me.

I remembered the time when I was a member of St. Johns Ambulance Brigade in my secondary school. I was part of the team to compete in the annual national foot drill competition. While all our school mates were living the high life during the holidays, I was with my squad sweating, marching, stamping our feet and bleeding on our school grounds. 

While those days were real torture, yet they were the highlights of my secondary school life. It was during those times that we endured punishment as a team, practised non-stop to get the best chemistry a squad could have so that when we all stamp our feet, we only produced one, yet solid, loud and uniformed bang.

It had to be, and it was the sound of a champion bang. We did it.

It was during then that friendships were formed. Not ordinary ones, but those that would stand the test of time and grow as we age.

I guess those boys must have the same kind of bonding.

I know how buddies bond and gel while serving NS, and they were each other’s strength when things get really tough. I also know that buddies continue to be buddies long after they had ORD, married and have children. I also know that when they become fathers, they still can’t resist the temptation to speak or boast about how one of them had carried the other on his back as they down gallons of beer on a Friday night before they returned home to baby sit their first born.
Such bonding is too precious, and I could see how these guys are going to bring them up when they are no longer in ACS, or RI, or any institution for the matter.

Amidst all these highs, a unique tingling sensation crept up inside me as I looked upon the ACS guys leaving as a group. As they chatted with each other, they seemed to be oblivious to the others. They looked like they had a great unspoken chemistry among them. And I could see how straight they walked, an obvious sign that they were proud to be in that T-shirt.

It signified their belonging, their presence. It seemed to scream lots about them as a person, a student, a youth in our nation and a young guy full of dreams. That energy hit me. I could feel they were proud and they all had a common identity – the student of ACS.

Do you have an identity when you are in your specific platoon in the army? What do you see yourself as?

A winner, or a loser?

A leader, or a victim?

As I left the café, I couldn’t help to turn around and take one more look at the few tables occupied by the RI guys. Boy, do I miss that good ole’ days…