Training day

Winnie the Pooh has been on my window for so long that his red shirt is no longer. He has also contracted pox of some kind in recent times -- for the life of me I cannot figure out what those brown spots are.

***

Training sessions in JC -- whilst always immensely enjoyable -- was often marred by various field restrictions. The field conditions, for one, were nothing short of embarrassing; when you run into a pothole at full speed, expect your ligaments to die, is the moral of the story. We also had to share it with the softball team (who trained every day), so apart from running and full speed and avoiding potholes (which many of us did rather unsuccessfully), we also had to dodge (rock-hard) softballs.

The upside to all of this is that there was another field. I heard that they imported the grass from Korea; I don't know how true that is, but I do know that they have timed sprinklers to keep the field in tip-top condition. And it really was perfect, the field.

The catch? Only the boys could use the field. And the only time we got to step onto it was when we were playing with the boys. Equal rights? I think not.

So it was this one fateful afternoon that we were there for a friendly match. With the boys. So we could use the nice field. The whistle was blown. Play was started. Touches were flying in. Plays were called and executed (some not so successfully). When all of a sudden, with the ball in our possession, the boys raced in unison towards the touchline.

My team-mates and I looked at each other in bewilderment. Had the game ended? Or did they all decide to sub out at the same time? Do we go on? Run towards the try-line and score with no opposition?

We watched in bemusement as they ran up to an elderly man, and greeted him with a bow.

My coach -- after speaking with the boys' coach -- ran onto the field and explained, trying hard to contain her laughter: "Um, they have this rule: that if they see any teacher, they have to stop everything and greet them."

In the middle of the game? Apparently. Or they thought that playing with girls didn't count. Either way, they saw nothing wrong.

To laugh or to cry -- that is the question.