JAN 9 — I read a post early this week on Facebook. While the post appeared informative, the comments from some readers left me completely disheartened.

It was stupid, damning and more importantly, racist.

Some remarks were so racist it made my blood boil. I was seething with anger when I realised how insensitive certain quarters could be.

Social media allows, and in some ways, support freedom of thought and speech. This, unfortunately, also means pea-brained individuals are now allowed to post idiotic remarks wherever and whenever they feel the sordid need to.

I thought about my teammates, back in the day. We were not all of the same faith. We came from different parts of the country and had dissimilar backgrounds. We never always saw eye to eye and arguments were pretty common amongst players in the team.

But we respected each other. We realised on the hockey field then, what a lot of narrow-minded bigots don’t, quite completely, grasp now.

Games, back in the day, weren’t walks in the park. They were hard and rough. Players get hurt all the time. God never saw fit to give Malaysians size and strength so we had to use speed, skill and a whole lot of teamwork to battle the giants of Europe and Oceania.

We saw ourselves as soldiers, fighting for the glory of 28 million people back home. We wore the Jalur Gemilang on our chest with pride. We played every game with one clear intention: Win for our country and her people.

Like I said, the games were rough and injuries were expected. We would usually sit in the changing room after matches to compare wounds. We would discuss the manner in which it was acquired, the length and depth of each wound and how — regardless of how painful it ACTUALLY was — we saw no reason to have it treated.

“That looks bad, bro.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Probably a few broken bones and a 3-inch deep gash, but I’ll be alright. Nothing to worry about. Can’t wait for the next game.”

“You sure you don’t want to get a doctor to look at it?”

“Nope. What do they know? Glorified pharmacists.”

OK. OK… Completely exaggerated but you get what I’m saying. Pain was a sign of weakness. No one wanted to appear weak.

While our wounds came in different shapes and sizes, we all did one thing in common…we bled red.

And we bled for the same purpose.

I believe there is divinity in sport. It brings people together and cultivates tolerance and respect, values that are rapidly dwindling in present day society. It allows no space for bigotry and prejudice. It requires focus and discipline. It promotes acceptance.

It teaches patience.

It is easy to cause a stir. It requires nothing but simple insensitivity and thoughtlessness to evoke unfounded partiality and hatred. I have but one thing to say to these people, people who obviously have time aplenty but a serious lack of compassion… and grey matter.

Pick up a damn sport!

* This is the personal opinion of the writer and does not necessarily represent the views of The Malay Mail Online.