AUGUST 29 — It’s a saying in the Malaysian debate scene, when competing in international competitions.
Every occasion when one of our teams performs admirably in the inter-varsities, regardless of university name, the catchphrase is repeated by debaters young and old. Few know the origins.
This Merdeka needs Merdeka stories, and I’m offering one. They are a hell of a lot better than the depressing tales dominating the timelines, about our differences being absolute.
So, there was a younger version of me.
The millennium was still an infant in 2000. Britney Spears was also in infant gear.
It was days before New Year’s and the Worlds University Debating Championships were ongoing on campus grounds.
Stay on, stay on. It’s about debaters, not about debates.
The Glasgow University Student Union bar was in mayhem. After a day of debating, it was time for the International Boat Race. Before I raise expectations, there were no actual boats inside the premises, o(a)r water.
But it was decidedly international. There were Americans, English, South Africans, Australians, Kiwis, Canadians, Croatians and other sorts. And our cousins, the Singaporeans, gone home to be tucked into bed early. It takes proper rest to be uptight.
A “boat race” is a drinking relay, two teams outpacing each other over four half pints, a pint gulper in the middle, before reversing back to the start via the same number of half pints. Drinking is fun, until it’s a drinking competition, then friendships are cast aside in a vicious contest for bragging rights.
As the competition convenor was urging on participation over a raucous crowd it was conspicuous there were no mention or invites to Asian teams.
Being the consummate inclusivist I was insulted by the lack of interest in us, Asians. Actually, in assuming Malaysians can’t handle a bit of foam.
MMU only had five persons — four drinkers and a teetotaller. A team is five. No other Malaysian was inside the premises.
Bill, who just received his nickname days before, stepped up to compete. Signed up as “Malaysia A” and as most heroic acts are rewarded, we were consigned to the worst possible draw, Glasgow University on their home ground. Bill, Tubs, Garage, Animal and GG, against the home team in an unforgiving winter evening.
Half, half, half, half, full pint, half, half, half and a half. Empty mugs turned upside and spills measured.
Somehow, we got the better of them. And as we were throwing up respectively into the various trash bins placed for that very purpose, Animal exclaimed “You’ll never beat Malaysia.” The rest is debating folklore.
Of course, I’m not advocating binge-drinking on campuses; the real focus here is the lads’ willingness to sacrifice their guts to defend the honour of Malaysia. It also laid down the marker to the rest of the debating world that the Malaysians could compete on all fronts as equals. Nothing’s beneath us, or above us.
There’s heart to match the brains, and the crude joke when necessary.
Over the years, all the Malaysian universities have adopted the rallying cry, when it comes to crunch-time.
It lacks bluster in a written sentence but imagine a packed auditorium rocking with Malaysians screaming it and shocking the bejesus out of the rest.
It is great to regale tales such as this at a time when too many Malaysians are shouting literally at each other online over differences. Because they remind us that our darker moments are outstripped by the times we are cheering each other on.
Keepers of the Malayan Tiger
Like going to a national team match, and to find Ultras Malaya — the fan collective — are in the house. These boys are a joy to behold, absolutely.
I was in the stands when Malaysia beat Indonesia in the 2017 SEA Games semi-final and Ultras turned the inside into a madhouse. The absence of the Ultras for the final — due to FAM not prioritising their biggest supporters — resulted in a sedated atmosphere. Malaysia lost to Thailand.
My friend’s a mad Liverpool fan, the kind who auctions a family member to attend a Champions League Final featuring his team, as he did last May. Proud as he remains of his childhood club he admits being was awed by the Ultras the one time he went to Bukit Jalil, said they’d outdo Anfield.
While the comparison is moot, it is the presence of such passion for the country among our young which should convince us there is more to Malaysia than the negativity pervading our timelines.
There are millions of young Malaysians who as much as they are perplexed by our dysfunctional politics have no doubts about their love for the country. It disappoints to know their energy is not reciprocated by those in power.
The flag
I have strong liberal tendencies. It’s not the best kept secret. The ownership of our flag is equal to all Malaysians. Their attitudes towards the Jalur Gemilang reflect their sentiments towards it, and they are entitled to their opinions.
My father loved his flags, and the feeling stays in the family. A country is after all a collection of families. He’d drive home early from his taxi shifts to catch the national team play, and it was about the only time I saw him losing his cool, watching the national team battle it out without any takers.
If there is a political point to be made here, it is the regret many secure their career survival by emphasising our differences.
Fortunately, many differ with them.
Our debaters display the flag on their stage table when they make it to the finals of competitions, while those in the crowd chant “You’ll never beat Malaysia.”
We are a young country, and all gains are fragile. These positive stories, recollections and feelings are important, because whether we care to own up or not, our confidence rattles easily when pressure’s applied.
But it’s fine. Every day we survive and get through, we get that much stronger. The country is far more durable despite adolescent insecurities. What we need is more people to shout to the naysayers, that they’ll never beat Malaysia.
* This is the personal opinion of the columnist.
