Yee Fong’s Blog

If there was one thing that the Beijing laobaixing might have learnt from the whole Olympics fanfare, it would be the Human Wave (or Mexican Wave to the Mexicans; or the Kallang wave to Singaporeans…), and the fun of letting their hair down cheering for players on the courts.

I had a blast attending one of the preliminary rounds of volleyball in the first week of the Olympics, and it was not because of the matches.

It began with a brainwashing exercise as I got past the security check into the venue.

At least three student volunteers, just steps apart from each other, exclaimed to me in an overwhelming earnestness to “enjoy the games!” as I strolled towards the gymnasium.

Their enthusiasm was endearing but I couldn’t help but feel embarrassed to have my arrival announced to hordes of other strangers streaming in, who also got their fair share of embarrassment…

But hey, I’m all for the festive spirit and yeah, I would “enjoy the games!”

As the preliminary match went into full-swing, volunteers tried to rouse the crowd by urging spectators to do the human wave, rather coyly.

Among the spectators were a good number of residents in the neighbourhood let in by the organizers to fill the seats.

They consisted mainly of middle-to-old aged men and women dressed in their home-casuals, armed with paper fans, who sauntered into the venue in their slippers.

“Erm…Let’s do the human wave at the next time-out, ok? ” a volunteer said to his bemused audience politely.

The human wave was predictably subdued as it was a new activity to the grandpas and grandmas, who had no clue about what it was.

The volunteers didn’t know better, either, as they watched the wave dissipate, instead of keeping the momentum going.

If anything, the competitive mood was kept alive by the Polish contingent, who showed up with flags, banners and painted faces.

“Go, Egypt!!!!” a lone supporter of the Egyptian team yelled all of sudden.

He was, of course, quickly drowned out by the Polish collective.

I decided to rally the moms and pops to root for the underdog.

“Come on, this guy has no supporters!” I stood up, turned around, and said to moms and pops.

It was awkward as they stared at me like I had two heads on my neck, while the lone laowai continued to stretch his vocals.

But before long, the neighbourhood squad, who were at first tickled by the lone enthusiasm of the laowai, began to chant with him.

At one point, a frail old man even turned to me and initiated a chant, beating his pair of cheer sticks for effect.

Never mind that the Polish anthems were overpowering and their cheers were tight…we had the Chinese on our side!

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