I Want. That. Shirt.

I have my eye on the orange Osotogari shirt for the entire duration of the Piala Pengarah. It is my throw, and my longing for it is entirely understandable.

Steffi, another Osotogari specialist, is very happy to get hers ("Eep! Osotogari ahh? I want!"). Horng Eng sticks her tongue out at me throughout the entire competition, flaunting it.

You see, all officials get the Osotogari shirt free. But I am a competitor, I couldn't get it free, and I wanted it so badly.

"Sensei, can I have that shirt?" Pointing at the officials table, all decked in orange.

He has that familiar twinkle in his eye as he replies.

"Now, what I'm going to do is to print some extras, and keep them."

I groan inwardly. This is exactly what I don't want to hear.

He continues: "Ahh. Now you train hard, and in the next few competitions if you do well I'll give you one. Got many chances for you to prove yourself wad. The PLPB Open, The President's Cup ... where the Perak judoka will be invited again ..."

And this time the groan escapes my lips, curling in the air. Trust Sensei to come up with something to push me harder, a carrot slowly revolving above me. Upwards.

That shirt belongs to me. I want it.

And the PLPB Open is tomorrow.