SCHOOLBOY CRICKET AND NATION-BUILDING IN SINGAPORE
It would hardly have been surprising for the typical reader of the Singapore daily Straits Times newspaper to have raised an eyebrow at the following header-title of an article printed sometime in 1995: “PING YI PUSHES FOR GENTLEMAN’S GAME.” The article sought to explain just why “a Chinese-named school with a substantial Malay student population” was “attempting to promote an Englishman’s sport.” Indeed, the formation in 1994, and continuation, of the Ping Yi Cricket Club was truly an unexpected event in the long and distinguished history of Ping Yi Secondary School. In fact, but for the circumstantial and well-timed confluence of several factors, such an event would have been quite unthinkable. Quite fortuitously, the tale of schoolboy cricket at Ping Yi school has been reported on in three Straits Times articles and one magazine write-up. More significantly, this sporadic documentation, spanning some fifteen years, from 1995 to 2010, can be now recounted against a larger (sightscreen) backdrop of nation-building in Singapore herself.
FROM BRITISH COLONY TO NEW NATION
Peng Ghee (or “Ping Yi”) Public School itself was founded in 1930 as a Chinese-medium, village school in the rural, rolling farmlands of Chai Chee (“vegetable market”) on the eastern reaches of Singapore island. The school’s development and giddy progress through the decades were in large part due to the support, contributions and unflagging activity of the farming community in Chai Chee. By no means a wealthy estate, the whole population of hard working and resilient Chinese farmers placed a premium on educating their children. Up to the 1970s, education in Peng Ghee, as in all Chinese-medium schools in Singapore, was unreservedly and unabashedly pro-China. Textbooks came from China, as did most teachers and Principals. Linguistically, culturally, politically and sympathetically, the students in these Chinese schools imbibed a world view that was nationalistically Chinese, and after 1949, ideologically communist.
But the 1950s were glory-days for Peng Ghee Public School. With a massive enrolment of thousands, it became one of the largest village-based Chinese-medium school in the British colony of Singapore. While the likes of Chung Cheng High School and Chinese High School drew in enthusiastic students from urban estates, Peng Ghee’s popularity among the peasant-ranked classes made it a force to be reckoned with. Up to the 1960s, residents in the estate could hear nightly classes held in the school where loud chants of “Long Live Chairman Mao!” rang out through the evenings. If the urban Chinese schools provided the intelligentsia, then their rural counterparts such as Peng Ghee supplied the numerical support the pro-China socialist movement in Singapore needed during the heady days of the 1950s before independence.
The English sports of football, cricket, rugby and tennis were unknown in this Chinese universe. However, these English games were played in all the “mission schools” in Singapore, mostly founded by leading English lights and philanthropists (Raffles Institution), or English missionaries (Anglo-Chinese School, St Andrew’s School) or Catholic missionaries (St Patrick’s School, St Joseph’s School). The schoolboys in these very anglicised institutions studied the history and geography of the British Empire, spoke English, regarded England with affectation, and of course, played all the English sports.
Cricket should never have made it to Ping Yi.
That it did can only be explained by further twists in the course of Singapore history.
For some two decades after Singapore’s independence from Malaysia in 1965, (the British had administered the island as a colony from 1819 to 1963) the newly installed government of the Peoples’ Action Party, led by the very able, very visionary and very pragmatic Lee Kuan Yew, poured its energies and resources into accelerating the new nation alongside other industrialised economies. Singapore rapidly did away with her pastoral economy, became even more entwined in the globalised network of trade-based economies, and invested heavily in manufacturing. In this new, exciting and competitive world, where many ex-colonies sought to find their place and prove themselves to previous colonial masters, education, knowledge and skills would be of paramount importance.
And so as Singapore forged its way into the ranks of first-world nations, priority in nation-building was given to the construction of factories, schools, public housing, communal amenities, hospitals and clinics and a transport/communications infrastructure. While sports and games could and did play their part in the swiftly improving nation, some sports and games better suited the new fast-paced, energetic, even frenetic lifestyle of the more disciplined and increasingly productive workforce. Football, or soccer, with its regulated two halves of 45 minutes, its existing cosmopolitan playing fraternity and fairly straightforward rules, was the approved “national sport” of the day. Cricket, with its (comparatively) very slow pace, complex laws, seemingly unending hours of play, and association with the Empire, quickly fell out of favour. One Day cricket had yet to set the world alight, and five-day tests were most unsuited to the temperament of the new Singapore.
In the meantime, Peng Ghee Public School had served its purpose. The increasing push for bilingualism in Singapore in the 1970s and the hardened stance against any form of socialist/communist leanings soon led to the inevitable demise of Chinese-medium schools, the majority of which were converted into government-schools, where the English language was the nationally chosen medium of instruction. Peng Ghee was forced to close her doors in 1976. It reopened eight years later, in 1984, relocated to a new site (not far from the old), as Ping Yi Secondary School. Reflecting the changes in societal values, it now utilised the English language, had a multi-racial student population and, in fact, drew in a large number of non-Chinese.
THE EMERGENCE OF “NATIONAL EDUCATION” IN SINGAPORE
Straits Times article #1 – “Ping Yi Pushes for Gentleman’s Game” (1995)
The origin of cricket at the new Ping Yi was less dramatic than the Straits Times made it out to be. As a beginning teacher, my very first posting, in 1994, was to Ping Yi. The genesis of cricket in the school can be traced to a meeting which the then Principal, Mrs Pearl Goh had with me not long after my arrival. As she recalls it to the Straits Times:
Some time last year, one of our teachers suggested that he would like to start a cricket team. I thought: ‘Cricket!’ I said I would think about it. Then a few days later, a group of students approached me and asked for permission to combine with St. Patrick’s (school) for a game of, yes, cricket. It was such a coincidence. The teacher did not know of this group of boys. So I decided to put the students and the teacher together and we started having cricket!
While it is true that I had not known of the cricket proposal by the boys yet, what actually transpired in the Principal’s office was principally different from that reported! As a new teacher, the school had thought to deploy me to the Uniformed Groups, perhaps the Scouts or the National Cadet Corps, for my “extra-curricular activity” duties. I had admittedly very little interest in the regimented military routines of the “UGs”, no desire whatsoever to spend hours marching and drilling in the sun, and absolutely no wish to waste my holidays camping out in the jungle. I politely requested to decline the invitation on the grounds of my medical downgrade in National Service. Very quickly, and as tactfully as I could, I counter-proposed with the idea of a cricket team. Once the boys, on their own, came to “the P” with their interest, the wicket was ready, so to speak.
The timing was right too. After some three decades of extremely disciplined, single-minded, very successful but also very dour industrialisation, the nation was ready for some fun, more heart and soul, more creativity, and less unquestioning restraint. In schools, the new educational fashions were - “thinking skills” for a “learning nation.” The new “National Education” programme, launched in 1996-97, was to be part of “Total Education,” and would seek to “develop national cohesion, the instinct for survival and confidence in the future.” Teachers were now tasked with “providing their pupils not only with skills and knowledge for the future, but with the values and attitudes to be good citizens, conscious of their responsibilities to family, community and country.” National Education, or “NE” would appeal to both heart and mind. All students would learn to apply the six key “NE” messages, one of which was that “We must uphold meritocracy and incorruptibility.” (Reference No : Edun N09-0l-057 / Press Release No : 017/97 /Date : 16 May 1997)
The game of cricket, with its heavy emphasis on sportsmanship, fair play, good conduct, patience and resilience, suddenly fitted nicely into the new schema. The nation was eager to move on from her industrial revolution, and embrace a fresh breath of life in which good and wholesome social values were to be imbibed and healthy living encouraged. Singapore’s young citizens were now exhorted to think more, and at the same time, cultivate a gracious society. The common visual image of the cricketer, attired in “whites,” gently applauding even opponents, patiently waiting to bat, unhurried and unflustered in the field, ceaselessly thinking and planning, meticulously keeping score, and adapting to sudden changes in weather, clearly and conveniently suited the new national purposes.
Mrs Pearl Goh summarised the sentiments towards cricket very well:
‘Cricket is a gentlemanly game,’ she said. ‘It requires a great deal of patience and discipline and these are qualities that help to bring out the best in students.’
“Bringing out the best” in our boys would be a fresh refrain to be repeated many times. The young had great potential and must be encouraged to fulfil it! In the process, they had to be tenderly loved, cared for and gently nudged to greater heights.
‘I think it is important just to be there and cheer them when you can,’ she said. ‘A little thing like that goes a long way. The boys feel motivated and know that they are appreciated. I think that is important so that the best in them can be brought out.’
Sports and games would be a vital counterbalance to the hard and unremorseful demands of modern living. The age-old argument of physical activity keeping restless adolescents out of trouble was once again reiterated, this time by myself:
‘It helped keep the boys on the right side of things. They are occupied on Saturday afternoons in a meaningful activity… I try to get the boys to channel their energy into this sport which will help them develop as individuals as well as team players.’
Although the clear asset of the game for the Singapore of the mid-1990s was its emphasis on values and social graces, there were other features which would prove very useful for nation-building in the years to come.
One was the possibility that cricket had, along with many other team sports, of bringing people of diverse ethnic backgrounds together. Even in the first two years, the Ping Yi cricketers included an Australian boy (accurate medium pacer) studying in the school, a bubbly and irrepressible Indian fast bowler, Namit Trevedi, and a burly Eurasian, Mark Truscott, who could slog-heave the ball around. The second advertised feature of the game, at least at Ping Yi, was its power to change lives. As Mrs Goh put it: “I don’t see why some of our kampong (village) kids cannot be transformed into gentlemen.” Indeed, this mantra, a la Eliza Doolittle, would be repeated many times over again in the following years.
CRICKET AND THE THINKING SCHOOLS
In May 1999, Ping Yi cricket made it into the popular local Teenage magazine. The reporter, a local Chinese, spent an afternoon with the boys and printed his article with the long and telling heading – “You may not understand cricket and may even find it an uninteresting sport. However, there are others who view the game as an ultimate test of patience, skill and nerves. Kenneth Wong talks to teenagers who swear by the GENTLEMAN’S GAME.” A sympathetic article which sought to explain the sport to the uninitiated, the main thesis was nonetheless, that cricket was a complex, even complicated game requiring a great number of skills, which when accomplished, made cricketers truly a special breed.
Anyone who was mystified by the game was definitely not alone: “If you don’t have a clue what the game of cricket is all about, think softball!” It was not a simple game: “cricket is far more intricate,” lengthy in duration and steeped in some misty, mythical past, complete with “stark all-white uniforms and old fashioned tea breaks.” Its teenage exponents, such as the then Ping Yi captain, Imamul Siddiqui, were quick to extol the game’s virtues, a lot of which went unnoticed by passers-by: “Cricket is a sport with many interesting aspects. Unseen to the spectator is a tremendous amount of passion and about a 101 things that run through a player’s mind at any one time.”
A cricketer must always be ready for the unexpected, prepared to adapt to changes that sprang up unannounced. Said Joshua Wong, “What’s interesting is that you have to be prepared all the time. You just don’t know what’s going to happen next.” And as the reporter noted, aside from the game proper, numerous other factors abounded, from the weather, the pitch condition and the players’ form, all of which could determine the outcome of a match.
Meanwhile, education in Singapore in the late1990s was undergoing a major renovation. The Ministry of Education was re-evaluating teaching strategies, classroom pedagogies, pupil management and pastoral care programmes. In addition to National Education, the “Thinking Schools, Learning Nation” programme was implemented in 1997. This ambitious project sought to engineer a large-scale paradigm shift in so far as thinking skills were concerned. The globalising nature of world economies and the advent of the internet-age demanded a relinquishing of age-old learning habits such as rote memorisation in favour of creativity, systemic thinking and levels of responses. Suddenly, students were expected to make quick decisions, think “out of the box,” and articulate their “findings” after their “group discussions.” Everyone was required to “buzz” and “share” their thoughts one with another. Singapore schools were looking different, and a heady mixture of excitement (for the future) and discomfort (at the pace of change) was everywhere perceptible.
Perhaps it was cricket’s intrinsic stability and seeming immutability that proved a useful way to remain grounded and that made it an ally of education. Or maybe it was the thinking aspect of the game that was its allure.
Like most British originated sports, cricket is a highly technical game with a lot of rules to ensure fairness of play. To possess a basic grasp of the game’s rules and regulations itself would take at least a year or two.
In the classroom, “Bloom’s Taxonomy”, where thinking skills were arranged and ranked from “lower order thinking” (eg. comprehension) to “higher order thinking,” (eg. analysis) was all the rage. And for schoolboy cricketers such as those in Ping Yi, or the Anglo Chinese School captain Andrew Baker, it was “exactly the complex nature of the game that first drew him to the sport and sustained his interest thus far.” Simply put, cricket was a complicated game requiring a high level of thinking skills for success. And it was deemed appropriate for the thinking school in a learning nation.
Not that physical ability did not matter, for it did. But it was not about body mass, bulky frames, muscular torsos or a tall gait, so beloved of American sports such as American “Football,” basketball or ice hockey. Rather, it was about fitness, finesse, basic motor skills and the backyard ability to throw, catch, run and bat. It is no wonder that in international cricket, Asian teams such as India and Sri Lanka can compete on par with English, Australian and New Zealand teams. It was just not enough for a player to be big, but he had to be mentally strong and resilient too.
All eleven players must also resist being psychologically rattled by the other team and produce a consistent performance over an extended period of time. Cricket is about staying power, patience, determination and a never-say-die fighting spirit….
Cricket as a sport was therefore eminently suited for the Singapore schoolboy preparing for the rigorous demands of the 21st century.
FITTING INTO “THE SINGAPORE STORY”
Straits Times article #2 – “Ping Yi Goes Down to St. Andrew’s; but being in ‘B’ final is already a dream come true for ‘kampung’ side” (2000)
In 2000 the Ping Yi Under-17 cricket team made it to the final of the premier schoolboy competition, the National Schools Cricket Tournament. To get to the final, within touching distance of gold, itself represented a monumental achievement, for the team had defeated more eminent schools en route to the Ceylon Sports Club at Balestier Road. In the semi-final, the ‘kampung’ cricketers from Ping Yi stunned everyone by defeating much fancied Raffles Institution by a massive 118 runs (RI made 71 in reply to PY’s mammoth 189).
The team from Chai Chee quickly became the popular underdogs, having “surprised many with its giant-killing acts.” The article, which appeared a day after Ping Yi lost the final, none the less wildly claimed that: “Schools cricket is no longer dominated by mission or independent schools.” It almost did not matter that they did not win the final; by playing in it, they had already gone beyond expectation. “Reaching the final was already a dream come true for the school.”
Very rarely do dreams come true in all their entirety. By getting to the final and not winning it, Ping Yi’s feat was in some ways more realistic than if they had actually won it! The storyline was superb enough: Dream big; even if you miss it by a whisker, you’ll still attain success and remain down to earth.
At any rate, the world loves the underdog. And in 2000, facing a St. Andrew’s team choking with national age-group cricketers, Ping Yi was clearly the underdog. Not only that, by resurrecting the affectionate term describing the team as the ‘kampung’ side, many a neutral heart was swiftly won over. There was an implicit lesson to be learnt too! If the village boys from Chai Chee could do it, so can you. Applying the line of thought to the nation, it reinforced the conviction which it was expected all Singaporean youth ought to imbue – do not let other larger, more prosperous nations look down condescendingly on us. The island republic might be sniffed at for its diminutive size and referred to as a “little red dot,” but no fear, perseverance yields success. Turn the insult on its own head, and make Singapore the best little red dot ever.
The kampung cricketers truly embodied that Singapore spirit. They did their best with what little resources they possessed. Against the odds and all expectations, they remained resolute. With resilience, unity and, crucially, good leadership, they might not win everything, but to win many things was success enough.
At around this time, nation builders in Singapore were also very active in assembling a coherent and utilitarian view of Singapore’s recent, post-World War Two history. Scholars, usually somewhat sceptical, dubbed it “The Singapore Story.” The term itself first appeared in 1998 as the title for Senior Minister Lee Kuan Yew’s extremely popular autobiography. Very soon, the term also came to refer to the quasi-official version of Singapore’s history which dominated from then on. As historian Karl Hack explains:
From 1998, the “Singapore Story” was entrenched. First, there was the major public exhibition on the “Singapore Story,” emphasising the war years, the subsequent PAP struggle for independence and against communism, ethnic chauvinism and economic peril. Second, “National Education,” based around this narrative – and attached “lessons” about how Singaporeans must behave – was integrated into school curriculums, at first as separate lessons, and ultimately infused across subjects. Students were also taken on “Learning Journeys” to wartime and business sites to reinforce the story’s messages. There was an insistent state desire that students at all levels be imparted lessons through social studies at Primary School, and history at Secondary, such as “We Must Ourselves Defend Singapore.” There was also relentless emphasis on the need for social and economic discipline. (Karl Hack, “Framing Singapore’s History” in Nicholas Tarling ed., Studying Singapore’s Past: C.M. Turnbull and the History of Modern Singapore, published 2012)
The narrative of Ping Yi cricket thus far was therefore a neat microcosm of the national story being weaved on a larger scale. In this narrative, the lack of experience was no obstacle. According to the teacher in charge of Ping Yi in 2000, “our cricket programme is only seven years old and yet we’ve become the first neighbourhood school to reach a schools final.” Such hearty statements indeed resonated with The Singapore Story. The island republic might have been young and inexperienced, having been thrust unexpectedly into a sudden independence from the relative safety of Merger, but no matter, much could be accomplished in spite of inexperience. What was needed was a united commitment to the cause, or as the popular national song exhorts: “Stand up for Singapore! Do the best you can. Stand up for your fellow man, you’ve got to make a stand!”
In this national narrative, poverty was no hindrance. In fact, the willingness to overcome the disadvantages of poverty was a definite asset.
‘It’s a big achievement as our boys are not from well-off families and can’t even afford their own cricket apparel, unlike kids in the mission or independent schools.’ Added vice-captain Hussein Munir, 16: ‘Compared to schools with its own cricket ground, we play kampung cricket.’
“Kampung” cricket! The very words evoked nostalgia and sentimentality. It carried all the endearing connotations of a simple life, uncluttered by modernity, surrounded by friends, and doing one’s best against the odds. This was what the nation needed. Well, not a return to primitivism, but a longing for better things and the sheer willingness to not allow little disadvantages to get in the way. Singapore herself had succeeded against the odds. As any school boy or girl would be able to say, in the words of another popular song sung annually: “There was a time when people said that Singapore won’t make it, but we did!”
Finally, for the nation, even a lack of support was no barrier to success. Why, even the Ping Yi cricketers proved it. As one of the boys in the 2000 team lamented: “Supporters are also scarce at our matches, as our schoolmates don’t understand cricket.” So be it. The premium placed on resilience was higher than that placed on friendship. Friends come and go, and even neighbouring countries disagree with each other. The voices of support will wax and wane, but never fear, for we are “One People, One Nation, One Singapore!” In making it quite alone, the Ping Yi cricketers of 2000 showed how adaptable it was to changes, even changes for the better. For now, the kampung team, “which used to be thrashed when we first started playing,” had now proven “that a neighbourhood school can also excel in cricket.”
That Ping Yi actually lost that final to St Andrew’s was almost a byline in the whole story. Even the reporter was caught up in the euphoria of a kampung team just coming up against “a Saints team that had eight national age-group players.” The grey cloud had many silver linings indeed. The close ties of camaraderie forged over the hard-fought season were priceless, as captain Shaun Sabapathy gushed: “There are no stars on this team and the bond between players is very strong, on and off the field.” Furthermore, it had been a thoroughly fun year: “We played our hearts out in every match and had enjoyed ourselves.” There was a sporting acknowledgement of defeat to a better opponent, and anyway, “being second is no disgrace.”
The Singapore Story, written by the nation-builders, was truly a remarkable one. If unglamorous and unfancied underdogs such as the Ping Yi Cricket Club – kampong team – could pull off remarkable feats such as making the final of the 2000 National Schools Cricket Tournament, then what could the nation not do? Even little red dots can get noticed in a sea of blue.
A GLOBALISED GAME FOR A GLOBALISED WORLD
Straits Times article #3 – “Why cricket’s fun for Chinese, Malay boys” (2010)
Ten years after the Ping Yi Cricket Club confronted the St Andrew’s giants and lost, the Straits Times ran yet another article on the boys from Chai Chee. The team of 2010 was carrying on the success of the previous years, but clearly there had been changes in the cricket scene, which in turn mirrored the dramatic transformation of Singapore society in the early 21st century. And it all came down to people, or more specifically, population growth.
At independence in 1965, Singapore’s population was 1.8 million. Fifteen years later, it had trudged to 2.4 million. In 1990, it was some 3 million; by the turn of the millennia, 4 million. Ten years on, in 2010, the number of people residing on the small island was now some 5 million. The largest factor that had caused the figures to spike in the last two decades or so was immigration. In that year, Singapore citizens numbered 3.2 million, or 64% of the total population. According to the country's census in 2010, nearly 23% of Singaporean residents (i.e. citizens and permanent residents) were foreign born (about 10% of Singapore citizens were foreign-born naturalised citizens); if non-residents were counted, nearly 43% of the total population were foreign born.
Very quickly, Singapore had become a more crowded place to live in. But if population density created its own issues of space and housing, there were other emerging points of tension too. Relations between local residents (including but not only citizens) and short-term foreign labour became increasingly strained. Social integration of newcomers was now a more delicate process, and ethnic sensitivities became more pronounced. Singaporeans struggled to come to terms with these rapid demographic changes. In schools, there was an influx of foreign students from all over Asia. Even the many international schools were being filled to the brim, so that foreign students were now streaming into the local schools. In addition to the fairly common sight of students from Malaysia, Indonesia, India and China, many were coming from hitherto unexpected quarters such as South Korea, Vietnam, Myanmar, Nepal, Australia, Hong Kong, and one or two from North Korea. In my own form class of 2016, out of 28 students, 22 were not Singaporean, and hailed instead from China, Taiwan, Myanmar, Zambia, India, Indonesia and Malaysia.
These national concerns also spilled over into the schoolboy cricket scene, and cast their own shadows on the game’s development and progress. The problems relating to multi-culturalism and arising from globalisation were at the fore.
In October 2001, the Singapore government detained members of the Jemaah Islamiyah extremist-militant group, who had been planning a series of terrorist attacks on diplomatic and public institutions on the island. This had come just weeks after the ghastly events of 11 September in New York city. The two events very clearly rattled many Singapore citizens and residents alike, as the real and clear threat of global terrorism reared its ugly head. In the months and years following, the people of Singapore became much more aware of the need for social integration and inter-racial harmony. Promoting good ethnic relations was more needed than ever before, and schools, always at the forefront of any government-sponsored campaigns, were everywhere extolled to uphold, practise and preserve social harmony.
The 6 March 2010 Straits Times article paid a great deal of attention to the ethnic composition of the cricket teams at Ping Yi and Unity Secondary School. While the former’s sustained good form over the years was mentioned – they were about to face Raffles Institution again in the National Schools semi-final in two weeks – the emphasis, as far as nation building was concerned, was clearly ethnic diversity and integration. Both schools had clearly cosmopolitan teams. There were five Chinese boys enrolled in the Unity squad, while Ping Yi had “eight Malay, five Indian and two Chinese boys.”
Although the game in Singapore had long been dominated by the Indians, for whom cricket was woven inexorably into the national psyche and cultural fabric of the subcontinent, it was felt that other races too could pick it up easily. The reporter, Santosh Kumar, introduced the article with the following paragraph:
Cricket does not come naturally to Chinese and Malay boys because it is not steeped in their cultures. So, it was refreshing to see a host of Chinese and Malay boys on the field when neighbourhood schools Ping Yi Secondary played Unity Secondary in a B Division league match at the Singapore Cricket Association’s (SCA) ground in Kallang recently.
Ethnicity and supposed cultural predispositions were very minor factors for cricketing success, said Shoib Razak, the coach of Ping Yi, quite emphatically: “The Malay and Chinese boys have a lot of interest and enthusiasm. They take time to pick up the skills but are as competitive as the Indian boys.” Ability in sports and games, it would often be stressed over and over again, definitely knew no racial discrimination.
Schools, with their emphasis on co-curricular activities, were eminently suited to providing what soon became known as “common-spaces” for young people of all races, and from all walks of life, to interact, make friends and reinforce social harmony in Singapore. The need to enlarge this “common space” became even more urgent as the country widened its door further in the early years of the century to more immigrants.
One of the distinct effects of globalisation on schools cricket was the near-internationalisation of teams from a certain strata of schools. Scholars, athletes, sportsmen who came to Singapore, attracted by the high quality of education provided, now filled the ranks of the cricket teams in upper echelon schools. For the schoolboy cricketers in neighbourhood schools, who picked up the sport in Secondary One, it now became almost an insurmountable hurdle to win against schools where the boys had played the game from early childhood. The differences in skills, knowledge, instinct, and basic know-how was greater than ever before. The article acknowledged this pressing problem which resulted in many local boys losing heart as well as confidence.
Another factor is they find it difficult to compete with highly skilled foreign talent from India, Sri Lanka and Pakistan for places in the national age-group squads.
Furthermore, with insufficient moral support and encouragement from family members, teachers and friends unschooled in the game, “their interest wanes after a while,” as noted by Goh Swee Heng, the enigmatic and much-respected cricket coach. Yet other problems had crept into the administration of the game. With the entry of numerous schoolboy cricketers from the subcontinent whose parents took on Singapore citizenship, even the national age-group squads were being dominated by players who were born and raised outside Singapore. All this left local cricketers feeling disenchanted and disillusioned. As one such bright promising ex-Raffles Institution cricketer lamented: “I left the sport because I had personal commitments. I like the game and did well enough but I could not find the time to play it after a while. Moreover, I felt the local boys were not getting fair representation.”
The game of cricket in Singapore is at present more delicately poised than ever before. In terms of number of leagues, matches played, cricketers, grounds and overall interest, the proportion has certainly risen in the last decade. The national team competes in higher international divisions and is not short of tournament experience. As this is written, there are high hopes of a medal in the upcoming South East Asia Games. However, it remains questionable if more Singaporean cricketers are rising through the ranks from the local schools. Indeed, a cursory glance seems to suggest the opposite. And even if they are, schoolboy cricket is today less cosmopolitan in its ethnic representation than before.
Sports and games in local Singapore schools have always served multiple interests and needs – individual, school, societal as well as national. Since the revival of schoolboy cricket in the early 1990s, the game has found a little niche in the very much larger Singapore Story. From the instilling of positive social values such as sportsmanship, good conduct, fair-play, patience and courage, to the heart-warming and very useful accounts of village-boys defeating well-heeled opponents, and the provision of much needed common space, schoolboy cricket has done its part to serve the nation. In the process, countless boys have enjoyed the sunshine, camaraderie, competition and life experiences. It must be hoped that as Singapore continues to locate for herself a stable and effective role in this volatile, uncertain and ambiguous world, the game of cricket will continue to make a useful contribution.