Being in the middle is a tough game

Tried my best to understand what the problems were in the game over the years. In fact, I tried so hard that the only sense it all made was for me to stop trying to understand and move over.
But there's a certain pull. I've never been married but I guess that is probably how I'd describe it if I were. Probably the reason why you return to your wife. Or even the sort of feeling I have for my kid brother, the type when even after some fierce fights, the scent of his hair feels better than any perfume on earth when we hug and make up.
We try going away, but keep coming back for more. Even despite the chill of knowledge that the smiles, the welcoming arms, the urging, the encouragement aren't always what they seem.
You drill into your mind that doing your job is all you want.
The mess is so huge that it isn't just a cold war between two 'nations', the divide can be split into three, four, five warring factions, while on the sidelines the 'kompang teams' offer their version of who is right in all matters.
You then watch as six karters, four of whom are foreigners, form a grid for a cadet class race. You just barely come up with the heart to write a story about an 18-car line-up for a national rally round, with just four of those in with a real shot at the overall title.
You find time to be humbled by the devotion of that bunch of hardcore privateers lining up cars that would have been fit for the scrapyard before they put heart and soul into its transformation into a race car. You begin to think about what they're doing it for.
You read as your country's resources get pumped into foreign dreams without even one of the characters in the scripts you wrote along the years going along for the ride. You are left in utter disgust when your compatriots who dare to dream are left to fend for themselves without resources. And you then find that no question can be asked.
You listen to your long-time friend who ended his glorious years as the greatest ever Malaysian motorcycle racer and ache at his story of a struggle to keep a programme going. But then you find busloads of kampung boys coming to town, sharing a common dream of one day being just like that friend of yours.
You listen because it is your job to listen. And you watch because, cruel as the world may seem, this is your part in it all. You then form an opinion because you're bloody paid to do so. And your opinion triggers the crossfire that comes next.
And in doing all that you find reason. You find it all down to love. It is the reason for carrying on because you will love few the same way. And you soldier on into the crossfire, over and over again, still trying to make sense of all hell caused by love.
It is a tough life. But you're just the writer.


P.s.: Thus, I welcome all to the Motorsports Networking Night at the National Press Club for a night with the media on Wednesday, Jan 21. And I love you all.