NOW I know what the Aussies must have endured when they encountered Ian Botham.

The cricket legend, knighted in 2007 for his outstanding all-round contributions for England, growled at me: "How much time do you need?"

I replied, half-jokingly: "More than an hour."

He became furious. "No go, you get just 20 minutes," he said, and stormed off to complain to the American Express representative, who had arranged the interview at 4.30pm.

I stood my ground. He soon cooled down. And, after a short discussion, agreed to talk to me.

Botham and former England batsman Allan Lamb had just flown in from Hong Kong and were visibly tired. But they answered my questions on Twenty-20 cricket with spontaneity at the Grand Copthorne Waterfront Hotel.

Two legends: Cricketers Ian Botham and Allan Lamb in Singapore. ST PHOTO

I though it would not be decent on my part to stretch it. So, I entered into a pact with the Amex representative that I would be given the chance to ask more questions during the Dine with The Legends event that was to commence at 7pm.

A relieved Botham walked off for a nap. I couldn't help noticing as he passed by that he was not as huge as he appeared on television when he steamed in to bowl at the Aussies. He was beefy, but only slightly taller than my 1.75m height. He was not a giant that I had to fear.

Botham was one of the great all-rounders of the game that I admired when he was on top of his game in the late 70s and early 80s.

I doffed my cap to his fighting qualities. He could turn around a match with his exceptional batting and bowling skills, as he did on numerous occasions against his arch-rivals Australia.

The Amex representative tried her best to comfort me, telling me that it was jet-lag that made him behave the way he did. I said I’m used to such characters, because cricket is full of them.

Some of the American Express platinum card members had paid more than $1,000 to be seated on the same table as Botham and Lamb during the dinner. I found myself among the exalted company without shelling a cent.

Diehard cricket fans worldwide, I'm sure, would envy me.

Botham was a different man when he walked in for the dinner. He mingled freely with the guests and, after a peg or two of Glenlivet, opened up to me.

I got the story I wanted. But, more importantly, I enjoyed the Beefy and Lamby show. After a splendid dinner, they regaled the audience with cricketing anecdotes.

You have to be a cricket fanatic to enjoy most of what they said. It was side-splitting. I had never experienced such amusing and detailed talk from cricketers before.

The coordination between Botham and Lamb was brilliant. And it was facilitated by the sarcastic prods of ESPN Star Sports commentator Alan Wilkins.

They spoke about their pet hate, former England captain Geoff Boycott who was a dour character, how they believed drinking beer and wine at the bar would help their game rather than working out in the nets, and how they took the mickey out of umpires, teammates and opponents.

It was so hilarious that the guests were rolling with laughter. "I had the time of my life," said Julie Brown,49, a Londoner who has been living in Singapore for the past 13 years. "They told such great stories. The punchlines were great. I was privileged to watch him as a cricketer. Now, I was able to sit so close to him."

Botham is a pundit now, extolling the virtues of Test cricket and abhorring the slam-bang T-20. He is also a champion fund-raiser, having raised more than 15 million pounds from his long-distance walks for leukemia research.

When Wilkins asked him if he would embark on such a walk in Singapore, he immediately said yes. And American Express said it would sponsor the event.

Botham may have stirred several controversies and appeared brash during his colourful career. But he has a friendly and humane side to him. I was privileged to experience that last Wednesday.

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FEW things give competition added significance more than rivalry.

And as tennis legends Pete Sampras and Andre Agassi showed on Sunday, the competition never quite ceases – not even when both parties have called it quits.

"As much as it's an exhibition, there's still a lot of pride," said Sampras before the Venetian Macao Tennis Showdown – the first time the two retired former world No. 1 stars squared up since the 2002 US Open final.

"Our egos are pretty big. Once the first point starts, I'm going to want to beat him."

Win Sampras did, 3-6, 6-3, 10-8, although in many ways, the clash was not quite like their previous 34 encounters (Sampras enjoys a 20-14 advantage, although this does not include the match-ups during their junior days).

For one, Pistol Pete would never opt to return first after winning the coin toss in his heyday.

Not to mention that he was eventually out-aced by Agassi, who is known more for his return of serve.

But while the contest was friendlier (how else can you explain Agassi's big smile after almost every point) and the stakes not as high, there were moments when it felt like we were living in the 90s once again.

The 11,000 fans who made it down to Asia's gambling capital, must have felt that they had hit the jackpot during a rally at 3-1 in the second set.

Agassi had retrieved Sampras' trademark Slam Dunk overhead only to see another smash pass him by. That was probably worth the entrance fee alone.

Then there was the exquisite half volley by Sampras to wrap up the second set, and bring the match into a champions' tie-break.

And pretty much like old times, he served the match out with an ace.

"It all came flooding back to me on court," said Agassi post-match. "Including the ace Pete did at the end."

Meaningless friendlies? Not if the match features two greats, and certainly not when a rivalry is renewed.

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YOU have heard of F1. But have you heard of F2?

More of that later but first, there is the little matter of trying to get back to my hotel in central Jakarta.

I spent the entire morning and early afternoon in Bogor, a city about one and a half hours outside Jakarta.

Singapore's favourite footballing son Fandi Ahmad had invited me to watch his Pelita Jaya team train.

Yours truly was in town to keep tabs on national players Noh Alam Shah, Baihakki Khaizan, Mustafic Fahrudin and Ridhuan Muhamad, who had all signed for Indonesia Super League (ISL) teams.

Being a kind host, Fandi and his assistant, another ex-Lion, Kadir Yahaya, offered to drive me back to the capital in their Kijang, an ubiquitous people carrier common on Indonesian roads.

As we weaved in and out of the heavy traffic, Fandi and Kadir made it crystal clear that it is not just pure footballing ability that will ensure success in the ISL.

There is the wrath of Mother Nature to contend with.

Kadir said: "Just a few days ago, strong tremors hit Jakarta but I thought it was going to be an earthquake. I took no chances, grabbed my laptop and just ran out of my office fearing for my life."

Inefficiency can be a problem as well.

This journalist's 1pm flight from Jakarta to Malang was delayed to 3.40pm without notice.

At the departure gate, passengers were finally told that Malang airport was closed and the flight would be diverted to Surabaya.

Airline staff said that it would be a two-hour bus ride from Surabaya to Malang. In truth, the journey took four and a half hours.

At one stage, the highway sunk due to gas exploration works gone wrong. It took an hour to make the 6km detour.

"This is very normal," Fandi said  matter of factly, never taking his eye off the road.

"Flights are cancelled or delayed without notice. You just make sure you arrive at the airport early and wait for the news."

As the Kijang expertly swerved left and right to dodge motorcycles and overtake slower vehicles, Fandi and Kadir spoke animatedly about the crazy travelling teams have to do to play 34 games a year.

It takes 10 hours flying time to reach Papua, home of ISL champions Persipura Jayapura, a trip that involves a landing approach that requires the 20-seater propeller plane to fly low and in between two misty mountains.

"I may be the coach but even I get tired from the travelling," Fandi, who was at the wheel, lamented.

Even the short trips can be troublesome.

Baihakki and Mustafic have been quick at making friends at Persija. And one of their new buddies is Bambang Pamungkas.

Already, the Indonesia star striker has briefed the duo on the club's deadly rivalry with Persib Bandung, who are a two-hour drive away from Jakarta.

"Bambang showed us a video of the road trip to Bandung," revealed Baihakki.

"We will take the coach from Jakarta and it will stop at the tollway just before the border to Bandung. We will cross the border on foot and board the two tanks that will be waiting for us.

"Two armoured trucks full of soldiers will also escort us into the stadium. It will be normal if we have to wait three hours in the dressing room after the game as there will be lots of fighting in the stands.

"Even after three hours, the tanks will be hit by all kinds of missiles when we eventually leave the stadium."

Then, there is also the small matter of getting up in the morning.

While most S-League teams train in the evenings, ISL clubs are at at work at the crack of dawn.

"I'm really not a morning person," was how Mustafic summed up his experience so far with Persija, whose trainings start at 7.30am.

"The club trains at an army camp outside the city and there are big traffic jams along the way. That means I have to be up at 5.30am."

Rock hard pitches can be another problem.

Ridhuan showed me his toes, all 10 of them blackened with blood clots beneath the nails.

"I can wear boots made of synthetic material back in Singapore," he said.

"But I have to wear leather ones now in Indonesia. Running on the fields here can be really painful for your feet."

With Indonesia a vast archipelago of 17, 508 islands, the country boasts a wide spectrum of people.

For Kadir, the cultural diversity has its funny side, too.

He said: "Just the other day, a python appeared on the training pitch. We ran for our lives.

"But this is nothing to Yoann Ibo, who has seen all kinds of wildlife in his native Papua. He was so happy to see the snake that he ran after the python, wrestled it and proudly showed it to us."

Before we knew it, what was supposed to be a 90 minute drive back to Jakarta was over in about half the time.

It is thanks to Fandi's wonderful, and new found, driving ability.

Having been coaching Pelita since 2006, the 47-year-old has adapted extremely well to the unique demands of Indonesian and ISL life.

"You just have to give in to the culture here," Fandi said. "The more you try to fight it, the more frustrated you will get. It's better to just blend in and go with the flow."

And who was it who said that overtaking is difficult in a street circuit?

Kadir is full of praise for his friend's skills behind the wheel.

His verdict: "This is even faster than F1. This is F2 - Fandi 2."

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WHAT did you do last weekend? What are you planning for this Saturday and Sunday? What about next weekend?

Chances are, quite a number of people were — or will be — tuning in to football matches, even if they may not be top-drawer clashes.

Has the game become a fixture in many people's choice of weekend relaxation?

Have wives and girlfriends become soccer widows as a result?

Are fathers doing things with their children only outside football-on-TV hours?

I ask all this because I detect a growing hard core group of addicted followers.

If not, why would so many folks be super upset when it was announced that there would be a change of EPL broadcast provider, from StarHub to SingTel?

Sure, the issues they raised, from the propect of paying more to subscribe to two content providers to the incompatibility of set-top boxes were legitimate.

But the scale of the furore is such that one might be tempted to think that the fans were in danger of being denied a very basic service or need, like cheap medical care or the right to send their kid to any primary school.

It was not that long ago that Singaporeans had only one game to watch a week on television. And the luck of the programming draw meant that lousy teams were featured as often as the good ones.

Now, there are a lot more live matches to watch — not all interesting, I must say — and many people seem to be making time and space to catch as many as possible.

They ignore the fact that there are other, more worthwhile, things in life to pursue too, be it a hobby or taking the family out more often for a movie or dinner.

Certainly, I have no great desire to watch all the games. What I prefer is the option to pay only for the match I want to watch.

This will be the big game, the critical showdown, and it won’t be Arsenal vs Wigan or Liverpool vs Hull.

But I want to be there for Man U vs Liverpool.

Or Chelsea vs Man City.

If the telco can come up with a pay-for-view option, I will sign up in a jiffy.  I don’t need to subscribe for a whole season’s worth of games.

Sure, life can be a ball — but not all of it should be experienced from watching the action on a field.

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I GUESS my colleague's reaction on Saturday evening was to be expected.

I had filed a Sunday Times report on the new women's national 100m hurdles record set by Dipna Lim-Prasad at the Malaysia Open.

Dipna Lim-Prasad, 18, in training. ST PHOTO: Desmond Wee

The 18-year-old Singapore Sports School graduate had clocked 14.72sec in the final to break Eileen Chai's record of 14.81 which was set in 2005.

But that was not what caught my colleague's attention. "You mean she broke the record even though she finished last?" he asked.

And that, in a nutshell, is why Dipna's milestone was a bittersweet moment for me.

Obviously, it was bitter because despite being a new national mark, it was still far behind the times of eventual winner Dedeh Erawati of Indonesia (13.34sec) and runner-up Sheena Antilano of the Philippines (13.99sec).

And I am not sure if Dedeh, the 2007 South-east Asia Games champion, and Antilano are even near their peak yet for this year’s SEA Games.

Sadly, Dipna's new record is a reflection of how far Singapore athletic standards have plummeted since the glory days of the 1970s, the main highlight of which was Chee Swee Lee's capture of the 400m gold at the 1974 Asian Games.

Why is Singapore athletics in such a state? That's for the Singapore Athletic Association and the local athletics community to answer.

But here's why Dipna's feat was also a sweet moment for me, and why I had particularly enjoyed writing about it — it marks a significant breakthrough in her development as an athlete.

You see, I've known Dipna since 2004. She was one of the 138 kids who  joined the Sports School as its pioneer batch of students when it opened that year. I was the school's communications manager at the time.

During my four years there, I watched her develop from a thin-as-a-rake 12-year-old into a promising runner. Yet, I always had a nagging feeling that Dipna didn't quite have that extra bit to be more than second-best in the 400m and 400m hurdles.

She spent her first three years at the School in the shadow of Valerie Pereira, who was the best in the 200m and 400m at age-group level.

Such was the gap between them: Two years ago, Dipna, then 16, clocked 58.68sec in the 400m at the National Schools Championships to set a B Division record. But that was still 0.65sec slower than Valerie’s national U-17 mark of 58.03, set in 2005 when she was just 15.

Last year, when it seemed Dipna was catching up with Valerie, and was also showing some promise in the 400m hurdles, along came a hurricane called T. Piriyah who blew everyone away to become the nation's new 400m and 400m hurdles queen.

The 15-year-old Sports School student caused jaws to drop at last year's National Schools Championships with her times of 57.11sec in the 400m and 63.86sec in the 400m hurdles. The former shattered Valerie's national U-17 mark. The latter obliterated Dipna's schools B Division record of 66.99sec.

All this left me wondering whether Dipna would ever become a national athlete to watch in her own right, or whether she would end up playing second fiddle to the Piriyahs and the Valeries, a strong relay runner at best.

Then came her breakthrough this year, thanks to a shrewd Georgian called Viatchelsav Vassiliev.

The Sports School sprints and hurdles coach, a former Soviet Union athlete, decided that her lanky 1.75m-tall frame and base speed of 12.6sec in the 100m (which compares favourably to Chee Swee Lee's 12.5sec at her peak) made her more suitable for the 100m hurdles.

So he switched her. It was a masterstroke.

Since clocking 15.8sec at the start of the year, Dipna has gone on to break the national junior record four times. And now she's the new owner of the 100m hurdles national record.

But Vassiliev thinks Dipna can go even faster. In fact, he has set her the target of meeting the qualifying mark of 14.14secs for next year's IAAF World Junior Championships.

Wow, it's enough to make you giddy with excitement.

However, this was the sweetest twist in the tale for me: Dipna wasn't even supposed to go to the Malaysian Open in the first place.

According to my sources, the SAA had originally picked her in for the meet. However it dropped her later after deciding to send only SEA Games-bound athletes.

Dipna was devastated. In the end, the Sports School told the SAA that it would pay for her trip to Kuala Lumpur and participation in the meet. And Dipna went on to repay the School's faith in her in the best way possible.

I know I will enjoy tracking Dipna's progress from now on and I do hope she qualifies for the World Juniors next year. For that would, in turn, make her one of the top hurdlers in our region and a possible medalist at the 2011 SEA Games.

Most of all, I am just happy that she has finally found her niche event, which has now enabled her to emerge as an exciting prospect to watch.

Bittersweet moment? Definitely more sweet than bitter, I say.

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This week, SingTel delivered on its promise that the cost of watching English Premier League on TV would not go up next year.

While this is surely good news for cost-conscious football fans, SingTel still has some way to go before it can win over the hearts of naysayers.

Top-class programming and a guarantee that subscription costs will not go up over the next two years must be delivered, if the telco giant is to entice more followers to the mio TV camp.

Interactivity and a convergence of TV, Internet and mobile devices are already offered by current rights-holders StarHub, and SingTel - to paraphrase their CEO Allen Lew - must up the game.

The ability to offer matches on-demand 24/7 is already a huge boon for sleep-challenged fans who may not want to wake up at 2am to catch a live mid-week game.

Adding other key content like weekly match highlights to the list of on-demand programmes will surely be a popular move.

On the hosting front, SingTel is expected to outshine the incumbent, seeing how the likes of Joe Morrison were widely-panned for their lack of chutzpah (Guest analyst John Burridge, on the other hand, had too much of it).

But bringing back the effervescent John Dykes isn't enough - adding credible and well-spoken Asian voices to a genre dominated by Caucasian hosts and ex-players would make for more diverse and interesting viewing.

Notwithstanding Shebby Singh, SingTel would do well to emulate what Star Sports has done with its Formula One programmes, where Asian commentators and hosts like Paula Malai and Alex Yoong mingle comfortably with the likes of Steve Dawson.

By making the EPL product more local - without sacrificing production values - SingTel has a chance to make the pre-match and half-time shows less of an onerous experience than they are now.

Another strategy to woo fans is put the power of the remote back into their hands.

How many times have you rushed home to catch a game, only to miss the opening goal that was scored in the 2nd minute? Even for the impatient fan, replays are only guaranteed at half-time.

SingTel could change the game by putting goal replays for every ongoing match on demand. Other significant match events, like a red card or a penalty miss could be added to the list.

In short, SingTel has to make the $23 that fans will be paying each month seem like a steal.

But the deal-breaker will come after the first season, when SingTel may decide to up subscription charges, bearing in mind that the company probably paid over the top to beat StarHub to the prize and will want to recoup its investment.

Such a move, while pragmatic and pleasing to shareholders, will alienate even more fans, many of whom have already vowed to turn to free Internet streaming sites for their EPL diet.

Over to you, SingTel.

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HE WAS the Great White Shark of golf. She the Ice Maiden of tennis. For 15 months, they were married and blissfully happy.

Less than a week ago came the announcement that Greg Norman and wife Chris Evert had split up. It was the Australian's second marriage and the American’s third.

What went wrong, many who heard the news would have asked. What a shame, they seemed so happy, more would have sighed.

But was it really surprising? Were there collective gasps as people heard the news or did shoulders shrug and heads nod in a knowing way?

After all, with the exception of what one colleague calls "a freakish marriage" between Andre and Steffi, it is a struggle to think of successful athlete-athlete unions.

Owen Slot of The Times says such pairings fascinate him. His point is a valid one – successful athletes are inevitably selfish and self-centred.

Even more so when it involves individual sports like golf or tennis where things like teamwork and cooperation are often overlooked.

On the fairways or courts, ambition and success demand a drive that is as narrow and singular as the number one.

Norman spent 331 weeks as the world’s top golfer, winning two Majors. Evert finished the year ranked No.1 five times and her 18 Grand Slams is only bettered by Steffi Graf and Margaret Court.

One incredulous story that has been widely circulated tells of how the pair could not even agree on whose house they were going to live in.

If home is indeed where the heart is, then this absence of affection after 15 months of moving back and forth is perhaps inevitable.

Perhaps dealing with egos both on and off the courts was just too toxic for a happy household.

But there are exceptions. Married life seems to agree with Roger Federer. But that is not surprising – most things, including gravity when hitting a tennis ball, seem to agree with the Swiss ace.

His wife, Mirka Vavrinec, is a former tennis player who now acts as his public relations manager. It is a relationship bereft of domineering personalities and maybe that is what makes a successful marriage.

But having the spotlight shine solely on one partner can be debilitating. Evert's first husband was John Lloyd, a former British tennis player who could not deal with being Mr Chris Evert.

Said his coach Dennis Ralston of the pair's whirlwind engagement: "John was a little awed when he and Chrissie married. He was overwhelmed by it all."

Even fairytale romances between athletes do not have the requisite Hollywood endings. It was love at first sight when American hammer thrower Harold Connolly met Czechoslovakian discus thrower Olga Fikotova at the 1956 Olympic Games in Melbourne.

They married soon after the Games, though not without difficulties. Fikotova was accused of being a traitor by the communist authorities in her country and her marriage to an American spelt the end of her career in Czechoslovakia.

The marriage did not last however and they divorced in 1973.

It was a similar story with American sprinter Marion Jones who married her college track coach C J Hunter in 1998. A drug scandal involving Hunter in the run-up to the 2000 Olympics in Sydney led to cracks in the marriage. The couple divorced two years later with Jones blaming the scandal for their failed marriage.

Often, athletes talk about finding the zone when they excel. Pete Sampras called it "The Gift". When he began his decline he said that it had simply disappeared, not knowing how or why.

Perhaps marriages among athletes are like that. They can only be in that ideal zone for short time before it evades them again.

There are no perfect marriages, no perfect relationships. But some do come close to achieving a perfect score.

Retired gymnast Bart Conner once said of his wife of 13 years Nadia Comaneci: "Most guys brag that their wives are a 10. My wife IS the 10."

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I WENT to the Singapore Grand Prix last Sunday and totally lapped up the turbocharged entertainment value.

I am not really an F1 fanatic so I had at best a passing interest in the action on the tracks as the cars whizzed by in their high-pitch glory.

Actually, my attention was mostly riveted by other stuff happening round me.

A big draw was the timing - at night - which made for a pleasant sporting excursion. The lucky organisers also had a free backdrop of lit skyscrapers and twinkling stars in the sky.

A nice gentle breeze swirled in from Marina Bay whose waters were dotted with luxury yachts.

There was magic in the air and everything coalesced in a stirring mix of sight, sound and lights.

Which makes me think — given our heat and humidity — more outdoor sporting events in Singapore should really be held at night.

That's also when most people are free to come and watch, and the cooler air does not sap the sportsmen too much, guaranteeing better performances.

A few months ago, I caught a couple of football matches at the Asian Youth Games in the afternoon. The heat was stifling even though I was at the covered grandstands in Jalan Besar Stadium.

Next year, the Youth Olympic Games (YOG) will roll round, and the winning sports entertainment formula from the F1 race should be replicated.

Can outdoor events — especially those on weekends — be held at night for athletics, football and so on?

Our stadia already come with floodlights so the infrastructure is there. And our transport system runs late into the night to fetch the crowds home.

The cost of lighting will be higher but so would ticket receipts. And it's always good to get a bigger cheering crowd than have pockets of people scattered in the stands.

The cooler night air also brings lifestyle opportunities.

The grounds outside the stadia can host concerts, parties or food fests — certainly on weekends — after the sports is done for the day or night.

The F1 event came with exclusive parties and gigs. I am sure we can get sports celebs and former sports greats to grace the YOG too.

Singaporeans love the big names. When basketball star Kobe Bryant came recently, a full house thronged the Indoor Stadium to watch him shoot hoops.

People must be made to feel excited about more than what’s at play in the sports arena.

The competition to engage their patronage is fierce — given the plethora of options — but as the F1 formula shows, a lot can be done to rev up interest.

Folks overseas also need more reasons to come here and give the economy a fillip.

Which means the YOG cannot be mostly a standalone sports event.

Make it a grander celebration, make it a feast for the senses and Singapore will surely score a gold in sports entertainment.

Do you think more sporting events should be held at night? Leave your comments below.

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ONLY the most passionate Formula One fan would do something like this: Buy an antique racing car, stick his favourite team's colours on it and display it around Singapore to whip up Grand Prix excitement.

Pramodh Raja, an events executive with the Singapore Cricket Association and a national cricket team player, did just that from Tuesday to Saturday.

He placed his prized possession -- a 1940s Ferrari replica model -- on a rented pick-up and drove to "areas where there are a lot of people" to garner support for Force India.

F1 supporter with replica of 1943 car.
ST PHOTO: Lim Sin Thai

"People were curious, and wanted to find out more about the race and Force India," said the 29-year-old. "No one laughed at me.

"I though I had to do something for Force India because it is a young team and I wanted to appreciate and acknowledge the effort put in by its owner Vijay Mallya. I have been a fan of his for many years."

(Mallya is an Indian drinks and aviation billionaire, who also owns the Indian Premier League cricket team Bangalore Royal Challengers. He has a house in Singapore.)

Cricket is Raja's primary passion. But he has become an F1 buff since the first night race was held here last year.

A month ago, he spotted a dust-covered replica racing car -- one-sixth the size of an actual F1 car -- at an antique shop on Serangoon Road. He bought it for $1,000.

He did not want to spoil the original colours. So he put Force India stickers on the car.

Then, as the Formula One fever swept the Republic, he hired a Nissan pick-up for $40 a day and went about garnering support for the fledgling F1 team, who are lying ninth among the 10 teams.

F1 supporter with replica of 1943 car.
ST PHOTO: Lim Sin Thai

F1 supporter with replica of 1943 car.
ST PHOTO: Lim Sin Thai

"I like Mallya because he named the team after a nation," said Raja. "Other teams have the company's name."

The slogans draped on the sides of the pick-up are: "Mallya we are with you", "Support Force India" and "Mallya all the way".

So, how are Force India going to fare in this year's Singapore Grand Prix?

"I have this feeling they will come in the top three," said Raja.

Now, that's the kind of fan F1 supremo Bernie Ecclestone is looking for: Passionate about his team to the core.

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IN THE well-oiled world of Formula One, most drivers are media-trained to death, have an entourage organising their lives and are each seen as a mini coporation.

But scrape beneath that PR-gloss, there is at least one old-school driver, with his own rules, his own character and his own mysterious ways.

Give Kimi Raikkonen a rabbit to chase and that is all that he cares about.

Forget about the niceties, the PR drivel and mountains of technical information, the Finn just wants to race and nothing else.

This is a point he made in Singapore.

He showed up at sponsor events and walked the track wearing a red Ferrari shirt, camouflaged bermudas and slippers combo on Friday.

He mumbled when asked about Crashgate and his future with the Scuderia but his answer is clear: He has nothing much to say simply because he is not Nelson Piquet Junior/Pat Symonds/Flavio Briatore and nothing official has come from Ferrari on his rumoured departure.

Raikkonen, who has said that he will give his best at SingTel Singapore Grand Prix, tempered his statement when he explained his current poor form — it is the machine that takes the blame.

This is a point he made at a Shell event at ION Orchard, a comment he repeated again at St James Power Station, where he appeared at a Puma party.

Ferrari will not be pleased to hear that but chances are, he probably doesn't care.

This is a man so laidback that on his F1 debut for Sauber in 2001 at the Australian Grand Prix, he was asleep 30 minutes before the race before he went on to score a championship point at the age of 21.

Six years later, he almost fell asleep inside his scarlet machine at the same event.

Ferrari engineers struggle to comprehend him as the team radio would go silent, only for it to be broken by Raikkonen's whispers.

Only one man in the garage understood what those short, clipped sentences meant — Andrea Stella, an engineer.

Thus, the "Kimi-translator" was promoted to be Raikkonen's personal race engineer as the conduit between pilot and pit wall.

That is a topic from The Straits Times that brought a smile for longer than usual from the dude they dub "Iceman".

See, he is not that arrogant, ignorant snob some have tried to paint him out to be. Beyond the deadpan, this is a man who knows how to joke.

Somebody once asked what his tires felt like. "Rolled as usual," he replied, poker-faced as usual.

When Lewis Hamilton described his first F1 win as "better than having sex". Raikkonen's simply was: "Maybe he never had sex."

He may not be a quote machine. But sometimes, less is more.

Read more:
Iceman keeps cool
Brawns quickest in 1st practice
Mallya plans to be in Singapore points
Smooth operator

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SPORTS journalists usually have to go out to meet athletes and newsmakers.

So when an F1 driver makes an hour-long pit stop at The Straits Times for an interview and a lap around the newsroom, it is a rare occasion. Reporters working on stories hit the brakes. Some take a peek, while others take second Is-that-an-F1-driver-I'm-seeing glances.

When that driver is Kazuki Nakajima, it is also a privilege, because this man we often see behind the wheel and underneath a helmet is one of the most down-to-earth sportsmen you will ever meet.

Sports correspondent Rohit Brijnath showing Nakajima around the newsroom.
ST PHOTOS: JOYCE FANG

For someone who is in an industry where every millisecond counts, the 24-year-old Williams driver gladly lends you his time.

Got a question? Fire away.

He is happy to talk about any topic - from what he can cook to the influence his father Satoru, a former Formula One driver, has on his career.

More often than not, reporters pick up on an interviewees' willingness to open up.

Clearly one of my colleagues, Hafiz, did -- as evident in him waving a piece of paper that reads "Ask about his girlfriend" midway through the interview. Our sports correspondent Rohit did just that.

Some athletes might scowl when you ask them about their private lives. Not Kazuki.

Rohit and Nakajima sit down for an interview at the newsroom's Sports section.

Broach on the topic and the Japanese smiles and tells us about his other half, and how she does not travel with him so that he can concentrate fully on the race.

Yes, he is taken. Although that did not stop some of his female fans in the office from asking for autographs and photos. (Well, even the men stepped forward.) Unsurprisingly, he obliges with a smile.

ST reporters take a break from work to get autographs.

One could argue that it is easier to engage a rookie or a rising star (he made his F1 debut in 2007) than a world champion, whom everyone wants a piece of -- the media, the sponsors, the fans.

But it is still refreshing to meet athletes who have no airs about them.

Rohit shows Nakajima the job of a journalist; in exchange Nakajima will show Rohit what he does at the paddock.

For the likes of Roger Federer and Lorena Ochoa, it is not just skill but personality and character that win the respect of their compatriots and rivals alike. It is why fans and young kids watching their favourite stars on television do not just want to play like them, but be like them.

Every sport needs ambassadors. And when they come along, their presence is certainly worth lapping up.

Read more about Nakajima's visit to the newsroom in Thursday's edition of The Straits Times.

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I haven't shouted like a maniac for ages while watching a football game on TV at home.

I often let out a strong but short 'yeah' when goals are scored but I rarely drag out the euphoric exhilaration in G-O–O–O-A-A-A-A–L-L-L.

But I screamed long and loud last Sunday night when Manchester United played Manchester City.

It was a good game, made even better when Michael Owen came on as a substitute for the last 15 minutes.

I have followed his fame - and famine - over the years, from his days at Liverpool, when he zipped past defenders regularly to score, to his wasteland of a time stuck at sorry Newcastle.

He's with Man U now but, in his Liverpool prime, I recalled he curled a superb shot past Fabian Barthez, then tending goal for Man U.

I like Owen, not only for his poaching skills, but also for his stoicism to live to fight another day in the face of adversity.

Plenty of folks have written him off over the years. They said he had lost his speed, composure and finishing.

In Real Madrid, where he played after he left Liverpool, his star had started dimming. He often came on as a substitute but still managed to score regularly.

In Newcastle, he was often injured or played among woeful teammates. Often he looked lost and forlorn on the field, and I always wished he would get a break, any break.

Life’s often like that outside the football field too - it is littered with obstacles - but if you do not cave in, like Owen, well, there’s always a chance to reap some rewards.

Indeed, that was what happened last Sunday.

Owen actually hasn’t been used much by Man U too since he joined. On Sunday, he came on only towards the tail-end.

I think he did not have a touch of the ball until that magical moment in the 95th minute.

He controlled a magnificent ball from veteran Ryan Giggs, to slot it home and spark off his gleeful run along the sidelines.

No, he was not taunting the City fans, who I am sure would not have begrudged Owen’s moment of salvation, even redemption, though at their expense.

Some of them would have understood.

Owen had just scored one for the everyman, the romantic, the dreamer, anyone who has had doors slammed in his face for being supposedly useless, old, silly or unhip.

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THE saying goes something like this: A bad day of fishing is still better than a good day at the office.

Fortunately for me, I was able to put this saying to the test – and spend Monday and Tuesday on a fishing trip in Kuala Rompin in Pahang, Malaysia.

The waters off Rompin are one of the world’s top destinations for sailfish sport fishing.

The Royal Pahang Billfish International Challenge, held since 2004, was organised last month. Last year, 144 participants from more than 10 countries descended upon the sleepy town on Malaysia's South-east coast.

Sport fishing is an interesting activity, perhaps even unique when you think about it. The angler spends hours battling with the fish, locked in a war of attrition akin to playing Rafael Nadal on the Parisian clay – sweat and patience your only companions.

Victory is also never guaranteed. So many different things can and do go wrong. The hook may bend and straighten due to the tremendous force exerted from both sides and the fish is freed.

Or the fishing line, taut with tension as man and fish engage in a tug-of-war, might snap and the fish escapes.

Or the line might be cut in rocks underwater as the fish struggles successfully for its life.

But even in triumph there is no prize, no trophy to clasp your hands around and hold aloft. The catch is released back into the waters for another angler to pit his wits against.

It seems a rather counter-intuitive pursuit, one where there appears to be no objective proof of success.

But it was only after taking on a seven-foot long, 65kg sailfish together with my brother and eventually overcoming it that I realised that I was wrong.

There is a prize at the end. It is just not something tangible that you can cradle in your arms or pose with as the lightbulbs flash around you.

In the end, it was not about the size of the fish or how long it took you to reel it in. The fish, cast in the supporting role to the angler, is soon forgotten.

But what it symbolises, the herculean effort of man over animal, is enough for the angler. Validation comes not in the form of a sailfish mounted in your study room but simply the memory of a warm afternoon on a boat in the South China Sea.

Perhaps it's like that in other sports too.

Almost every sport rewards its victors with a symbolic keepsake – a championship ring in America, a green jacket in golf, a gold cup in football or a wooden urn in cricket.

Yet such souvenirs can easily be misplaced or forgotten.

India's first individual Olympic gold medallist shooter Abhinav Bindra, says that after having the medal hung around his neck comes the realisation that it is just a metal disk.

"It's the entire journey that motivates you; what you put into winning it, that's really what you remember," he elaborates.

An athlete does not need a ring or a jacket to remember the months of sacrifice, the hours of training and preparation, the monk-like dedication that is demanded.

When then-Chelsea manager Jose Mourinho won his second English Premier League title in 2006, he celebrated by throwing his medal into the crowd at Stamford Bridge.

He later explained that the first medal was enough for him. "I want only one. I cannot keep everything I have," he said.

On Monday, a group of three elderly men arrived in Rompin for some sport fishing. According to one, they were planning to stay for 10 days (each day spending almost 12 hours out at sea) to catch sailfish before releasing them back into the waters.

It is the thrill of the competition they are after, as your heart races and your mind struggles to keep calm.

At the end of the 10 days, they would most likely return home with their icebox bare of any catch. But they would certainly not be leaving empty-handed.

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THE furore over Singapore Airline's sponsorship of a New Zealand side at the recent World Dragon Boat Championships has raised the hackles of some Singaporeans.

But to criticise the airline for not funding the Republic's youth team instead may not be the fairest thing to do.

Questions must be raised about how the sport is run and what kind of official funding, if any, was made available to the young dragon boaters in the first place.

Singapore's junior Dragon Boat team in training. ST PHOTO

Mr Dennis Tan, the father of one of the Singapore rowers, painted an emotive picture of how he and his child struggled to raise money for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, only to be confronted by a Kiwi team emblazoned with the SIA logo at the event.

His disappointment is heartfelt, if not understandable.

Earlier this week, I spoke to officials from the Singapore Dragon Boat Association (SDBA), a national sports body which had previously only made the news after five national rowers perished in a tragic accident in Cambodia two years ago.

The SDBA's stark financial reality is this: As one of the 10 sports ranked in the fourth tier of the Singapore Sports Council's annual funding review, they receive between $100,000 to $200,000 from government coffers each year.

Sending the 49 student rowers to Prague for the World Championships would have drained these funds completely.

To be fair, the SDBA boasts two big-hitting sponsors: Singapore Pools and the Singapore Tourism Board.

But it is not known how much the two organisations contribute to the sport in terms of actual cash.

What we do know is that the SDBA can only afford to upkeep a senior national team and that all it did was to "endorse" the juniors' participation at the World Championships.

For a sport which has now delivered international honours, it is criminal to simply continue giving young talented rowers a pat on their back and sending them on their way — without forking out a single cent.

The SDBA needs to regroup and find a way to maintain a formal national youth squad, and not rely on schools, parents and students to do the hard work for them.

They also need to take a more aggressive approach to securing sponsorship — witness how sports like netball produce glossy brochures and customised marketing proposals to woo potential sponsors.

Armed with a world title and a little more marketing savvy, it shouldn't be too hard to make sponsors — even those at SIA — to sit up and take notice.

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IT IS that time of the season again, when footballers are done playing musical chairs. Yes, the EPL transfer deadline is up and some players who had been eyeing a move have gotten their wish.

Joleon Lescott finally completed his move to Manchester City from Everton with time to spare. But as history has proved, the decision to join a more ambitious club has not always worked out well for a player.

Here's a look at five such transfers, in decending order of success.

5. Scott Parker
Parker left Charlton Athletic for Chelsea in a controversial manner in 2004. Sure, he ended up winning the league (04/05 season) and made a semi-final appearance in the Champions League with the Blues. But the more telling statistics are these: He started one game and made three substitute appearances for Chelsea in his second season with the club. Quite a nightmare for a "dream move".

4. Robbie Keane
He returned to Tottenham just six months after leaving for boyhood club Liverpool. Rafael Benitez saw Keane net only five goals in 19 league appearances for the Reds and decided to "cut losses". Apparently, so did Keane.

3. David Bentley
Bentley drove off to Tottenham from Blackburn Rovers in 2008, but has never found top gear since. After establishing himself as one of the top right midfielders in the country with his performances at Ewood Park - even earning a place in the England set-up - Bentley will now have to be content with a place on the bench at White Hart Lane. Needless to say, the lack of starts will do his international career no good prior to the World Cup next year.

2. Kevin Nolan
Sitting comfortably above the relegation zone with Bolton Wanderers (for most seasons, anyway) proved too boring for Nolan. The decision to join Newcastle United at the start of this year proved "impossible to turn down". Well, at least he now knows what it's like to be at the top of the table - of the Championship division anyway.

1. Michael Owen
Owen left Liverpool for, in his words, the best team in the world in 2004. In Spain, he was mainly employed as a substitute in a trophy-less season at the Bernabeu. Meanwhile, Liverpool ended their season with Champions League glory. Ouch!

If ever there were cautionary tales that the grass is not always greener on the other side, these players have provided them.

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