If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
It is these wise words of Kipling I am trying to follow as I sit here in my room, nursing yet another cold, and struggling to put the disappointment of the weekend behind me.
Let's give this some context.
The Blue:
Sportsmen and women at the University of Cambridge may be awarded a Full Blue (or simply a Blue), Half Blue, First Team Colours or Second Team Colours for competing at the highest level of university sport, which must include being in a Varsity match or race against the University of Oxford. A Full Blue is the highest honour that may be bestowed on a Cambridge sportsman or woman, and is a much-coveted and prestigious prize. In general, the Full Blue standard is approximately that of being successful at a national level of student competition, and the Half Blue standard is that of being successful at county or regional level.
The process for obtaining a Blue for Badminton is simple - finish in the Round of 16 at the National University Badminton Tournament (known as the BUCS Individuals), and then play in Varsity.
Well, the weekend just gone marked the date of the aforementioned tournament, and looking back, disappointment aside, what a ride it was.
My partner and I have been playing together for two years now, having formed the pairing in my 2nd year. Each year, we have been entered in the BUCS Individuals. In our first year, we got knocked out in the 1st Round. Last year, we progressed to Round 2, only to lose to a pair from Swansea in 3 games after dominating them early on.
During that period, we also played in the Varsity 1st team, which gave us both a half-blue each.
I was happy with that accolade, and seeing as neither of us were of national standard, the award seemed to reflect our level quite well.
We went into this tournament with few expectations - our goal simply was to progress one round further than we had previously.
My tournament began on the Friday morning, setting off at 7.45am with the Mens Singles players. We arrived in Nottingham at the sports centre with plenty of time for the sign-ups, and I soaked in the atmosphere as teams from all over the country convened on the sports multi-plex. There is something special about the atmosphere at a Badminton tournament to me; the hum of the players chatting in the waiting areas, the squeaks of shoes on the courts, the shouts of jubilation and despair, sounds of well struck shuttles (they make a very satisfying "bang" when you hit them cleanly), the sounds of the PA system ringing out match announcements, and of course, the loud cheers of the supporters.
I wish I could play in more tournaments.
Friday saw two of our singles players progress through to the Saturday (meaning thay had each won 2 matches). It also saw two of our mixed pairs progress too - a fantastic performance.
We went to bed that night a mostly satisfied team.
Saturday morning saw the beginning of the Men's Doubles tournament. This year, there had been more entries for Men's Doubles than ever before, resulting in a draw which was 256 wide. This meant that a lot of players had gotten Byes into the 2nd round, however, we didn't.
Our first match was against a pair from Gloucester. As we stepped onto court, around 3pm in the afternoon, my nerves were jangling badly - they always do for the first match of a tournament.
I don't really remember the details of that first match, save that I was tense, and threw away quite a few points with mistakes. However, my partner kept his composure, and we pulled through comfortably in the end 21-16, 21-18.
Our second match came up shortly after, and, having broken the duck as it were, I was much more relaxed. We recognised one of our adversaries as someone we had played (and beaten before), and we played our game with confidence to take another comfortable win 21-14, 21-18.
We were in the Round of 64 - where we had gotten to last year, with one more match to win to reach our goal.
Our next match was called, but because of the terrible acoustics in the hall, we couldn't hear our names. This led to us making it to the court in the nick of time; another minute later and we would have been scratched from the tournament. The late arrival meant we were left with hardly any time to warm up properly. However, we approached the match with a good mindset, and easily took the first game 21-12.
Our opponents responded in the next game. I can't really remember the details of it, but we lost it 11-21.
We refocused however, and in the third end matched them point for point until it was something around 12 all. At that point, I sensed a change in their mentality; it was as if they had lost the fight - they were slower to the shuttle and felt a lot less aggressive. I knew at that point we had won. We ended up taking the game 21-13.
We were through to Sunday, to face the 9/16 seeds, and were absolutely ecstatic. We had reached our tournament goal, and reached the Round of 32.
As we were called onto Court 7 for our match on Sunday morning, I didn't feel nervous at all - only excited. There were no expectations on our shoulders; they were the seeded pair, we were the underdogs.
The first match got underway after a short period of warming up. It was a slow start from both pairs, however, as the points were won and lost, we realised we were keeping up with them.
We kept the pressure up, by being very aggressive and coming into the net as fast as possible. They had a good defence for smashes, but seemed to be unable to deal with the fast game coming from the front of the net and when under pressure, they kept making mistakes by lifting too short, or wide.
We began to pull ahead towards the end of the game, and took what felt like quite a comfortable 21-17 win. I think we were playing some of the best Badminton we had ever played, given the occasion.
At the interval my partner and I turned to each other.
"We can do this," I said, "Come on, let's step it up, we're out for blood."
He nodded at me. This was our chance.
As the second game began, we tried to play the same aggressive way we had in the first, but it wasn't working. Our adversaries had changed their tactics, and instead chose to slow the pace down, they made sure their lifts were high and deep, and we had trouble breaking their defence. They would make counter-attacks off our smashes and we would be put on the defensive immediately, which is how you lose at Men's Doubles.
Indeed, their tactic switch was so successful that at one point we trailed 15-6. However, once we realised what their plan was, we changed the way we played too, choosing not to go on the all-out offensive. Instead we mixed in some punch clears and deceptive drops to move them out of position before smashing for the win. Unfortunately, we were too far behind to make much of a comeback, and lost the second game 12-21.
And so, we entered the deciding set. We started the 3rd set on even terms with them, and we matched them point for point. Neither pair were able to open up a lead until the interval, however, we discovered that one of the players had a lot of trouble returning smashes across his body, and focused our attacking efforts on him. Unfortunately, they had also figured out that I was quite weak at returning drives down the middle from the serve and used that advantage to pressure our serve a lot.
However, we still managed to open up a 2 point gap at the interval. The score was 11-9 as we switched ends. The second half saw a repeat of the first half, with both sides very evenly matched, some great tactical rallies were played as both sides had a very good defence compared with the other side's attack, so it was down to who could manoeuvre the other pair around to get a kill from the mid-court or the net.
We proved to be the better at this game, and as the match got towards the business end, we were leading 19-17.
Two points. A full blue was only two points away. The nerves suddenly gripped me.
I don't remember exactly how the last four points played out, but it went something like this:
They served, and we got on the attack, I smashed, and they defended with a very deep lift. I left it, perhaps a part of me wishing that it would go out, the shuttle landed an inch in. 19-18.
My partner turned to me.
"We just need one more point."
If we had gotten to 20, we would have put them under tremendous pressure.
The next point, I tried to attack off their serve, and ended up pushing the shuttle just long. This let the score go to 19-19.
Another serve, another short rally. I don't remember what happened, but this gave them match point. 19-20.
It was my receive of serve. As I stepped up to receive, my heart hammered in my chest - this was the do or die moment. I had pushed several service returns into the net before, and also one just long. I knew that if I lifted, it would probably end badly - I had to make the return flat.
He served, and I made a good flat drive. Our opponents returned with another good drive, which my partner pushed in a drop. However, the other pair were onto the net faster - perhaps sensing their opportunity, and managed to push the shuttle past me deep into the backhand corner. My partner tried to scramble to lift it clear, but unfortunately it went into the net.
21-19. Game over.
I forced a smile as I shook their hands. I felt numb inside - I couldn't really comprehend what had happened. It was only on the drive back that it sank in, we were two points away, and we choked.
Now, I know right now I am in a world of disappointment, and probably will be for a few days, but I am still immensely proud of what we have achieved.
Without wishing to dramatise, and looking back on the weekend now, what happened was like an Olympic moment for me. I doubt that I will ever take part in such a high level tournament ever again (the top seeds in the tournament are all ex junior national and international players), let alone make it through to the last 32. We played out of our skins all weekend, and although we were favoured by a good draw, we still had to play good Badminton to advance. And it wasn't like we were completely outmatched at the end; we had the skill in our hands but just lacked a slight amount of mental composure (or at least I did, I don't know how my partner felt).
For me, it feels like that although we didn't take home the gold, we got the silver; I can be happy with that.
I kept one of the shuttles that we practised with in the squash courts prior to the match, and I've written the scores of our last match on the cork.
It's not something I'll forget.
22 November 2010
13 November 2010
Day 5
Writing a blog about how busy a Cambridge term is doesn't work if you are too busy to write it.
Or maybe that fact alone conveys more than I could ever say using words?
Anyway...
Fear not, this series of "A week in the life of..." will be completed, however, as you'll probably have noticed, my original plan of writing one blog post a day has sort of slipped.
However, we shall continue on, for in the land of blog, it is now Day 5.
Before I start the meat of this post, I would like to say that these views are perhaps not representative of some Engineers, who have god given problem solving skills and may in fact be the pan-dimensional beings mentioned in the Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy. So take from this what you will.
Examples papers.
They are to undergraduate engineers what the stone blocks of the pyramids were to the Egyptian slaves. Under the metaphorical whips of our supervision timetable, we engineers slave deep into the night pondering the answers to questions which we were told we can do, but, really, actually, cannot.
Group a collection of engineers together, and the topic of conversation will assuredly arrive at these A4-ified incarnations of hell. As if it wasn't enough not to be able to do them, we then have to talk about them during our free time because well, we haven't done anything else in the last x number of days and so, that is the only topic of conversation at hand.
To be honest though, at first glance, they appear to be harmless; only a few sides of A4 printed with a collection of an average of 10 questions. However, therein lies the first subtle warning; easy questions do not take pages of A4 space.
Unfortunately, there is no second warning. It's like driving on a motorway and seeing a little blinking yellow light at the side of the road. And then you crash into a giant mound of poo.
If you ever pick up one of these examples sheets, you may be tempted to tell me that it's not all bad - they have some easy questions (marked by a cross), some normal questions, and then some hard questions (marked by a star) - sounds like a sensible progression.
Well, you'd be wrong. I actually interpret those question markers as being there to indicate how stupid I will feel when I subsequently can't do it, having put the heavy weight of expectation on my intellectually slender shoulders.
Cross - Absolute idiot. The exit is that way.
Normal Question - Lose some confidence in your abilities as an engineer.
Star - Well, its not too bad. You'll be made to look stupid in the supervision though.
Let's note here, when I say "Can't do it.", I don't mean having looked at the question and been unable to immediately come up with an answer, I mean having bashed my head at it for 3 hours...not literally though; that would be a less than optimal way of answering questions.
Now, one of these papers sounds bad enough. But actually in the course of a term, an Engineer will have to do roughly two or three a week (they can take anywhere from 5 hours to ∞), with supervisions, which are one hour sessions of two students to one supervisor, to make sure that you are keeping up. The sheer amount of work is compounded by the fact that very often, one will be doing these questions when hungover, or at 5am (my favourite time of the day) to be handed in the following morning - not exactly at the height of ones intellectual prowess.
Still, an all-nighter still beats peeing on work you've already done whilst drunk, and having to re-do it from scratch as the urine washed away all the ink.
I doff my proverbial hat to one of my friends, who has done just this.
Or maybe that fact alone conveys more than I could ever say using words?
Anyway...
Fear not, this series of "A week in the life of..." will be completed, however, as you'll probably have noticed, my original plan of writing one blog post a day has sort of slipped.
However, we shall continue on, for in the land of blog, it is now Day 5.
Before I start the meat of this post, I would like to say that these views are perhaps not representative of some Engineers, who have god given problem solving skills and may in fact be the pan-dimensional beings mentioned in the Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy. So take from this what you will.
Examples papers.
They are to undergraduate engineers what the stone blocks of the pyramids were to the Egyptian slaves. Under the metaphorical whips of our supervision timetable, we engineers slave deep into the night pondering the answers to questions which we were told we can do, but, really, actually, cannot.
Group a collection of engineers together, and the topic of conversation will assuredly arrive at these A4-ified incarnations of hell. As if it wasn't enough not to be able to do them, we then have to talk about them during our free time because well, we haven't done anything else in the last x number of days and so, that is the only topic of conversation at hand.
To be honest though, at first glance, they appear to be harmless; only a few sides of A4 printed with a collection of an average of 10 questions. However, therein lies the first subtle warning; easy questions do not take pages of A4 space.
Unfortunately, there is no second warning. It's like driving on a motorway and seeing a little blinking yellow light at the side of the road. And then you crash into a giant mound of poo.
If you ever pick up one of these examples sheets, you may be tempted to tell me that it's not all bad - they have some easy questions (marked by a cross), some normal questions, and then some hard questions (marked by a star) - sounds like a sensible progression.
Well, you'd be wrong. I actually interpret those question markers as being there to indicate how stupid I will feel when I subsequently can't do it, having put the heavy weight of expectation on my intellectually slender shoulders.
Cross - Absolute idiot. The exit is that way.
Normal Question - Lose some confidence in your abilities as an engineer.
Star - Well, its not too bad. You'll be made to look stupid in the supervision though.
Let's note here, when I say "Can't do it.", I don't mean having looked at the question and been unable to immediately come up with an answer, I mean having bashed my head at it for 3 hours...not literally though; that would be a less than optimal way of answering questions.
Now, one of these papers sounds bad enough. But actually in the course of a term, an Engineer will have to do roughly two or three a week (they can take anywhere from 5 hours to ∞), with supervisions, which are one hour sessions of two students to one supervisor, to make sure that you are keeping up. The sheer amount of work is compounded by the fact that very often, one will be doing these questions when hungover, or at 5am (my favourite time of the day) to be handed in the following morning - not exactly at the height of ones intellectual prowess.
Still, an all-nighter still beats peeing on work you've already done whilst drunk, and having to re-do it from scratch as the urine washed away all the ink.
I doff my proverbial hat to one of my friends, who has done just this.
7 November 2010
Day 3 & 4
I wanted to write a post for the weekend, detailing the outrageous activites of Cambridge students when there are no lectures (sorry Nat-Scis), and pass on some of the funny anecdotes I've heard over the years.
However, I spent most of Saturday working, and then drinking, and most of today having a hangover, which leaves me in a state unfit to write a lengthy humour filled blog post.
With that in mind, I instead thought to myself, "what would a love note be like if an electrical engineer wrote it?", and came up with the following travestic piece of literature.
Something happens when we touch.
The spark of chemistry.
Electrons of feeling, drifting back and forth between you and me. Net motion is zero, but somehow, it feels like a current is flowing.
I wish my heart was like a rechargeable battery, so I could store and cherish the warmth you send to me, saving it up for those cold evenings spent alone.
Unfortunately, it's more like a capacitor. I guess that just means you'll have to stay by my side always.
How do I feel about you?
It can be elucidated by three simple words.
However, I spent most of Saturday working, and then drinking, and most of today having a hangover, which leaves me in a state unfit to write a lengthy humour filled blog post.
With that in mind, I instead thought to myself, "what would a love note be like if an electrical engineer wrote it?", and came up with the following travestic piece of literature.
Something happens when we touch.
The spark of chemistry.
Electrons of feeling, drifting back and forth between you and me. Net motion is zero, but somehow, it feels like a current is flowing.
I wish my heart was like a rechargeable battery, so I could store and cherish the warmth you send to me, saving it up for those cold evenings spent alone.
Unfortunately, it's more like a capacitor. I guess that just means you'll have to stay by my side always.
How do I feel about you?
It can be elucidated by three simple words.
5 November 2010
Day 2
Morning routines.
My morning routines used to be quite simple when I was in school - get away with as much sleep as possible until my mum shouted at me to get up, and then rush my way out of the house in order not to miss the bus, which was always a 50/50 affair.
Now though, well, nothing has changed really, except I only have an alarm clock shouting at me, and I cycle, which means I can never really miss my mode of transport, but it does make me late to lectures more often than not.
The alarm clock always goes off 1 hour before the lectures start. I then spend 45 minutes attempting the task of getting up and getting washed. The remaining minutes go on getting dressed, cramming down a cereal bar and cycling furiously, though not at the same time.
Cycling in Cambridge is quite a lot of fun, especially if you have a bit of a bastard streak in you, and sometimes enjoy making pedestrians jump out of the way in fear (admit it, you do secretly like it!). That's not to say I swerve onto the pavements for the sole purpose of scattering innocent townspeople in my dash to the Engineering Department. Indeed, that would be rather counterproductive to the actual task of getting to lectures. It's just that, for a city where bike usage is so prevalent, pedestrians (even the would-be cyclists) do seem to be blissfully unaware of them most of the time.
One of my friends can attest to this fact, having taken out a fair few of them in his cycling career thus far.
With this in mind, I present the following question.
"If a cyclist, travelling at a speed of Very Fast, is a distance Very Close away from you when you step out into the road, will they be able to stop in time to avoid hitting you?"
Pose that question to anyone, and the answer will of course be a "No". However, people seem to stumble when it comes to actually applying this logic to crossing roads, instead favouring the technique of "If I don't look, then I won't see anything, and if I don't see anything, then it doesn't exist."
The person who invented the green cross code would probably be very cross indeed at the state of affairs in this city.
Anyway, cycling over, I arrive at lectures - usually in a sweaty mess, and that's how my day gets underway.
My morning routines used to be quite simple when I was in school - get away with as much sleep as possible until my mum shouted at me to get up, and then rush my way out of the house in order not to miss the bus, which was always a 50/50 affair.
Now though, well, nothing has changed really, except I only have an alarm clock shouting at me, and I cycle, which means I can never really miss my mode of transport, but it does make me late to lectures more often than not.
The alarm clock always goes off 1 hour before the lectures start. I then spend 45 minutes attempting the task of getting up and getting washed. The remaining minutes go on getting dressed, cramming down a cereal bar and cycling furiously, though not at the same time.
Cycling in Cambridge is quite a lot of fun, especially if you have a bit of a bastard streak in you, and sometimes enjoy making pedestrians jump out of the way in fear (admit it, you do secretly like it!). That's not to say I swerve onto the pavements for the sole purpose of scattering innocent townspeople in my dash to the Engineering Department. Indeed, that would be rather counterproductive to the actual task of getting to lectures. It's just that, for a city where bike usage is so prevalent, pedestrians (even the would-be cyclists) do seem to be blissfully unaware of them most of the time.
One of my friends can attest to this fact, having taken out a fair few of them in his cycling career thus far.
With this in mind, I present the following question.
"If a cyclist, travelling at a speed of Very Fast, is a distance Very Close away from you when you step out into the road, will they be able to stop in time to avoid hitting you?"
Pose that question to anyone, and the answer will of course be a "No". However, people seem to stumble when it comes to actually applying this logic to crossing roads, instead favouring the technique of "If I don't look, then I won't see anything, and if I don't see anything, then it doesn't exist."
The person who invented the green cross code would probably be very cross indeed at the state of affairs in this city.
Anyway, cycling over, I arrive at lectures - usually in a sweaty mess, and that's how my day gets underway.
4 November 2010
A Week in the Life of...
Part of the reason I started this blog was not only to have my own personal internet soapbox available to me again, but also to try and share what it is like to be a final year undergraduate at Cambridge University.
With those two thoughts in mind, it appears I haven't really done too much of the latter; something which I will attempt to rectify over the next week, but before I start spieling off stuff like that, I'd like you to note that my experiences are probably not representative of the average undergraduate experience, in fact, I have no idea what that would be. I just know that as an Engineer, I tend to work a lot harder, have a lot more 9 o'clock lectures, and probably drink more coffee than someone, say, studying Philosophy (they may make up this time with deep, wine fuelled discussions late at night though, so who am I to say?).
In Cambridge, the week actually begins on Thursday, which is why the first post of this series is posted when it is. So, this is the start of Week 5, commonly associated with something known as Week 5 blues. This occurs to people because Week 5 is generally the time when people have realised that shit has hit the fan work-wise (that happens usually in Week 4), tried to do something about it, and realised that the rate of them clearing the shit doesn't match up with the rate at which it's incoming. (Again, this applies to Engineering, and other proper subjects. Philosophy students can just carry on going to Cindies as normal).
So on my to-do list, it goes something like this:
Let's not forget time for sleeping and drinking too (not necessarily in that order).
Now, you might have read that list and thought to yourself "Compu...what now?", along with other synonymous expressions of confusion. It doesn't matter, you can replace those bits with "Complex Engineering Stuff the Author doesn't understand" without subtracting from the overall meaning one bit.
I would however, like to talk about the Eco Racing society a bit.
Cambridge University Eco Racing (www.cuer.co.uk) is a student run society attempting to build a solar car to race 3000km across Australia in October 2011, as part of the World Solar Challenge. I, somehow, have been made the Aerodynamics Team Leader for this attempt, which I find absolutely fantastic, a little scary, and very daunting all at the same time. Essentially, I am responsible for the design of the whole outer shape of the car, trying to make it as streamlined and slippery as possible. Also, if the car flies off the road, it will probably be my fault.
LOOK:
Now, granted, that won't happen to our car because of Aerodynamic gubbins that I do understand, but still, better not cock up.
More tomorrow!
With those two thoughts in mind, it appears I haven't really done too much of the latter; something which I will attempt to rectify over the next week, but before I start spieling off stuff like that, I'd like you to note that my experiences are probably not representative of the average undergraduate experience, in fact, I have no idea what that would be. I just know that as an Engineer, I tend to work a lot harder, have a lot more 9 o'clock lectures, and probably drink more coffee than someone, say, studying Philosophy (they may make up this time with deep, wine fuelled discussions late at night though, so who am I to say?).
In Cambridge, the week actually begins on Thursday, which is why the first post of this series is posted when it is. So, this is the start of Week 5, commonly associated with something known as Week 5 blues. This occurs to people because Week 5 is generally the time when people have realised that shit has hit the fan work-wise (that happens usually in Week 4), tried to do something about it, and realised that the rate of them clearing the shit doesn't match up with the rate at which it's incoming. (Again, this applies to Engineering, and other proper subjects. Philosophy students can just carry on going to Cindies as normal).
So on my to-do list, it goes something like this:
- Computational Fluid Dynamics Interim Report, due Wed 10th (not started).
- Transonic Wing Design Interim Report, due Tues 16th (not started).
- 4th Year Project Interim Progress Meeting, Mon 8th (doing okay!)
- Organise University Badminton Away to Worcester for Wed 10th
- Organise Aerodynamics Team for the Eco Racing society, ASAP!
Let's not forget time for sleeping and drinking too (not necessarily in that order).
Now, you might have read that list and thought to yourself "Compu...what now?", along with other synonymous expressions of confusion. It doesn't matter, you can replace those bits with "Complex Engineering Stuff the Author doesn't understand" without subtracting from the overall meaning one bit.
I would however, like to talk about the Eco Racing society a bit.
Cambridge University Eco Racing (www.cuer.co.uk) is a student run society attempting to build a solar car to race 3000km across Australia in October 2011, as part of the World Solar Challenge. I, somehow, have been made the Aerodynamics Team Leader for this attempt, which I find absolutely fantastic, a little scary, and very daunting all at the same time. Essentially, I am responsible for the design of the whole outer shape of the car, trying to make it as streamlined and slippery as possible. Also, if the car flies off the road, it will probably be my fault.
LOOK:
Now, granted, that won't happen to our car because of Aerodynamic gubbins that I do understand, but still, better not cock up.
More tomorrow!
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