Olympics and my dad

The second hand struck 8.08 pm and fireworks set off what is officially the first Olympics in Chinese soil. After so many years or bidding and doing what they can, it has finally reached the middle kingdom. It is a great honour for all Chinese people especially those in Beijing, who has toiled and work tirelessly over the past few years. When the ceremony started, I couldn't contain my elated sense of proudness and my happiness.

I am Chinese and it's not unreasonable to say that I am happy to the brink of tearing on this momentus occasion. I don't know why I shed tears but maybe it's the sense that at least we, Chinese are somewhere. It was just over 60 years back when we were being vilified as "Sick men of Asia". I am sure people who has watched Bruce Lee's "Fist of Fury" would know what I am talking about.

I reflected on the fact that, if my dad is alive, he would be brimming with joy, smiling and grining not to mention jumping around elated. Whenever he speaks of China, the country where he was born and raised, he would be so proud. I could scarcely remember my old man, it's been so long. He passed on when i was 13. I have written a lot on my mum but for my dad, I reckon I'd write more in time, but back to the Olympics.

I wish all the participants all the best of luck, and to the organisers, I am so proud of all of you, you all have indeed made the opening a spectaculat Gala, with Zhang Yi Mou helming the direction of the opening. We are no longer the "Sick men" no more. To those that is making an issue out of Tibet and what not, please do remember that the Olympic movement transcends nationality, polical, religious and racial divide.

May the best man/ woman wins! let the games begin!