By Zendrea Tan (19S03M), Vice-captain and Matthew Lim (19S03H), Vice-captain
“Huh, what is softball?” That’s the question that most softballers face when they introduce their CCA. Indeed, softball is a complicated sport with many rules, but ask any friendly softballer and we will gladly introduce you to the sport that we enjoy so much.
By Edmund Zhang (19S06S), Quarter Master
While the football boys aren’t exactly known to have the sharpest minds out there, don’t let the cheery, happy-go-lucky exterior fool you. Trainings are intense and serious, with the basic expectation that everyone puts in their 100% and pushes themselves. Don’t be surprised to see the footballers putting in the extra work, be it with self-trainings or going for runs. With our motto “Belief, Desire, Teamwork”, all footballers are expected to put in their all in trainings and matches to bring out the best in themselves and their teammates.
By Judo Batch of 2019
From RI’s Y5-6 campus, you take a wrong turn and wander into the unfamiliar (or once familiar) territory of the Y1-4 campus, lured by these mysterious groups of people carrying what seems to be bathrobes (also known as a judo gi).
By Donovan Lim (19S03Q), Captain
Few CCAs in JC provide play, laughter and joy. Fewer CCAs in JC allow you to develop your own skills at your own leisurely pace, while providing you with the resources and the opportunity to do so without any pressure to win any trophies or meet any targets except the ones you set for yourself (other than 70% attendance of course). Even fewer CCAs have a rather large member base, allowing you to get to know many different individuals of various backgrounds. But only one such CCAs is a sports CCA.
Hint: Recreational Badminton.
By Aaron Tan (19A01B)
Like a tuna in a tin can, the man rattles in his metallic prison. We see nothing but his tortured face, stifled by shadow, all at once a blur and a clatter, the force of nearly four Gs pressing skin into bone—we hear nothing but the oppressive jangle of loose parts, the monstrous roar of the rocket engine, the altimeter’s tick-tick-tick, counting up thirty, a hundred, two hundred thousand feet. Up, up he soars, past the clouds (his breath is laboured), piercing the stratosphere (the rattling persists) to the edge of light and darkness, clawing at the gates of the final frontier.
