I’m Nguyen Van Loc, and I hate sports.
Not in the casual “I don’t like running” way. I hate sports with religious intensity. The idea of sweating on purpose has always felt like a personal insult to my entire philosophy of life.
So when my company announced a mandatory “Health & Team Spirit” sports day, I did what any reasonable person would do.
I tried to disappear.
Unfortunately, my boss had other plans.
“Loc, you’re on the relay race team,” he said, smiling like a man who had never known suffering.
“I’d rather die,” I replied honestly.
“Perfect. Death is not an option. See you on the field.”
The day of the event arrived under a blazing sun. The company had rented a large sports field on the outskirts of Saigon. Hundreds of employees in matching ugly green T-shirts were stretching, jumping, and pretending they enjoyed physical activity.
I stood at the edge of the track, already regretting every life choice that led me here.
My teammate — a hyper-energetic girl named Ha — slapped a baton into my hand.
“You’re the last runner. Just don’t drop it, okay?”
I stared at the baton like it was a live grenade.
The race started.
The first three runners did their parts. When the baton reached me, the gap between our team and the others was… significant. We were dead last by about forty meters.
I sighed, tucked the baton under my arm like a loaf of bread, and began to jog.
Very slowly.
Halfway through my leg, my left shoelace came undone. Because I am who I am, I stopped completely, bent down, and started tying it.
The entire field went silent for a second.
Then chaos erupted.
Someone in the crowd yelled, “He’s taking a break mid-race!”
Another person shouted, “That’s actually kind of based!”
A third voice — I swear it was my boss — screamed, “Loc, what the hell are you doing?!”
While I was still crouched tying my shoe, the guy running for the finance team sprinted past me at full speed. In his excitement, he accidentally kicked a small rock on the track.
The rock flew in a perfect arc and hit the referee’s megaphone.
The megaphone, which was old and cheaply made, short-circuited with a loud pop and began blasting distorted music at maximum volume — specifically, the national sports anthem mixed with aggressive EDM.
The sudden noise startled a flock of pigeons that had been peacefully shitting on the bleachers. The birds exploded into the air in a swirling cloud of feathers and panic.
One pigeon, more traumatized than the rest, dive-bombed straight toward the VIP tent where the company directors were sitting. In its terror, it knocked over a large cooler filled with ice-cold energy drinks.
The cooler tipped.
Fifty bottles of bright blue “Ultra Power Boost” energy drink spilled across the grass and flowed directly onto the electrical cables powering the event’s sound system.
Sparks flew.
The distorted EDM anthem suddenly warped into something completely unhinged — a high-pitched, demonic version of the sports march that made everyone’s ears ring.
And then the real domino effect began.
The electric shock traveled through the wet grass and zapped several runners who were still on the track. Instead of collapsing, they got an insane burst of energy. Their eyes widened. Their legs moved at inhuman speed.
Within seconds, the relay race turned into something resembling a glitchy video game. People were sprinting so fast they were practically teleporting. One guy from accounting literally ran out of his shoes.
The referees tried to stop the madness, but the megaphone was now screaming: “FASTER! STRONGER! BECOME LEGEND!”
Ha, my teammate, grabbed my arm. “Loc! What did you do?!”
“I tied my shoelace,” I said flatly. “That’s literally all I did.”
The chaos reached its peak when the overcharged runners started running in circles, creating a human tornado on the field. Dust and grass flew everywhere. Someone started chanting “Loc! Loc! Loc!” as if I had planned this spectacle.
In the middle of the madness, the company director stood up on the VIP stage, his hair blown back by the artificial wind, and declared with tears in his eyes:
“This… This is the most spirited sports day we’ve ever had! Loc has shown us the true meaning of creativity and disruption!”
I stood there, baton still under my arm, shoelace finally tied, watching grown adults run like they were being chased by demons while EDM sports music blasted from hell.
A stray thought crossed my mind:
All of this… because I stopped to tie my shoe.
Minh appeared beside me out of nowhere, holding two cans of beer he definitely wasn’t supposed to have on the field.
“Bro,” he said, grinning, “you turned a corporate sports event into performance art. Respect.”
I took the beer and opened it with a sigh.
“I just wanted to finish the race without sweating too much.”
Minh laughed. “Mission failed successfully.”
By the end of the day, our team was awarded “Most Innovative Spirit Award.” The trophy was a giant plastic running shoe. They even interviewed me for the company newsletter.
When the reporter asked what inspired my “unique racing style,” I looked straight into the camera and said:
“I was tying my shoelace.”
The reporter nodded seriously, as if I had just dropped profound wisdom.
That night, as I lay in bed, the broken ceiling fan above me spinning lazily, I muttered to the empty room:
“Next time they force me to do sports, I’m bringing a pillow.”
Somewhere outside, I could still hear faint EDM beats and people chanting my name.
I closed my eyes.
This is why I quit sport man. Too much cheering.
