Chapter 1: Genesis

2015

“The New England Patriots, and Tom Brady select James Chetwynd-Talbot Vũ, of Harvard.”

“James, oh Jamesie, I’m so happy for you,” my Mom said as she reached out from where she was seated on the couch in our family room, and planted a kiss on my cheek. “Not too shabby, Yi An,” was my Dad’s contribution.

With a wry smile, I thought to myself that the time to pack my bags and uproot my life has arrived once more. Thankfully though, this time round, the journey was merely miles away, rather than across countries like I was used to.

Moving around the room, I accepted a few congratulations from my other relatives that were sincere, fielded a few questions from the other curious ones, and ignored the slightly disdainful stares from peripheral blood-relations. That done, I stepped out to the guest room where a plethora of reporters were seated and waiting.

“Alright guys, I’m yours.”

“Jeff Howe, Boston Herald. James, how do you feel right now; and what does this mean for you personally, being drafted by your hometown team?”

“Well Jeff, I’m delighted to be playing in the NFL regardless of the location of the organisation. Of course, it was a pleasant surprise to be playing for the Patriots.”

“I noticed you didn’t confirm or deny that the Patriots were your hometown team?”

Letting out a chuckle, I said, “You know my story Jeff, I’m a citizen of the world. The Patriots are now the organisation that I’m with, regardless of my personal thoughts, I will be giving them all due effort.”

After spending close to half an hour talking to the press, I begged forgiveness as I tried my hardest to be courteous while booting them out of the door so that the house was once again the sole domain of the Chetwynd-Talbots’ and the Vũs’.

Walking back into the family room, I collapsed boneless-ly into the couch surprising my Mom who was snoozing on the other end. She looked at me blearily before smiling and said, “Charlie gives his love and congratulations! Any plans to head out tonight?”

“I don’t think so, Mom.” I replied.

“Okay then. Don’t stay up too late, you hear?” I nodded my head, as she woke my Dad up from his favourite armchair. They left the room together with arms around each others’ back.

Still feeling slightly buzzed from the adrenaline of being drafted by an NFL team, I switched on the TV hoping to find out how some of my other teammates were faring in the Draft.

“Notice how he did not confirm or deny that the Patriots were the team that he supported? Or that it was his hometown team?”

It was one of those panel shows, analysing the 2015 Draft picks of all teams.

“What an assured response off the cuff. I said it then, and I’ll say it again. The New England Patriots are getting a hardworking, wily, and intelligent kid with their draft-pick. The reassurance and presence he has, it could only help him in the pocket when he’s faced with rushers. It’s quite a bargain for the Patriots considering the disparity between talent and draft position but expect this kid to shine once he gets his chance in the NFL!”

How did they manage to get my answers to the talking heads that quickly? Either way, I was pleased to hear some support for my talents. Leaning back into the couch, I thought about how far I had come to reach this point.

I’ve always been at ease with having a nomadic lifestyle of sorts.

It wasn’t exactly as if I had a choice. I was born on the 15th September 1989, in Mount Alvernia Hospital, Singapore. From what I heard, my birth was traumatic enough that my mom decided against further children. Of course, that was probably an oft-used lie to guilt-trip me into behaving whenever I stepped out of line.

My dad was in Singapore because he was there to iron out the kinks in the fledging regional headquarters of the family’s business empire. Some say love is the greatest force in the world. I say the rich are so used to getting their way that they forget the sound of ‘no’. Either way, she missed Dad, and enough was enough. My mom, who was stubborn enough to ignore all warnings of travelling while heavily pregnant, felt that she was capable of travel in spite of her hormonal state, whilst dragging along a two year old toddler as well.

Thus, I came into the world, and lived my first five years in Singapore. After which, life was ... well, an adventure. At least that was until I started making friends and discovered the jarring disappointment and sadness in having to leave them. No matter, I had my older brother with me. Charles Henry John Crofton Chetwynd Chetwynd-Talbot Vũ Yi Ming was two years older than me, and certainly the best older sibling anyone could have by far. Especially since life is never great for kids who stand out for whatever reason; and believe me, with our names, we definitely stood out.

Perhaps I should explain.

The old man was descended from a long line of Chinese scholars, generals and noblemen. My mom was descended from a slightly shorter, but nonetheless, equally snooty aristocrats. Between the both of them, our names were significantly different from those given to average individuals. In the East, we stood out for having five extra English names, more than the usual one. In the West, we stood out for having Chinese names. At least Dad was slightly forgiving since he merely insisted on contemporary naming forms.

After having been ordered to serve as diplomats for the Chinese court to Vietnam in the 16th century, the Vũs’ never left after the fall of the Ming Dynasty, the same rulers that sent them there. Vietnam proved hospitable enough to my ancestors. So much so they adopted the Vietnamese versions of our surname, originally spelt as Wu. However, the family remained fairly Chinese in terms of culture and tradition. Believe me, our wai po, Granny Vũ certainly tried to instil in us said customs.

With extraordinary prescience, wai gong, Granddad Vũ wound up the family trading empire in Vietnam before both the Second Indochina War, and the victorious communist Vietnamese government could affect and disenfranchise the family business; being that it was owned by ethnic Chinese rather than Vietnamese. He moved the whole family, servants included to Marseilles, France where Dad grew up.

For Dad, meeting Mom was a delightful coincidence. Mom and Dad could not have been two more dissimilar people in the world. He was studying Philosophy, Politics and Economics in Oxford. Mom on the other hand was studying Fashion in Central Saint Martins. They literally bumped into each other in London, while he was exploring the city during the semester break. From the stories Dad would tell us, it seemed that the Chetwynd-Talbots were not too fond of the blossoming relationship between one Francois Vũ, and the Lady Victoria Alexandra Mary Cecilia Chetwynd-Talbot, only daughter of the 20th Earl of Shrewsbury. I suppose, between the ability to be equally arrogant and disdainful as his future in-laws, along with the fact that Dad stood to inherit the family business which outstripped even the respectable holdings of the Chetwynd-Talbots in terms of revenue, all dissent eventually subsided. Money talks, indeed. So it was between them, that both my brother and I certainly learnt our lessons in human behaviour and how to profit from reading people.