Did it matter that Abbas Saad was an Audtralian of Lebanese descent, not even a permanent resident here?
It didn't to me, to my neighbours whose screams pierced that victorious night of Dec 17 or, I suspect, to any Singaporean football team.
Why? Simply because Abbas represented Singapore and we all wanted Singapore to win. The colour of his hair, skin, or passport was irrelevant. All we cared was that he was wearing our colours.
Patriotism is not something that comes naturally or easily to a country that will, this year, celebrate only 30 years of nationhood.
After all, what is Singapore's 30 years compared to Britain's 700- year history or America's 200 plus?
And not only are we a young nation, we are also diverse. Singaporeans do not belong to one race, speak one language, share one culture or believe in one God, features which bind many countries.
We are together only because our ancestors, streaming in from different corners of the earth, shared one vision -- to strike it rich here.
So can Singapore be considered a nation yet? Can we say, hand on heart, that we think as one people and that, in a crisis, we will rally and fight a common enemy?
The pessimistic view is that we are generations away from being a nation.
This group points out the innumerable differences that split Singaporeans. Besides, they say, those born after the 1965 separation from Malaysia have not shared enough harrowing experiences to feel as one people.
Others look on the brighter side. They cite events like National Day celebrations, the Malaysia Cup and swimmer Joscelin Yeo winning her medals at the 1993 SEA Games. Nationhood, if not already here, cannot be far away.
As one who sang Ole! Ole! when Abbas scored his hat-trick, and whose heart stirs whenever the Majular Singapura is played at the Padang on National Day, I belong to the second group.
Nationhood, I'd like to think, need not be born through homogeneity or the sharing of ordeals like wars.
Experiencing euphoric events, like a 4-0 football win, can also contribute to that proverbial batptism of fire so necessary for a ntiona's birth.
I have not always felt this patriotic.
In fact, growing up, I was pretty abashed about Singapore.
Singapore seemed to me, when I was a teen in the late '70s and '80s, fed by books and movies from the West, decidedly gauche and unglamorous.
What was this but a very tiny spot with muggy weather, where people dressed in shorts and slippers, where many propped one leg up the stool when they slurped their coffee, spoon sticking out from the cup?
School didn't help generate pride for the country. I can't recall being taught at length about Singapore's history, heroes or even its geography. But I sure knew a lot about the Opium War, Mahatma Gandhi and Sri Lanka's climate.
The realisation that, hey, Singapore is a pretty decent country after all, came slowly. It was gained through travelling to the countries I had dreamt about, and seeing that they, too, had their share of squalor.
It came from watching the physical changes around me, the erection of skyscrapers, the MRT, underground tunnels. It was achieved through reading all those flattering reports from international agencies about how great an economic powerhouse this is.
But the new-found prode was not all based on Singapore's quick climb up the ladder of developing nations, or its wealth and its achievements.
The patriotism also resulted from coming to terms with the fact that this is the place I was born in, where my family, friends and memories are, and that this is the only country I can feel totally comfortable in.
So what if people still spit in the streets? They are Singaporeans, like me, and this is home.
What is a Singaporean?
How do people coming in from Changi Airport see us? Do any generalisations fit? Are we, say, as big-hearted as the Americans? As hardworking as the Japanese? OR as proud as the French?
It is hard to place labels on a people of such contrasting cultures. Still, we share certain features.
Outwardly, we speak a peculiar brand of English, and have our set of reference points. (CBD, COE, PAP, LKY, Chiam, Anita, Sakura -- if you are not a Singaporean, chances are you will neither understand what these mean, nor fathom their significance.)
We have a sense of humour (watch Gotcha!, the Candid Camera copycat TV programme, and see how Singaporeans laugh at themselves); tend to over-do things (kiasuism); root for the underdog (look at the support given to opposition politicians); and are foodies.
But more than all this, I like to think that what characterises Singaporeans best is our belief in multi-racialism.
We are a people who appreciate that all races have a place in the sun, that people should not be treated differently because of their race, and that any foreigner who wants to contribute to this country -- be it as a footballer or a geneticist -- is welcome to stay.
This belief did not come about naturally, of course, but had been ingrained through policies like integrated schools and housing, and national service.
Of course, pockets of cultural chauvinism exist, and always will. But multi-racism is upheld as a national ideal, and plugged at continually.
After all, wouldn't it be nice if Singapore were known not so much for its bustling port or super-efficient airline, but as a nation where people of so many races -- including Australians of Lebanese descent -- live together in peace?
So on this note, fellow Singaporeans, here's wishing you a Happy New Year.