Bleachers' Brew #139 The Race

(This appears in my Monday January 5, 2008 column in the Business Mirror
http://businessmirror.com.ph/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=4043:the-race-a-sports-fable&catid=31:sports&Itemid=65)

The Race
A Sports Fable
by rick olivares

One bright and sunny morning, four friends -- the elephant, the tiger, the lion, and the tamaraw were lounging around, watching pirated DVDs, and engaging in idle chatter.

“Hey, ya’ll,” ventured the lion. “It’s getting kind of boring around here. What do you say we all play a sport to find out who is the best among us?”

“That sounds fun,” nodded the tiger whose eyes gleamed with excitement. “But that begs the question -- what sport do we play that is a fair match for us all?”

“I say we play Muay Thai!” roared the elephant as his trunk flexed in a show of might.

The other animals groaned. “You have got to be kidding us!” protested the lion. “One kick and we’d all be flatter than the world!”

“The world isn’t flat; it’s a-round,” sneered the tiger as he folded his front legs.

“It is flat. Like your sports capabilities,” hotly retorted the lion!

“Them’s fighting words, lion. Put up your dukes, I say!” challenged the tiger who flashed his pearly-white mandibles as he went into a fighting stance.

“Will you all stop,” bellowed the elephant. “It’s supposed to be a friendly competition. If you want we can all meet in the octagon for some mixed martial arts fight and we can beat the snot out of one another.”

“Chill, dude,” said the lion who held his paws up in mock surrender. “We were just blowing off some steam.”

“So how about we play football?” wondered the tiger. “After all, it’s the world sport.”

“Good idea!” agreed the lion and the elephant as they produced a football.

“Not!” protested the tamaraw as the other three looked in his direction. “In my part of the jungle, we play basketball. So how about a game of one-on-one or 21?”

“But you’re small. I’ll beat you,” said the incredulous elephant.

“No, friend elephant,” cautioned the lion. “He may be little but he is fierce.”

“And talented like Kobe Bryant,” added the tamaraw who began to put on a dribbling exhibition.

“What’s that?” asked the elephant with a raised eyebrow.

“That’s Shakespeare, lad. Shakespeare.”

“Ah,” said the elephant as he understood that the tamaraw was infinitely more athletic and talented at hoops. “We plead no contest in the game of basketball as in the same manner you pleaded such for football. I say we play something else.”

“So just what are we going to play,” wondered the tiger who was growing impatient.

Twiddle thumbs. Twiddle thumbs.

“Eureka!” exclaimed the lion with light bulbs flashing above his head. “I know. We can just have a race -- to see who is the fastest.”

“Hmm. I was about to say that myself,” smiled the tiger. “I think it is good. After all, we all have four feet so it’s pretty much equal.”

So the four friends decided to have a race of a distance of two miles. They asked their friend the British lion to officiate the race.

Suddenly the tamaraw realized that he did not have the proper training or equipment to engage in a race. He called his other friend tamaraws to ask why his racing gear was substandard and incomplete.

“Brother tamaraw,” nervously said one. “I think the money was used to buy a condo unit in the most beautiful part of the jungle. But we can still ask either adidas or Nike for sponsorship in exchange for taxcuts.”

“That’s terrible,” growled the tamaraw. “We will call for an investigation of this matter when the race is done. Heads will roll I tell you. So for now we will make do with what we have.”

The four friends lined up at the starting line with intensity written all over their faces. When the British lion whistled to start the race, the four friends thundered out of the gates.

Since he was ill-prepared and equipped the tamaraw soon began to lag behind.

So the contest became a three-way race between the lion, the tiger, and the elephant. Just when it seemed that the lion would edge the others out, a metallic blur raced past them, knocked them around silly, and crossed the finish line.

The three friends wheezed and coughed for the metallic blur had kicked up quite a dust storm. When the visibility got better they saw that the blur was a car -- a Toyota.

“That’s not fair!” cried the tiger. “Japan’s national animal is a car.”

Rather than continue the protest which would probably fall on deaf ears, the three friends continued the race to see who would finish second and third.

Far behind, the tamaraw had resumed his race when he was stopped by his brother tamaraws.

“What gives, brothers? Why do you stop me?”

“This is a charade, brother tamaraw. This race is for amateurs. Let’s just form a pro running league in our country. That way we can make some money.”

Said another tamaraw, ”Actually, we also want to check if you are really of age to compete and if you submitted the correct records.”

“And while you’re at that,” added another one with a media ID, “We will check if you are truly male since we received some reports that you are female. You will have to go to UP and UST hospitals to check for your true gender. The international sports body demands it.”

“But I am a real male tamaraw!” vigorously protested the flummoxed tamaraw. “This is not right. This is a witch hunt.”

“We also received reports that your pep test results are fake…”




Author's Note: This is for my aunt -- Ninez Cacho Olivares who taught me to laugh at things even if they suck. She used to write her early columns in Bulletin and Inquirer using fables to take jabs at our sucky government.

With a nod towards Seabiscuit (you know which part?) and Aesop's Fables and apologies to Nancy Navalta, Roberto Palacios, and He Who Must Not Be Named.