This appears in the Monday April 12 edition of the Business Mirror. And it's a true story.
The Running Man
by rick olivares
You know the saying, “If you can’t beat him, ask him to be on your side?” Not quite familiar with that, huh?
It was only then that he realized that he was good at something. He was recruited to attend a school in the province where he joined its track team. There his coaches envisioned great things for him – gold medals and a spot on the national team.
As much as he got a kick out of that, he was more concerned about the fact that he was given a dorm’s quarters and food allowance. After all, growing up poor, there wasn’t much on the dinner table. Now all he had to do was run and even if he got tired there was still something to eat.
He did win an awful lot. He was like a rock star to track athletes. Incredible when you think that he’s a small town boy; a hick. All of a sudden, he was a man of the world. He was chosen to join the national team. A dream partially fulfilled.
The kid who never left his poblacion’s boundary lines except to compete found himself representing the country for international meets. New cultures. New experiences. Life was good. And somehow, the National Anthem never sounded better; never had more meaning as it was sung to the beat of his heart.
His coaches said, “Do this for your country.” And he believed them and ran.
He won gold here, there, and everywhere. At the end of the year, he stood on a dais alongside a man called Pacman, a man who answers to one name – Paeng, and a cavalcade of basketball stars he once watched only on television. Now, he stood alongside them. Honored as a hero. Feted with a banquet for kings. Only because he could run like the wind.
But nothing lasts forever. The gold rush dried up. The old guard replaced by the new. The allowance – that wasn’t much to begin with -- that he used to receive as a medalist has been stopped. “Only for medal winners.” He was told. He was still provided sleeping quarters but that was it. He had to fend for his food.
The question is – how does one continue to train in order to earn a slot on the national team when he has to find ways to earn money? Aside from food, there’s the upkeep. A few groceries. Toiletries. Gotta have money to buy toothpaste or else his dentist will have a field day extracting his molars not to mention the little cash in his wallet. He once held back from going despite a toothache because he was holding on to his meager savings. Bad idea. He was immobilized with pain and was unable to do anything else. The old tie-the-tooth-with-a-string-and-connect-it-to-the-door has gone the way of the dinosaur. Or not?
He (including his colleagues who are in the same sinking boat) used to look up to someone to help them. After all, he too, was a former athlete. He above all knows what it’s like. Surely, right?
Wrong. He only hobnobs with people if they are medalists. If you don’t have a medal around your neck and aren’t invited to the presidential palace for more plastic photo ops then you belong to an unfortunate caste system that afflicts athletes at some point in their lives – you are considered to be a part of “the has-beens.”
He hopes that his accomplishments will help him secure a real job. It doesn’t occur to him to promote himself cheaply even on Facebook. He doesn’t have an account. He’s aware of social networking but hasn’t gone into it. He’ll need internet time to do that and with money on short supply -- that’s hardly the priority now, is it? He did grow up in the poblacion where the only pursuits on a weekend were the football games at the town plaza or running up hills and winding roads in the only place he called home.
Nowadays, to earn money, he joins marathons and fun runs. They do give out cash prizes however small. But the well has dried up there as well.
Africans -- Kenyans to be exact -- have invaded the sports scene. And they have been winning. They take away a valuable means of livelihood not just for him but many others. Everyone is angry. He had to endure long and countless hours of training to get where he is. The Africans, well, they did the same, except that because of some genetic quirk that has made the African race athletically superior, they are all but unbeatable. Such is life. He still has not lost his smile.
Now he has gone into personal coaching. One-on-one. Despite there not much money in it. He offered his services to schools and a Manila-based institution liked him… as a basketball trainer. He begged off incredulous at the notion. He said that these kids are stubborn and difficult to teach so he’d rather not waste his time.
What he’s not saying is – he is afraid. He doesn’t speak English well let alone the vernacular. He unfortunately doesn’t express himself well. Unfortunately, coaching isn’t just understanding and knowing the nuances of the sport. Many do not understand that it also entails communication and motivational skills. Except that was never taught in school. Or was it? How would he know when he never really went to class. His school recruited him to run and win track events, not to be the valedictorian or to become a doctor. He regrets it now. Totally. There are only ifs.
If only he had taken his studies more seriously. If only he had still brought home a medal. If… are there any more ifs?
He’s got his chin up. He doesn’t give in. He believes he can get through this.
He believes he has one more shot at a medal.
He’ll worry about life afterwards.
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Author’s note: This is a true story about three different people whose lives I have woven together in one in order to protect them from well you know who they are. Their experiences are practically the same anyways.
How does one help the plight of our athletes? I really wouldn't know but maybe a sincere sports leader who cares for getting the job done the right way would be a start. Think corruption is limited to our national government? Think again. It's bad too in the realm of sports. There are those who approach me for help. I try to do what I can by writing about it, leading them to people who will help out of the goodness of their heart, or by sometimes going straight to the source of the problem. Obviously, it isn't enough.
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