Bleachers' Brew #268 Rain

This appears in the Monday July 11, 2011 edition of the Business Mirror.

Rain

by rick olivares

“And when it rains on your parade, look up rather than down. Without the rain, there would be no tomorrow.”

Nineteenth century British playwright and poet G. K. Chesterton wrote that and I remembered that as I made my way to Monasterio de Santa Clara to make an offering so it wouldn’t rain during the July 3 match between the Philippines and Sri Lanka. Of course, I didn’t believe it for one minute that a bunch of eggs would stop the heavens from emptying their eyes. I’m not the superstitious type. I am on the other hand, someone who follows orders. And since the Home Match’s Local Organizing Committee General Coordinator Cathy Nazareno-Rivilla asked me to make the offering, I went out and did it. It was no bother after all, I do live nearby.

The third of July offered extremes in the weather. It was hot during the daytime and by the time the afternoon rolled around the rain clouds decided to park somewhere in Manila. Nevertheless, it brought some drama to an already supercharged atmosphere.

Anyone who says that football was never a popular Philippine sport doesn’t know anything. It is popular from one end of the country to the other. It is played everywhere pre-Azkals success and it only seems to be a mystery because of the lack of media attention. And if anything, new media deserves a lot of credit for spreading the word and keeping the flame alive.

It used to be that if you weren’t a “b” sport – basketball, boxing, or billiards – you didn’t get media mileage, sponsorships or even television coverage. Volleyball put a dent on that fallacy and football’s emergence in mainstream popularity smashed that Paleozoic era-kind of thinking into millions of shards of broken glass.

Outside of EDSA 1986, I have not heard a home crowd sing the Philippine National Anthem sung with so much fervor. Athletes and journalists will tell you that during competitions abroad, you seem to feel it more. The words mean more. And at 3:27pm of the third of July – one day before Philippine Republic Day – the sound of a collective 15,000 strong crowd singing “Lupang Hinirang” that was the sound of an awakening for the country as a footballing nation.

For the serious football fan, it’s ironic that he knows that chants and cheers of popular and internationally famous clubs from Europe and Latin America. It takes generations for stories, famous names, and great games to be immortalized in song. But the efforts of booster groups like the Kaholeros in coming up with chants and beats shows that we are well on that path to something uniquely our own.

You could see it -- that rabid hunger for football and all its naked power and glory beginning with the Panaad match between the Philippines and Mongolia. You will not see that outside the college basketball teams and the fabled Ginebra San Miguel teams of Robert Jaworski. That it is on a national scale puts it on a different level.

The downpour that lasted close to an hour didn’t dampen one bit the atmosphere. No one left (save for a couple of photogs who had their cameras damaged). And the crowd, though slightly less than the one that showed up in Panaad a few months ago, never let up on their cheering.

I actually found it funny that some media people were asking if the rain bothered the players or affected the outcome of the match. Any true footballer will tell you that a part of a player’s badge of courage is the mud and grass on his boots and his kit. It is one of the few sports that are played rain or shine.

And we offered no excuses. No rain-slick pitch and certainly no pot-holed pitch (Philippine head coach Michael Weiss seemed surprised at being asked if the rain was a factor). The Philippine Men’s Football National Team simply kicked the living daylights out of the Brave Reds.

In the days leading up to last Saturday, I was praying for daylight. And I once more trooped to Monasterio de Sta. Clara not to offer eggs but to pray.

My alma mater, Ateneo de Manila University, hosted the Opening Ceremony of UAAP Season 74 at the Marikina Sports Complex. When I first heard of the Olympic-style outdoor opening about two months ago, my first thought was, “well, there’s a break in tradition.” And my next was, “Wow, that’s smack in the rainy season.”

Chewing on it some more, I thought it was bold, foolish, and maybe even a bit reckless. And I knew that the Marikina pitch was just as bad as the one the Azkals played on Sri Lanka. So I hoped for the best.

I was at ABS CBN last Saturday morning where I was interviewed for a television special for the Azkals on ANC. When I stepped out of the ELJ Towers, I saw the rain had come pouring down and my thoughts turned to the UAAP Opening.

I asked one of the organizers if there was a Plan B in event of heavy rains. “If the opening were in Araneta Coliseum and it was Signal #2 then it would have been postponed,” said the official. “The show will go on.”

With that in mind, I left for Marikina. When I arrived there, I had to brave through horrible traffic and stupid security men who insisted that I wear my media ID (that was only handed out hours before the opening and had yet to be laminated).

With the open air, the cheers and drums of the different pep squads of the different schools sounded so much better than the noise pollution created at the Big Dome.

When Ateneo’s Blue Babble Battalion took to the rain-soaked and muddy pitch to perform along with the hundreds of extras waving flags and holding up long multi-colored streamers (representing the different schools), I was alternating between thoughts of I-hope-that-no-one-slips and boy-that-was-better-than-I-expected. As the program progressed, the whole thing was better than what I expected. I was left to wonder how much better it would have been if it didn’t rain.

Sponge Cola’s live performance of their re-arranged hit single, “Puso”, a bit slower for dramatic effect but no less powerful, kicked up the adrenaline afterburners. I thought that it perfectly reinforced the theme for the year, “All Out. All Heart.”

The parade of athletes (with each school delegation holding up colored umbrellas) on the track oval was a welcome and pleasant change. The effort to promote the UAAP as more than just a basketball league was a long time coming. And all you had to do was look at the massive entourage for UST and UP to know what I mean. The UST delegation gets extra props for putting their own spin to their entourage with the athletes wearing tiger headgear and carrying banners of their own. And when Greg Slaughter led the Ateneo delegation – wow. A seven-footer at the helm!

The torch relay from all the member schools was a novel idea and seeing the participation of different athletes made even more fun and interactive. And seeing former Blue Eagle and San Miguel Beer great Olsen Racela anchor the relay – in the rain no less -- to light the flame was a fitting touch for a memorable opening.

As I celebrated with the organizers, schoolmates, and fellow media who have roots from Loyola Heights, one final thought came to me: “It rained on both the third and ninth of July. I guess good things happen as well on rainy days.”