The Round Mound & Agent Zero

Outside
One of my earliest recollections of Charles Barkley was when he was in Philadelphia and they were playing Portland at the Spectrum. The Trailblazers were in their half-court set and the ball had swung to their then-rookie Mark Bryant who was working the ball to Jerome Kersey. Barkley, who was on top of the key called out, “Yo!” And Bryant fell for that old playground trick of passing to an opponent. The Round Mound of Rebound hightailed it to the other end of the floor for a monster slam and guffaws of laughter on both sides.

That’s the way Barkley played the game – with feral intensity and in the spirit of fun. Easily, he is the most quoted – although he does claim, misquoted – player in the NBA. The loquacious forward has found a home on TNT’s Inside the NBA which is the funniest sports talk show since Dan Patrick and Keith Olbermann ruled Sportscenter. Along with Kenny Smith, Doug Collins, Marv Albert, Steve Kerr, and Ernie Johnson among others, they have the best quotes and most fab insights. While not as astute as Kerr, Chuck knows how to make the broadcasts interesting and fun to listen to.

Barkley: Byron Scott just got out of the hospital.
Johnson: Huh? What happened?
Barkley: He got stabbed in the back (in reference to his players ousting him from New Jersey).

Chuck on Vince Carter: Half-man. Half-season.

Kenny Smith: Andre Igoudala was on fire!
Chuck: No, he wasn’t. He was just excited he got to shoot in a game (in reference to Allen Iverson’s not passing the ball).

During the recent Los Angeles Lakers vs. Sacramento Kings game in Sacto, Barkley subbed for an indisposed Steve Kerr to work alongside Marv Albert and he was fantastic. He playfully needled veteran ref Dick Bavetta who is 67 years of age about his apparent slowness in getting up and down the NBA hardwood to do his job. Said Barkley, “Bavetta was so old that he parted the Red Sea with Moses.” And he also added that he and Albert could beat Bavetta down the floor anytime and anywhere. Added Sir Charles, Bavetta’s tombstone would read, “He keeled over while racing the Chuckster.” TNT is proposing that the two settle the score once and for all right before the All-Star Game. Bavetta has reportedly agreed to race. Stay tuned to this if it materializes but that would be real fun since Bavetta is another jokester.

In that same LA-Sacto telecast, the Lakers’ Brian Cook found himself wide open late in the game but passed up a shot to which Barkley leapt up and yelled out loud enough even for those in the nearby seats to hear, “Shoot the ball! Shoot the ball. If you’re scared, get a dog!” Bwahahaha. That’s just awesome!

Courtside
My three fave NBA jerseys today are Kobe’s #24 (yes, I have the Lakers’ purple road jersey and am one of the few MJ fans who’s a Kobe fan), Andres Nocioni’s #5, and Gilbert Arenas’ #0. Yes, Arenas. How can you not love this player who has made a career out of using perceived slights as motivation? Not since MJ lit up foes with channeled anger has the NBA seen a playa like Arenas. There’s even a term coined for his oddities, Gilbertology. He wears #0 after basketball experts once said that he plays zero minutes in Arizona, his college. That goes to show that experts know jack. And after being cut out from the US Basketball National Team to the recent FIBA Worlds, he promised to take it out on Mike Krzyzewski’s assistants on that team, Phoenix’s Mike D’Antoni and Portland’s Nate McMillan. He lit up the Suns for 54 and said he’d go for 50 versus the Trailblazers this coming February 11. And he even wrote in his blog that he’d “give up one NBA season to go back to college just to play Duke where he’d score 84 or 85 points.” Hoo-hah!

My slant, Coach K was the main reason why the US team lost at Saitama. He didn’t play his bench much and inexplicably did not use Dwight Howard in the second half during that crucial loss to Greece. Why get a team of 12 when you’re only going to a 7-man rotation? And he had Brad Miller who could break down those zones with his deadeye outside shooting. Stay in college, Coach K. Your game only works there.

Back to Arenas. Not since Larry Bird have we seen a player who likes to call his shots. Remember when Bird told Xavier McDaniel as they were headed for their respective benches during a timeout that he’d shoot from a certain spot on the floor (in the game’s dying minutes) and that he’d make it? The Birdman delivered on that promise on the very spot he pointed out to the X-Man.

Well, Arenas is somewhat like that. Before every shot, he’d yell, “Hibachi!” That’s because he heats up real fast like a Hibachi grill. But after Kobe Bryant said that he doesn’t take quality shots, Arenas began to shout, “Quality shot,” after every shot. And he took it out on the Lakers going for 60 points.

Well, both are headed for the All-Star Game at Las Vegas where both figure to be a big part of pro hoops’ biggest party. Barkley vs. Bavetta? Arenas vs. the League. That I’d pay to watch.

A Real Mess

Home
Before the ASEAN Football Cup Finals, I was shocked to hear most of my friends and colleagues say that our National Team was going to get their collective asses whupped. It’s not that I had overly misplaced optimism or unrealistic expectations, but rather I believed that our team would fight and contend. While in the aftermath of the competition, my prediction might seem laughable, I like to think that we went into the finals thinking we had a chance. Look, if we’re going to go into international competitions like the Asian Games, SEA Games, Olympics or what have you and our mindset is we’re not going to win, then why bother sending a team? Let’s save the tax payers some money and just send the boxers, cue artists, wushu practitioners or the sure-ball medal winners. We’re there as contenders not as foils for players to rack up some serious personal stats.

So maybe the system Aris Caslib ran was wrong. Maybe they didn’t have enough preparation. Maybe our team wasn’t in the best of conditions – did you see how the Malaysians and Thais outran our defensive backs time and again? The way the Thais had their way with us, I swear I thought the score was 11-0. Oh, that was Singapore versus Laos? No fooling. If the Malays and Thais weren’t excited like they were at a duck shoot, they might have scored a few more. Maybe this will show people that having the Fil-foreigners is a short-fix solution.

Aside from the beatings we got, I was afraid that the losses (so are you happy we tied Myanmar?) would kill the burgeoning interest in football locally. You don’t know how pissed I was when I heard the game analyst’s comments that we are clearly out of our league and how the tourney should be a learning experience. We’ve been schooled so much over the years that I wonder if we’re inured to the lessons. Truth hurts, doesn’t it? And some naysayers opine that these losses might send Philippine football back to the Stone Age. Well, I don’t think so and that’s not the eternal optimist in me speaking. I think that more people care now and they won’t allow the sport to sink into quiet obscurity. So now it’s back to the drawing board and the upcoming SEA Games.

Our foes play some 30+ international games every year. Our team plays in much less. Shooting from the hip here, I’d say our team needs more exposure, better facilities for training, better training, and a solid comprehensive grassroots program. Not a splintered one. What’s happening is we have different fiefdoms for associations. If they aren’t feuding with one another they think their association is king. So much for team spirit.

It seems that after every debacle in some sporting event, people call for an inquiry or take the opportunity to lambaste the incumbents. But has anything been done? Time for real action, gentlemen. And by the way, thanks to the Azkals! I’m a fan no matter what.

Abroad
Over in the Iberian Peninsula, Real Madrid, my favorite international football team (after the defunct New York Cosmos) is in turmoil. Yes, the soap opera continues. They are discovering much like the New York Yankees that fielding a line-up of galacticos doesn’t guarantee gleaming silverware.

I am sorely disappointed the way things have turned out after the World Cup. Their shoddy treatment of their players leaves much to be desired. I thought that David Beckham played into the hands of Ramon Calderon and Fabio Capello. All the while, the President and Coach said that the former England Captain was in Madrid’s plans. In the meantime, Becks became one of the world’s most expensive cheerleaders hardly getting any playing time. Then they said that it was Beckham’s decision whether he wanted to stay with the team. When Beckham chose the LA Galaxy’s offer, the two reacted as if Beckham had an affair with their wives. Calderon made derisive comments not just about Beckham but even the other players most notably Ronaldo, Iker Casillas, and Antonio Cassano, and Guti. Capello also said that Beckham played his last game with Real. After the backlash against their poor management of the situation, the two backpedaled. Calderon apologized to the team for his rants (he called his team a bunch of spoiled egoists, revealed to all how much Casillas makes, and pooh poohed Beckham’s deal with a supposed lousy football league) and Capello said that maybe Beckham might play out his final season. But the damage has been done. Capello even flipped the bird on one irate fan! Madrid – championship-less in three years now is rebuilding for the nth time. The players are unhappy. If management believed that the youth movement was the way to go then they should have done so after the last World Cup. As it is, many of their former players and coaches left with a sour taste in their mouths. Not exactly the paragon of a model organization Real Madrid is. Maybe after this, other players might not want to showcase their wares at the Bernabeau.

Maybe the LFP should change the team’s name to Real Mess.

Going Home

I. Homeward Bound
After seven months of living in airport terminals and a fire station, footballer Ayi Nii Aryee was finally cleared to leave last January 10 on board an Emirates flight EK 335 bound for Dubai. From there, Aryee switched flights for the last leg home to Accra International Airport in Ghana.

Ayi was contracted to try out for a pro football club Sporting Afrique in Singapore’s S-League some nine months ago, but a bad deal and a devious agent left the aspiring football player without a team and without any money. But the worst was yet to come to the 19-year old Ghanaian player. A voided working permit and an expired passport found him stranded at first in Clark International Airport then at NAIA where he was confined to quarters since July of last year.

But all ends well. With the help of local football club Union FC, Ayi was finally able to leave. Partially because of our efforts to publicize Ayi’s plight, Sporting Afrique was banned from further competition in Singapore. It turns out that Ayi wasn’t the only player being taken advantage of. The rest of the team has not been paid the previously agreed salaries promised them and S-League authorities shut down the club while its management is purportedly under investigation. In the meantime, the team’s players who are all from Africa have been dispersed to other clubs or have been sent back home.

II. A Sort of Homecoming
Last Tuesday, January 9, I received an invitation to conduct a seminar on sports writing for grade school kids from 14 different Metro Manila-based schools. The seminar/workshop was last Saturday, January 13, at my alma mater, Ateneo De Manila. Almost as soon as I said yes to the Ateneo Grade School Vice Principal Jonni Salvador, who is an old classmate of mine, I immediately regretted it.

I previously gave similar seminars in the Ateneo College and at Immaculate Conception Academy but the participants were either of the secondary or tertiary level and thereby more mature and with an idea of what they want to do in life. I wasn’t sure if these kids who were in either grade six or seven had a clue of what they wanted to pursue let alone writing being a career for them (like Janice Hardy, Michael Jordan’s old elementary teacher, I told them to go into math because that’s where the money was --- hahaha). Wasn’t this the age where Playstation games occupied their attention more than reading sports pages or what? Wasn’t this the age where they began to notice members of the opposite sex? Despite my apprehensions, I still pushed through with it. About 15 minutes into the sessions, I was so glad that I took part in it. It turned out to be a fabulous experience that brought me back to my Tulong Dunong days teaching poor kids in Marikina. And it wasn’t even imparting what knowledge I had. I think that I too learned much from them. That and being inside a grade school classroom I was last in since 1981.

The last thing I had my students do was to write about their fond memories with regards to sports and other matters (some of my students were editors of their own school newspapers but weren’t necessarily into sports). One of the participants was a Grade 7 kid named Jan who was playing for the Ateneo Grade School basketball team. Jan wrote of the difficulties of playing with more senior and better players who seemed to bully him at every opportunity. He avoided practice and wanted to quit. But good ole fatherly advice got him back on track. He’s once more practicing with the team and still faces the same challenges day in and out. Only this time, it’s with a different perspective on things. He asked me afterwards why his teammates constantly get on his case. I said that they probably ride him because they know he has so much more to give. They are pushing and probing him because of his potential. I said that if they didn’t feel he had anything to contribute they wouldn’t even bother him. After all, he’d be eating into their playing time.

Jan’s story wasn’t the only one that was inspiring. The kids from Marist, Claret, Holy Spirit and others all had wonderful and touching tales to tell. I thank the Lord for the exuberance and eternal optimism of youth. A dose of it augurs well for tired and jaded souls like ours who are tired of corruption and a world that doesn’t really care. I told Jonni that while I’m still on Philippine soil, he has me hooked up for next year’s seminar.

III. UAAP sports
It’s Monday as you read this but I spent yesterday – Sunday – watching my school team compete in various UAAP sports. I watched the Ateneo team play baseball defending champs UP at Rizal (Ateneo won 9-3). Zipped over to Loyola Heights where I had lunch with PFF’s Johnny Romualdez, NCRAA’s Poch Borromeo, Ateneo’s Jun Jun Capistrano and Ricky Palou, Adidas officials, and STI’s Mhel Garrido. Watched the women’s football team tie UST 1-1. And after I file this report, I’m off to Blue Eagle Gym to watch volleyball. Ah, the life of a sports junkie.

Rocky Balboa

As a kid, I was weaned on a steady diet of Bruce Lee movies in Binondo. That and the Marvel Superheroes. So imagine my surprise when my dad took me to watch a boxing movie in the old Remar theater in Cubao.

The brass filigree theme that opened as the word “ROCKY” in bold white letters scrolled to the left hooked me from the get-go. Bill Conti in my humble opinion penned one of the best movie soundtracks ever. The ultimate compliment I could give a soundtrack lies in one word – sensitivity. And it is in more ways than one plus it stands the test of time. As the grooves of my vinyl LP wore out, I bought the CD of it in Times Square many years later and imported the music into my ipod.

The movie opened to these simple words:

November 25, 1975
Philadelphia

There was a huge stained glass-like mural of Jesus above a dingy smoky gym that had certainly seen better days. But you know, it was magic. Thus began the greatest underdog story ever told and the lessons about going the distance.

I picked up Sylvester Stallone’s autobiography years later and read of how he wrote the script for Rocky in 86-straight hours in his dilapidated apartment where the heater hardly worked during those brutal east coast winters. I was glad that he stood his ground when United Artists, the outfit that bankrolled the movie, asked if it would be okay for Burt Reynolds or Ryan O’Neal to star in it. And as it turned out, Sly was the best man for this folkloric character. And the film had some of the most memorable characters ever: the immortal Adrian, her jerk of a brother Paulie, Gazzo, the small-time loanshark, Apollo Creed who actor Carl Weathers played brilliantly, and of course, the late Burgess Meredith’s Mickey.

And they (and the film) had some of the best movie lines ever. The closest film with really great lines I’d say is Jerry Maguire.

Adrian: Einstein flunked out of school twice.
Paulie: Is that so?
Adrian: Yeah. Beethoven was deaf. Helen Keller was blind. Rocky’s got a chance.

Mickey: Your nose is broken.
Rocky: How does it look?
Mickey: Ah, it’s an improvement.

I worked in Princeton awhile back and it being an hour away from Philly, it was inevitable that I’d go there. I grew up a Sixers fan (before I switched allegiances to Michael Jordan and the Chicago Bulls) and I loved the Philly soul music scene. As much as 70s rock shook me to my core, I watched Soul Train on television and “The Sound of Philadelphia” by MFSB with vocals by the Three Degrees was a ridiculous favorite in our house. I took the opportunity to go to Philadelphia to re-live my childhood fantasies one fall weekend and to run up the steps at the Museum of Art where to this day, people still run up in a tribute to Rocky. The Rocky statue wasn’t there when I got there (it was relocated at the Wachovia Center where I did get to see it as I watched the Sixers play that night) but there was this massive exhilarating feeling being atop those steps in this most historic city.

I loved the movie and its sequels. Sure not all of it was great – I especially wasn’t crazy about IV but I sort of liked V when Rocky retired and was up against one of his protégés in a street fight. If there was any movie that is the granddaddy of all sequels then Rocky is it (now it’s even-steven with the Star Wars movies, all I have to wait on is for Indiana Jones to catch up).

I remember reading Mad Magazine parody of Rocky so many years ago with the movie going all the way to a 17th installment where the Itallian Stallion is an old geezer still duking it out in the ring. Who would have thought that 30 years later we’d see the sixth and final installment (the movie was shown in 1976 when it premiered in New York’s Baronet Theater where six years prior to the movie’s screening Sly worked as $37 a-week usher)?

So I watched Rocky Balboa with baited breath and guarded optimism. Would it stand up to the mythos of the original?

I’ll try not to spoil things for those who haven’t seen the movie since it isn’t showing yet, but yes, the film does stand up and is a perfect coda to this series. The sub-plot of Rocky and Adrian’s romance was always the centerpiece of the movies and even with Shire’s absence in the movie, you feel the emotional tug of it. The scenes where Rocky mourns are powerful beyond belief. There are even more great characters this time around beginning with Antonio Tarver’s (badly underused) Mason Dixon. Just as Creed wasn’t a bad guy in the vein of Clubber Lang and Drago, Dixon is very much another tortured soul. The characters of Spider Rico and Li’l Marie make dramatic re-appearances and contributions to the story. The script is taut and poignant. And when I heard the opening strains of Bill Conti’s music which has been re-arranged for this as well as the “Take You Back” street soul of Stallone’s brother Frank Jr, my eyes welled up.

Rocky was always about going the distance and after this movie, I’d say that Tom Wolfe is wrong. Sly Stallone shows us that yes, you can go home again.

So Close, Footballer's New Year reunion fizzles out

"A horse. A horse. My kingdom for a horse, " cried out Richard the Lion Heart after his nights were besieged by Moors. The one thing that life's problems leave upon a person is not to take things for granted.

For Ayi Nii Aryee, the Ghanaian football player who's been playing out a real life version of Tom Hanks' stranded character in the movie The Terminal, home and family never seemed more desirable.

After local football club Union FC helped purchase a ticket home for Aryee after nearly six months in solitude in Clark International Airport , the 19-year old football player with dreams of making it on the international stage was going home. He left Clark around noon of last December 30, 2006 to go to Ninoy Aquino International Airport to take an Emirates flight bound for Dubai and from there to Accra, Ghana. "It would have been a nice homecoming," thought Ayi about arriving home on New Year's Eve.

He bade a teary-eyed farewell to the firemen in the Emergency Services Department (where he was confined) and Union FC who all treated him like a brother. His flight was scheduled for 6pm, but right before boarding, he was disallowed to take a seat. Dr. Rafa Rodriguez, who also plays with Union FC explained the latest snag in the Ghanaian's quest to go home: "He was withheld by United Arab Emirates pending a request from Dubai for permission to board, Dubai being his transit flight. This is the protocol of the UAE."

For the third time in a year (the first being in Singapore where he was deported after his working papers were cancelled and the second happening at Clark where he has been staying ever since), Ayi was confined to quarters. Only this time, he was more distraught. "To come so close then snatch it away, it is cruel," he lamented as soon as he found himself back in the familiar digs of the conference room of the Emergency Department Services in Clark that has been his living quarters in the last four months.

NAIA Officials have been most helpful in trying to secure the fax from Dubai that will allow the Ghanaian entrance into the Middle Eastern gateway. Said one Immigrations official, "As much as we'd like to help, it's out of our hands. Ghana embassy officials in Singapore have certified his identity. Unfortunately, this is all part of the protocol." The official however stressed that it will take three to four days to process all the papers before Ayi will be finally allowed to leave.

"It's a little problem. Just a few more days," says Ayi trying to sound upbeat. "But at least I know that it will not take another six months."

New Year’s Resolutions

Sports are a metaphor for life as one has oft heard. But many times, the lines are blurred when the unscrupulous and the greedy take over. Here are a few New Year’s resolutions for certain people and if they listen up, then maybe the world will be a better place in 2007 and forever.

For our homegrown athletes who toil in anonymous hardship:
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine as children do. It's not just in some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our own lights shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others. – Timo Cruz (Coach Carter)

For a controversial college basketball coach:
l came to coach basketball players, and you became students. – Ken Carter (Coach Carter)
We trust that you’re a fine, upstanding, God-fearing man with Christian morals and principles who will set an example and a standard of leadership for our boys – tell me, do you believe in zone defense or man-to-man? – Town member to Coach Norman Dale (Hoosiers)
I’d stress on the Christian morals, Coach.

For the hopelessly inept referees who call the games:
We come to work, and we work extremely hard at this, only for the officials to screw us. We fought, but that doesn't mean anything when you have the officials take over the game like that. You go with the three blind mice, and it's just sad that Tom screwed up that game for us. – Jason Kidd after a controversial New Jersey Nets loss to the Detroit Pistons
Man, I saw some of the worst officiated college basketball games last season. Boo!

For the promoters, managers, and sports officials who take advantage of our poor and ill equipped boxers, know this:
If there’s magic in boxing, it’s the magic of fighting battles beyond endurance, beyond cracked ribs, ruptured kidneys and detached retinas. It’s the magic of risking everything for a dream that nobody sees but you. – Eddie Dupris (Million Dollar Baby)
Why do some people with zero ounce of talent make money out of those who give their bodies to the pain?

For our sports officials who engage in mudslinging:
Reporter: Rocky, do you have something derogatory to say about the champ?
Rocky: Derogatory? Yeah, he’s great. – Rocky Balboa (Rocky II)

For selfish pro athletes:
When you put on that jersey, the name on the front is a hell of a lot more important than the one on the back. – Herb Brooks (Miracle)

For team managers/coaches, may you learn from this:
One February 13, 1999, Arsenal played Sheffield United in a FA Cup match. With the scored at 1-all, a Sheffield player went down an injury. Football has an unwritten rule where the opposing team kicks the ball out of bounds when a player is injured. When play resumes, the team with the injured player kicks the ball back to the opposing team. But on this day, that rule was broken when Arsenal rookie Nwankwo Kanu stole teammate Ray Parlour’s inbounds pass to Sheffield. Kanu passed to another teammate who scored as Sheffield players stood around in shock. The referee let the goal stand and Arsenal won 2-1. Except that it wasn’t a satisfying win for Arsene Wenger, the Gunners’ manager. He asked the Football Association to replay the game and for the first time in 127 years, a match was replayed with Arsenal winning by the same margin 2-1.

For George Steinbrenner, Owner of the New York Yankees:
Winning is not a sometime thing; it's an all time thing. You don't win once in a while, you don't do things right once in a while, you do them right all the time. Winning is habit. Unfortunately, so is losing. – Vince Lombardi, Hall of Fame Coach of the Green Bay Packers
I believe that the problem of the Yankees is that the Boss has eschewed what Manager Joe Torre brought to the organization by playing a National League type of game in the American League. That’s small ball as opposed to the majestic home runs that people love. That was the secret of the 1996-2001 Yankees. They grinded it out, were the most patient of batters, and won by the contributions of the team. I miss guys like Mariano Duncan, Charlie Hayes, Tim Raines, Paul O’Niell, Joe Girardi, Luis Sojo, and Gerald Williams. Those guys played hard and only cared for the team’s ultimate goal.

For everyone, here’s a point to ponder for the New Year by one of the greatest athletes of our time:
My childhood ambition was to beat my dad in a game of golf. But my biggest ambition yesterday and today – how can I become a better person tomorrow? – Tiger Woods

Happy New Year, everyone! It’s going to be another great year in sports.

Peace Be the Journey, The Football Odyssey of Ayi Aryee

It is incredible how the hopes and dreams of many lie in a spheroid that measures 28 inches in diameter and weighs 14-16 ounces. The ball is an object of affection that defines many a nation and is a source of genuine pride. In fact, El Salvador and Honduras have gone to war over it. And most recently, Germany used the game to showcase its vibrant economy. For many people, football isn’t just a mere game. It’s the great equalizer in the game of life.

Ayi Nii Aryee made a conscious decision to pursue a football career after high school in Accra, Ghana. He knew that if he dedicated himself to the game and worked hard at it, he could make a living out of playing the sport he loves the most.

The success of his countrymen Michael Essien, Stephen Appiah, Shilla Illiasu, Gerald Asamoah, and David Odonkor in Europe only steeled his ambition. The fourth child of a brood of six, Ayi took a United Arab Emirates flight to Singapore last April where a countryman agent of his took him to play for Sporting Afrique, a team of Africans playing in the S-League, the premier football league of the former British colony.

Ayi was both nervous and excited about the prospect of playing overseas. Singapore was a long ways from Europe, but he figured that it was a step closer in following his idol, Stephen Appiah, the captain of Ghana’s Black Stars and who also starred for one of the top football clubs in the world, Fenerbehce of Turkey. But instead of being quartered with his fellow Africans, he was billeted at a hotel where he had to pay for his board and lodging. The problem with that was the pay that was promised him was an empty one. Ayi was to receive far less than what was initially offered. Dismayed and out of money, Ayi rescinded the contract and left for the Philippines where he sought the help of an uncle, Wisdom Obi Tanko, who resided in Cavite. The Philippines intrigued Ayi and he wondered if there was a club that he could hook up with. Tanko put his hand on his nephew’s shoulder and said, “The passion of the nation is in basketball, not football. It is going to be hard.” Undaunted, Ayi returned to Singapore to retrieve his belongings but he wasn’t allowed to enter. Immigration officials said that since he no longer had a work-permit in the island nation, he wasn’t allowed to enter more so collect his belongings that he had inadvertently left behind. Upon his immediate return to the Philippines last July 13, 2006, he was likewise not allowed to leave the terminal of the Diosdado Macapagal International Airport at the Clark Special Economic Zone since his passport had expired.

He sought the help of his country’s embassy in Singapore only to be passed around by the local consulate as well as the Ghanaian missions to Japan and Malaysia as if he had the plague. The young footballer was confined to the terminal for 47 days where his hope and health greatly waned. One time, he gave a security guard the last of his money to buy him food since he couldn’t leave the terminal’s premises. But the guard never returned and that evening, weakened by the lack of food, Ayi collapsed and hurt himself. The airport’s Executive Vice President Alexander Cauguiran, has been a steadfast pillar of support. Cauguiran not only shelled out his own money to help the stranded Ghanaian but transferred him to the more comfortable Fire Department that was outside the main terminal. The seldom used conference room has become Ayi’s living quarters where he passes time by devouring books and magazines while listening to reggae music.

The 49-man strong Emergency Services Department of the airport have “adopted” Ayi as one of their own. They not only share with him their food but they keep him company as well. Says Virgilio Gatdula, a fire fighter for 10 years now, “Gusto namin dalhin sa bahay kahit ilang araw lang kaso hindi pwede gawa ng expired passport niya.” Everyday, Ayi volunteers to help wash the cars or fire engines. “It’s the only way I can repay them for their help,” he smiles. “If this were another country, I would be in a jail cell.”

The rest of the Emergency Services Department watches Ayi’s odyssey with great interest. For many of them, it’s their first look up close with a footballer. Football doesn’t even excite them. But during the recent ASEAN Cup Qualifiers in Bacolod where the Philippine National Team made it to the Finals after a stirring three-game win skein, everyone shared in the 19 year-old’s enthusiasm for the sport.

Despite the period of inactivity, Ayi looks at this temporary setback as “one of life’s challenges,” as he likes to say. “I treat it like I just suffered an injury.”

He trains twice a day – one in the early morning and one in mid-afternoon. The firemen are amazed. “We train hard,” says one fireman. “But when we see Ayi – he runs from 3pm until it gets dark – umiiling kami. Hindi namin kaya yung ginagawa niya na takbo ng takbo.”

Ayi’s training is confined to the tarmac behind the fire station with the majestic Mt. Arayat in the background. Every time he steps out of the fire station, there is a security guard nearby – a grim reminder of his confinement. It is also here in the tarmac where he sometimes gets to play pick-up football games with visiting well-wishers particularly Manila-based club Union F.C. which has championed the Ghanaian’s plight. People have brought him books one of which is a Filipino-English dictionary to help him understand the language better. Ateneo De Manila has likewise considered giving the young footballer a scholarship and chance to play for the Blue Booters.

Last November 18, Ayi celebrated his 19th birthday in the company of a few well-wishers. For his first Noche Buena, he shared a simple meal with the firemen on duty. But his long-delayed birthday and Christmas gift has come in the form of a plane ticket via United Arab Emirates (that was paid for by Union FC) that will take him back to Accra this coming December 30.

“This is a wonderful wonderful country,” beams the young African who heaved a huge sigh of relief at the sudden turn of fortunes. “Everyone has been so helpful and friendly from the start. In that Tom Hanks’ movie, he (Hanks’ character) doesn’t want to leave the Terminal because he knows he will be arrested. But in my case, I know I will be free. Now it’s getting back my life again. I will finally get to play football again. And I know I will be back because this is truly a great nation and I will never forget what the people here have done for me.”

The terminal: A football story

Remember Tom Hanks’ character of Viktor Navorski in the Terminal? It was about an Eastern European traveler who was stuck in the terminal of JFK International Airport as a result of the political upheavals in his fictional country of Krakozhia. Well, we have a similar situation right in our very own backyard only it’s not something crafted out of Hollywood.

Here is the odyssey of Ayi Nii Aryee.

Ghana in Western Africa has a population of 22 million people. Although it is one of the progressive countries in the region, they are heavily dependent on international aid through trading of its rich gold, timber, and cocoa. The former UN Secretary General Kofi Anan is perhaps the best known Ghanaian but of late, this English-speaking country has also been relying on its footballing exports like Chelsea’s Michael Essien, Fenerbahce’s Stephen Appiah and Saturn FC’s (from the Russian Premier League) Shilla Illiasu to bring Ghana to international prominence. .

The Black Stars of Ghana are ranked #28 in the world by FIFA and recently competed in the World Cup in Germany. “The pride of Africa” entered the round of 16 after beating the much more ballyhooed Czech Republic 2-0 and the USA 2-1. There they eventually fell to Brasil 0-3, but left Europe giving their country and their continent plenty to cheer about. Ghanaians also have kinsmen Gerald Asamoah and David Odonkor who played for the German side in the World Cup Finals.

Ayi Nii Aryee is from Ghana’s capital city of Accra. He grew up dreaming of following Ghana National Team Captain Stephen Appiah’s footsteps while playing for Istanbul FC in his country’s First Division. Early this year before the World Cup in Germany Singapore, a sports agent contracted Ayi to play professional football for Sporting Afrique (a team that features players mostly from Cameroon, Nigeria, Kenya, and Ghana) in Singapore’s S-League. However, the agent duped Ayi leaving him with no club and no money until he was forced to go to the Philippines where he sought the help of an uncle living in Cavite.

Ayi tried to go back to Singapore but he was deported since he had no work permit. He arrived back at Clark International Airport last July 13, 2006 and has been confined to the airport grounds ever since. The terminal was home for 47 days before airport officials moved him to the quarters of the fire department.

He’s been there for over five months now and celebrated his 19th birthday last November 18 with a few airport staff and well-wishers. Ayi, who has learned pidgin Filipino, mostly gets by through the kindness of strangers. Local football club, Union FC which just won the first Terry Razon Copa earlier this month has been helping out Ayi by providing food, water, and material support. A few airport officials have likewise shelled out their own money to help tide over the young African with dreams of greatness on the football pitch. “Salamat,” he says his voice dripping with sincerity to the people who help out. ”Mabuhay ka.”

In spite of his predicament he hasn’t given up hope. He trains twice a day – in the morning and at night -- to keep in shape. He jogs and works out. In a scene eerily reminiscent of another Tom Hanks movie, Castaway, where Hanks’ character Chuck Noland’s constant companion and sounding board is a volleyball named Wilson (after the brand), Ayi’s belief and dreams are encapsulated by a well-used football.

“I believe that football has the power to unite people,” says Ayi his voice unperturbed by months of isolation and dashed hopes. “The sport has brought me places I never thought I would go see. And even if things did not turn out the way I want them, it has brought me new friends and that has made me want to pursue my dreams all the more.”

“I’d love to play for Union FC,” he adds. “I know that football is becoming even more popular in the Philippines. It would be good if I could become a part of that.”

It’s Christmas Eve and Ayi Nii Aryee has a couple of wishes. “Peace for mankind,” he laughs. “Yes, that’s good. But I’d love to get out of here and play. Just to play.”


Merry Christmas to everyone and thanks for reading Bleachers’ Brew and Business Mirror!

(Controversial) Sportsman of the year

There’s a line that former WWE General Manager Eric Bischoff swears by: “Controversy creates cash.” That may be very well true. It sure jump-started the Eraserheads’ career when public officials decried the tame cuss words in their first hit single “Pare Ko.” In the case of Sports Illustrated’s choice of Miami Heat super guard Dwyane Wade as the Sportsman of the Year, it’s nuclear fallout over a perceived wrong selection. Many quarters vociferously claim that Swiss tennis god Roger Federer should have won after a splendid year.

The august bodies that pass themselves off as the authority in their field tend to make mistakes or even the unpopular vote Of course, the popular vote doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s the right one as in the case of Christelle Roelandts, more popularly known as Ms. Belgium of 1994 in the Ms. Universe Beauty Pageant that was won by India’s Sushmita Sen. Most Pinoys and their brother would have handed the tiara to her but alas, methinks I along with most everyone else would have voted so owing to raging hormones.

Awards bodies have their reasons but as history has shown us, it’s not always the proper choice who wins. To wit: in 1993, the NBA MVP Award was given to Charles Barkley after a successful first season in Phoenix. But really? All Michael Jeffrey Jordan did was win his third straight title while sandwiching a pair of gold medals in the Tournament of the Americas and the Barcelona Olympics in between. Then the NBA feted Shaquille ‘Neal as one of its 50 Greatest Players when he was a mere babe in the league having played only five years and then had zero titles to his name. And they left out Dominique Wilkins, Adrian Dantley, and quite a few more.

Boxing has oft seen all sorts of controversial decisions mucking up some really great fights. There’s that Sugar Ray Leonard match against Tommy Hearns in which the Hitman was robbed after a draw was called! There was the draw between Evander Holyfield and Lennox Lewis (that Lewis clearly won) and our own Manny Pacquiao who “lost” to Juan Miguel Marquez. Pugilists Winky Wright and Ike Quartey alone have been in so many that their record should read: wins-draws-losses-controversial matches.

Hoop Dreams, the 1994 documentary that follows the lives of two basketball players who dream of becoming professional basketball players was conspicuously left out of the Best Documentary category of 1994 Oscar Awards. And this despite the movie documentary making almost every critic’s list at the end of the year (more than Forrest Gump even). The omission forced judges to change their policy on categorizing documentaries.



What defines a “sportsman?” Very simply put, Mr. Webster defines the word as as “A person who is interested or participates in sports. A person who can take a defeat and a loss without complaint or a victory without gloating; and who treats his opponents with fairness, generosity, courtesy etc.” Astute as ever, Mr. Webster, but allow me to throw in my two centavos worth… the Sportsman of the Year is also someone who helps the sport grow, is an ambassador for the game, and isn’t besotted with controversy that offends people along the way.

If sporting competitions always demand one winner where is it written that an award cannot be shared by two players? If the MVP Award can go to a player on a losing team such as Julius Erving when his Philadelphia 76ers lost to the Boston Celtics in the Eastern Conference Finals in 1980 then surely an award can be shared by two. And so, my Sportsmen of the Year are… Roger Federer and Tiger Woods. Both have been lauded so many times in the past that perhaps a thesaurus should be have pictures of these two athletes alongside its entries for greatness and humility.

Yes, Roger Federer is on his way to break Pete Sampras’ modern record of Grand Slams won (14) and he won nearly everything in sight this year. And the man is like only what – 26 years old? The numbers that back up Federer are solid and staggering. A 92-5 match record for the year. 12 titles making it the third straight year he’s won at least 10 including three Grand Slam events. And he has shown that he can win on any surface something that stymied even some great players. It all added up to $8.3 million in prize money – the best ever by any tennis player in any year of any era. But Federer’s accomplishments don’t just end there. I noticed several times during the year that Federer spoke quite a number of times that he spoke on behalf of UNICEF. He gives back to his countrymen and to the game. Even the ballboys are in for a pizza treat after a victory.

And there’s Woods. 2006 by far isn’t his best year. That distinction belongs to 2001 when he was simply a cut above everyone else. But 2006 is remarkable and brilliant for all that transpired. In a year of tragedy and failure, he rallied and put on an incredible and clinical display of golf that left everyone shaking their heads in amazement. And considering that Woods has done that once too often and makes his accomplishments look pedestrian without being full of himself makes 2006 all the more incredible. To paraphrase former Phoenix Sun guard Frank Johnson’s assessment of MJ’s 1993 Finals performance… Tiger Woods played like Tiger Woods. Woods crosses cultural borders like no other player since Michael Jordan. He plays the game with raw emotion and has a PDA for his folks including his late father Earl whom Tiger shed tears after winning the British Open in Royal Liverpool.


I’ve seen a lot of great athletes perform both live or on TV. Perhaps one of the best compliments that I can give is to tell my children that I saw both Roger Federer and Tiger Woods play. I am so lucky.

The Brewskies

It’s that time of the year where people hand out gifts and whatnot. I on the other hand will hand out my year-end awards. Before we jump into that, a few readers asked why I chose Bleachers’ Brew as my column title. Was it because I enjoyed my Pale Pilsens every night after work? Truth to tell, Bleachers because it was there where it was fashionable to sit in the 80s during UAAP (and the NCAA too since like time immemorial) basketball. That was where the action was. Yes, I heckled one too many opposing players and coaches, not to mention fans. And yes, we rumbled. The Brew part comes from the great Miles Davis’ Bitches’ Brew. I love Miles’ music but so that you know, on heavy rotation on my player is an eclectic selection of Narda, Hard-Fi, British Sea Power, John Boswell, Santana, and Bob Marley.

So now that you know, on to the first-ever Brewskies. You’ll see none of the Best Basketball Player of the Year stuff here. There are enough awards shows for that in the world. Instead, I thought I’d concentrate on the nitty-gritty in between. Those who made the year in sports all the more memorable. The envelopes please… (And someone hisses in the background, “Take it. Take it.”).

Best Sports Moment – Tiger Woods winning the British Open. (Damn. That was
touching and awesome.)

Most Exciting Finish – UAAP Men’s Basketball Finals Game 1 (Top that!)

Most Over-hyped Match of the Year – Pacquiao-Larios (Total showbiz crap!)

Sudden Impact Athlete of the Year – the African Lion… Sam Ekwe

Best Interview – Pido Jarencio of the UST Tigers

The World Cup Moment – Zinedine Zidane’s heabutt on mealy-mouthed Marco
Materazzi that decided the World Cup’s outcome right there and then.

Most Generous Award – Brian Viloria for handing over the belt to Omar Nino
Romero in their first match (but isn’t that the spirit of Christmas?)
Runner-Up: Coca Cola Tigers for giving Rudy Hatfield, Billy Mamaril, and Rafi Reavis to Ginebra for almost nothing.

Most Gruesome Injury Caught on Video – Michael Owen during the World Cup

In A Zone Award – Kobe Bryant scoring 81 points

Upset of the Year – JRU against UST in the Collegiate Champions League

Chris Webber Memorial Award – Josh Howard for his ill-advised time out in
Game 5 of the NBA Finals

Rivalry of the Year – Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal
Runner-Up: PCU vs. Letran (these two teams have eliminated one another the past couple of years in the NCAA)

Cain & Abel Award – Rico Villanueva and Joseph Yeo

No Balls Award – UAAP Board for their handling of the DLSU basketball
scandal

This Year’s Michael Jordan Model – Dwyane Wade

Born Again Award – Ruud Van Nistelrooy in Real Madrid

Most Heart-rending Moment – the aftermath of UAAP Men’s Basketball Finals
Game 3 for Ateneans everywhere
Runner-Up: Adam Morrisson on the floor after Gonzaga lost in the US NCAA title game (definitely not a good year for Jesuit schools in basketball finals)

Dubious Distinction Award* – (this award comes with an asterisk) Barry Bonds.
Runner-Up: Mark McGwire

Two Thumbs Down Award - (for sports dictatorship and being no fun at all):
David Stern for his Zero Tolerance Policy and his ramming the new Spalding Ball down the NBA players’ throats.
Runner-Up: the NFL for their outlawing end zone celebrations.

Most X-rated Scene in Sports – Maria Sharapova eating a banana

Toothless Aggression Awards – Efren “Bata” Reyes and Ronnie Alcano.

Un-Fair Play Award – FIFA for deceiving MasterCard their long-time major
sponsor whom they dumped for VISA (who they also mislead during negotiations for World Cups 2008 and 2012)

Che Guevara Award – Red Auerbach for being a revolutionary genius in the
game of basketball

As a parting shot, just like every awards show where some makes a political statement, here is mine… Malacañang should release a disaster relief fund for our Asian Games contingent. If they call for knee-jerk investigations into billboard suppliers (read: Milenyo), building safety violations (read: Ozone), overloading of ships (read: Doña Paz), then they should investigate our sports leaders for the outcome during the Asian Games. Just imagine, our boxers not even being outfitted properly! Somehow, the SEA Games of last year seem like a distant memory.

Talking Smack

As a kid, I was enthralled each time I’d catch ABC’s The Wide World of Sports.. Hearing Jim McKay’s stentorian voice, “Spanning the globe to bring you the constant variety of sports... the thrill of victory... and the agony of defeat... the human drama of athletic competition," is forever imprinted in my mind.

Perhaps, the only similar opening line that carries more weight isn’t even spoken (I’ll give you a hint; it goes like this: “da-da-dat. da-da-dat”).

As much as I love sports telecasts for giving me a ringside seat to all the action, sports movies have a special place in my heart. I watch them for their ability to inspire and make me laugh. They send me to the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. They don’t match the actual drama of the 1998 NBA Finals or the 2001 World Series, but for sheer entertainment value, it’s not bad. These movies follow that time-honored plot of beginning, rising action, climax, descending action, and denouement. They may be formulaic, but they make for great storytelling. Let me explain by using some of the best sports movie lines ever.

Six Degrees of Separation (The Plot)
Ernie: I'm a baseball scout. I saw you playing today. Not bad, not bad. You ever heard of Walter Harvey, makes Harvey bars - you know, the candy?Dottie: Yeah. We feed them to the cows when they're constipated.Ernie: That's the guy. He's starting a girls' baseball league, so he can make a buck while the boys are overseas. Wanna play?Dottie: Huh?Ernie: Nice retort. Tryouts are in Chicago. It's a real league. Professional.Kit: Professional baseball?Ernie: Mmm-hmm. They'll pay you 75 dollars a week.Kit: We only make 30 at the dairy.Ernie: Well then, this would be more, wouldn't it?

Jerry: "I will not rest until I have you holding a Coke, wearing your own shoe, playing a Sega game - featuring you - while singing your own song in a new commercial - starring you - broadcast during the Superbowl, in a game that you are winning, and I will not sleep until that happens. I'll give you fifteen minutes to call me back."

John: Is this heaven?
Ray: It's - it's Iowa.
John: I could have sworn it was heaven.
Ray: Is there a heaven?
John: Oh, yeah. It's the place where dreams come true.
Ray: Maybe this is heaven.
Jergens: What exactly are you looking for Apollo? Apollo: This is who I'm looking for. The Italian Stallion. Jergens: Rocky Balboa? Never heard of him. Apollo: Look, it's the name man. The I-talian Stallion. The media will eat it up. Now who discovered America? An Italian, right? What better way to get it on than with one of his descendants? Trainer: He's a southpaw. I don't want you messing with southpaws. They do everything backwards. Apollo: Southpaw nothing. I'll drop him in three. Apollo Creed meets the Italian Stallion. Now that sounds like a damn monster movie.

The Golden Child (Enter the Hero)
Coach Herman: Now wait a minute, I am not the answer to your prayers. I’m not a savior, Jesus Christ, Martin Luther King or the Easter Bunny. I’m a football coach, that’s all.
Charles: Just a football coach? You are our coach!

Mike: Mike Eruzione! Winthrop, Massachusetts! I play for the United States of America!

Reporter: Awful lotta hoopla for such a little horse.Red: Though he be but little, he is fierce.Reporter: What's that?Red: That's Shakespeare, boys, Shakespeare.

Why can’t we all just get along here? (Conflict)
Coach Norman: First of all, let's be real friendly here, okay? My name is Norm. Secondly, your coaching days are over. George: Look, mister, there's... two kinds of dumb, uh... guy that gets naked and runs out in the snow and barks at the moon, and guy who does the same thing in my living room. First one don't matter, the second one you're kinda forced to deal with. Coach Norman: Translate. That some sort of threat? George: I don't know why Cletus dragged your tired old bones in here. He musta owed you somethin' fierce. Fact is, mister, you start screwin' up this team, I'll personally hide-strap your ass to a pine rail and send you up the Monon Line! [George angrily turns and storms out of the gym] Coach Norman: Leave the ball, will you, George?

Kate: If you're so bored, why don't you read?Doug: You mean like a book?Kate: That is the generally accepted format, yes. What was the last book you read? You were in college?Doug: The last thing I read in college was a letter canceling my scholarship when I couldn't play anymore.Kate: Okay, high school.Doug: I was a hockey player. The only thing I had to read was a scoreboard.Kate: And they graduated you?Doug: They revered me. I was a God.Kate: What a tragic commentary on our times.

Mickey: Ah, Rocky Marciano. Ya know, ya kinda remind me of the Rock, ya know that?
Rocky: You really think so?
Mickey: Ya move like him. Ya got heart like he did.
Rocky: I got heart but I ain’t got no locker, do I, Mick?

Gonna Fly Now (Getting his act together)
Hatch: Where do I stand for a corner kick?

Herman: Petey how many feet are in a mile? How many?Petey: I dunno.Herman: 5,280! And you will take this ball and run every single one of them! You’re killing me Petey! You’re killing me!

Jimmy: Baseball is what lights you up. What gets you excited. You can’t deny that.
Dottie: It just got too hard.
Jimmy: It’s supposed to be hard. If it wasn’t too hard, everyone would do it. That’s what makes it great.

The Divine Gipper (Waxing poetic)
Irv: Now a lot of coaches would be giving you one of these one of these “one for the Gipper” speeches. I’m not good at that stuff. Instead, I thought I’d lead you in a psalm of inspiration.
Sanka: Who’s the Gipper?
Irv: Our Father, who art in Calgary, Bobsled be thy name. Thy kingdom come, gold medals won, on Earth as it is in Turn Seven. With Liberty and Justice for Jamaica and Haile Selassie. Amen.

Jimmy: Uh, Lord, hallowed be Thy name. May our feet be swift; may our bats be mighty; may our balls be plentiful. Lord, I'd just like to thank You for that waitress in South Bend. You know who she is - she kept calling Your name. And God, these are good girls, and they work hard. Just help them see it all the way through. Okay, that's it.

Tony: You’ll find out life's this game of inches, so is football. The inches we need are everywhere around us. They're in every break of the game, every minute, every second. On this team we fight for that inch. On this team we tear ourselves and everyone else around us to pieces for that inch. We claw with our fingernails for that inch. Because we know when add up all those inches, that's gonna make the difference between winning and losing! Between living and dying!


Victory (The moment of truth)
(After hitting a homerun) Roger: Curveball?
Mickey: Yeah, but it didn't curve.

Jesus: Basketball is like poetry in motion, cross the guy to the left, take him back to the right, he's fallin’ back, then just J right in his face. Then you look at him and say, "What?"

Jack: C'mon, it ain't over till the fat lady sings! Toshi: [translating to the team] When the game is over, a fat lady will sing to us!

Tony: On any given Sunday you're gonna win or you're gonna lose. The point is - can you win or lose like a man?

When the Lights Go Down (The aftermath)
Tom: Hey, we're sorry about all that stuff we said before you hit that homer...Stan: Yeah, you wouldn't be anywhere if it wasn't for Roseanne.

Lou: Today, I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the Earth.

Roy: I coulda been better. I coulda broke every record in the book. Iris::And then? Roy: And then when I walked down the street people would've looked and they would've said there goes Roy Hobbs, the best there ever was in this game.

William: People always say to me, "When you get to the NBA, don't forget about me." Well, I should've said back, "If I don't make it to the NBA, don't you forget about me."

Go west

On the 11th month of the year, the Philippines leapfrogged 11 slots from a #195 ranking in the footballing world to #184. The three consecutive victories were the most we had since the 1950’s when guys like Ed Ocampo and Vic Sison donned the national colors.

Part of the credit goes to the sterling performance of the Fil-foreigners on the team. They add a huge advantage and a different dimension to our game, but for many people, it’s a short-fix solution to the problem. Myself included.

To my close friends, I’ve always decried the preponderance of our culture in the last quarter of the century over things foreign. These Fil-foreigners are everywhere: in showbiz, in modeling, in sports, and in music. I chafe at they way we celebrate that Nicole of the Pussycat Dolls is “Proudly Pinoy Made” as it says in the stickers that are tacked onto CDs. Sure I’m somewhat proud that she’s of our kin, but I’d rather not make too big a deal out of her and instead give the props and support to the local band scene (note that I said “scene” not music industry) that saw them outselling foreign releases for the first time ever.

We proudly champion a Filipino as the all-time top scorer of FC Barcelona. But wasn’t he part Spanish too? Isn’t it more accurate to call him a Spaniard of mixed ancestry more than Filipino? After all, he competed more and worked more for Spain.

Remember how the possibility of recruiting American swimming Olympian Natalie Coughlin into our national team was bandied about because her grandmother is from Bulacan. Sure Natalie would help, but what does that say to our local swimmers: Sorry, girls. These Fil-Ams have better training and exposure so why don’t you stick to the Palarong Pambansa or what we have and the UAAP okay?

The 1987 Philippine Constitution defines a Filipino citizen as one who was born in the country during the time of the adoption of the Constitution; those whose father or mother are Filipino citizens; those who were born to a Filipina mother before January 17, 1973 and elect to have Philippine citizenship upon reaching the age of the majority; and those who are naturalized under the law.

Fine. But why are we so crazy to trump up those who chose to go to foreign shores to find their fame and fortune as opposed to the ones who left behind? James Bradley in his book Flags of our Fathers says that his father, John Henry Bradley, one of the six men to raise the US flag at the top of Mt. Suribachi in Iwo Jima, never considered himself a hero. The true heroes of Iwo Jima, he protested, were those who died on the island. I also think labels that declare OFWs as Filipino heroes are politically slanted and full of crap. Kaya nga umalis kasi feeling walang kinabukasan dito sa Pinas. I believe the heroes of our sporting scene are those who give their due by playing for their schools and their country and those who toil every day to compete in anonymity only to get bumped off because of the lack of funds and backers.

New York Yankee slugger Jason Giambi is of Italian lineage but do we hear the people from Naples or Rome trump him up any more than Francesco Totti or Marco Materazzi? In America, people are careful with distinctions such as “African-Americans” or “Mexican-Americans” because of the potential for malice and racial stereotyping. The US soldiers killed in Iraq whatever their ethnic origin will always be counted as “American KIAs” not anything else.

The roots of all this began with the Northern Consolidated Team of Ron Jacobs that had Chip Engelland, Dennis Still, and Jeff Moore. Controversial naturalized players who lead us to victory in the Jones Cup and elsewhere. But where are they now? The PBA which really kicked this Fil-Am mess into overdrive trumpeted the arrival of these foreigners as a means of elevating the game. When guys like Rob Parker and Sonny Alvardo ran afoul of the law, we promptly proclaimed them as shams. And when some of them brawled their way into the tabloid pages, it was said, lahing Kano kasi. And by the way, quite a few of these Fil-Ams who first came here are no longer in the league. They were drafted because they were Fil-Ams. Were they even scouted?

When Brian Viloria burst upon the boxing scene we were so proud of his Pinoy roots. Now that he’s lost two straight, he’s consigned to the footnote as we choose to focus on Manny. Buti na lang sabi ni Michael Buffer na taga-Waipahu, Hawaii siya at hindi taga-Ilocos, said some wags.

Some of those who competed in the last SEA Games finally came over after being invited like forever. Some finally acquiesced because their careers have stalled and they’re looking elsewhere to revive their careers.

Do we think so low of ourselves that we have to look for foreigners to wear our national colors? Our local sporting scene is so grossly bad that outside basketball, boxing, billiards, and bowling --- the “B” sports --- the others are left to fend for themselves. Then when someone from the other sports wins, they make that courtesy call to politicians who could use the photo op.

Our national sports officials spend more time bickering and politicking than prepping our athletes. Before the recent ASEAN Football Qualifiers, our coaching staff had no idea about the opposition we were facing. Before we won three straight, people said our football scene sucks. When we made the finals, people said that well, we played against teams that were ranked lower than us. Incidentally it’s only Timor Leste that’s ranked lower than us. It’s a no-win situation I tell you.

How do we arrest this? Here is an easier-said-than-done proposal:
Take a long hard look at the agencies that run our sports programs. They’re too politically motivated. Two years ago, I directed a photo shoot for past and present athletes for a traveling photo exhibit in schools throughout the country. I spoke to 40 athletes and all of them told horror stories of the corruption in sports.
Have a comprehensive grassroots program to build athletic champions. Utilize the Fil-foreigners to augment our program, not to populate it at the expense of our locals. And if the Fil-foreigners are serious about competing in the national team, then they should spend quite some time here training with our athletes and coaches.
Re-allocate some of the money that goes to our politicos to the building of centers of excellence.

The message we’re sending is that we think the Fil-foreigners stand a better chance of competing with their training and exposure abroad. Let me make it clear. I am not against Fil-foreigners. I’m happy for their success and what they bring to their respective countries, clubs or organizations. The point I am trying to make is that we put things in their proper perspective.

After the end of the ASEAN Football Qualifiers in Bacolod, one football official scoffed at the ill feelings of those cut in favor of the Fil-foreigners by saying “they (those who were cut) had their chance and that they didn’t win before.” Maybe that’s true. Maybe that’s somewhat incorrect.

Whatever. Isn’t it ironic that they went to the land of opportunity only to find their opportunities were back here in the Philippines?

We go to the Scorecards

Go figure.

18, 276 people in the Thomas & Mack Center. The second biggest in the arena’s history.
Ringside seats cost $500 per ticket for 9 matches (including all the undercards). That’s like $55.50 per match.
130 pounds for each fighter to make during the weigh in.
Morales weighed 139 pounds and Pacquiao 144 after the weigh in.
10 months between all three Pacquiao-Morales meetings.
First bout went 12 rounds. Second bout had 10. And the third match, 3 rounds.
It took eight minutes and fifty-seven seconds to complete the Trilogy. The introductions and signing of the National Anthems was longer by 2 minutes.
94 punches Manny Pacquiao landed on Erik Morales out of 175 attempts. That’s 54% marksman rate for the Champ. 51 of those punches were in the third round. 1 solid punch to Morales’ left jaw sent him down to his knees against the ropes in the second round and a flurry of shots that sent him down twice in the third.
1 knockdown suffered by Morales in 50 matches (not counting his bouts with Pacman) and that was a questionable one at the hands of Marco Antonio Barrera. 5 knockdowns against Pacquiao in three highly memorable matches.
$3 million plus made by Manny Pacquiao that’s $5,586.60 per second.
$2.75 million made by Erik Morales that’s $5,121 per second.
The first two fights attracted over 700,000 HBO PPV subscriptions. At $50 PPV that’s $35 million. So by estimate, the third fight should have grossed at the very least $17, 500,000.
338 cinemas, 24 cable operators, and 80+ closed circuit venues all over the Philippines;
7 cities and 7 mayors in Metro Manila;
1 school (Ateneo De Manila);
1 radio station (Radio Mindanao Network in conjunction with Solar),
and the country’s #1 terrestrial channel and #1 cable channel to broadcast the fight.
After Pacman’s victory last January, there were 6 billboards in EDSA alone that featured Manny. Before the Grand Finale, there was only 1 -- the humongous Nike billboard along Guadalupe. Expect there to be more after this.
And there are 82 million Filipinos all over the world who are ecstatic over the win (43-3-2, 33 KOs for the Pambansang Kamao).

Eight minutes and fifty-seven seconds. That’s all it took to end one legend and for another to grow and live on. Manny Pacquiao’s sensational third round knockout of Erik Morales is for us Filipino fight fans the perfect end for one of boxing’s greatest trilogies.

Mabuhay ka, Manny Pacquiao.

Let’s go celebrate!

A Pair of Football Stories

The Resurrection
They’ve scored an astounding 252 goals in 75 matches. That’s an average of 3.36 goals per game. Not bad at all. Their women’s counterparts on the other hand refuse to be outdone. In 46 matches, they’ve scored 224 goals for an average of 4.8 goals per game.

It’s mind-boggling until you realize that’s what the foreign teams have done to our men’s and women’s national football teams in the last 21 and 15 years respectively.

In that span, our men’s football team has won six games and drew another six while scoring 36 goals of their own. The longest losing streak was 15 matches from 1996-98 but it would have been much longer had they not beaten Guam 2-0 in an Asian Cup Qualifier for they would go on to lose their next nine.

The women’s national team has had it worse: they’ve only one victory to show and one loss. They’ve suffered a pair of drubbings by the People’s Republic of China in the mid-90’s 21-0 and 16-0 and a 15-0 rout by Japan in 2003. It’s a wonder they still troop to the pitch.

Things are said to be going much better however slowly. Just the other day, National Team coach Aris Caslib decried the lack of intel on our foes for the Asean Football Championships (formerly the Tiger Cup) that is being played in our own backyard of Bacolod. The football braintrust can only base their information on Cambodia, Laos, Brunei, and Timor Leste from how they performed during last year’s SEA Games.

We are currently ranked #195 out of # 205 footballing nations. Look who’s after us: Anquilla, Cook Islands, Belize, Djibouti, Sao Tome Principe, Aruba, US Virgin Islands, Montserrat, Guam, and American Samoa.

But you know what they say about when you’re down, the only way to go... is up. “With more and more people playing football nowadays,” says PFF President Johnny Romualdez, “Part of the problem is having experienced coaches to train the players.” The PFF recently helped bring in Andalusian Coaches for a 10-day training clinic for 50 of our national coaches. The inclusion of Fil-foreigners into the national team is part of the plan to effect transfer technology. The grassroots program such as the Kasibulan Youth (of the Davao Football Association) and the Under-14 boys’ and girls’ teams among many others are underway. More and more teams are being sent abroad to learn the intricacies of the game and to be exposed to a higher level of competition. Romualdez is cautioning Filipinos not to expect changes overnight. It will take some more time before we start to see bigger changes. But the national teams have been more competitive as of late. Gone are the days of those demoralizing blowouts. In the last SEA Games, opponents marveled at the National Team’s more competitive nature. For the first time in years, the football stadia in Bacolod and Marikina played to packed crowds. Football officials are hoping that the last SEA Games and the recent FIFA World Cup would continue to fans the flames of interest and growth of football to a fever pitch with the ASEAN Football Championship in Bacolod. “It’s an exciting time for Philippine football,” adds Romuladez. “We’re beginning our march towards respectability.”

Allez, Les Bleus!
England and France may sit as permanent members on the United Nation’s Security Council now but back then, theirs was a brutal relationship that is best known collectively as the Hundred Years’ War. Of course, matters today between the two countries are a far cry from the medieval times. The peace and prosperity of post-World War II has catapulted both countries into the world arena in ways their ancestors never conceived. But the rivalry still exists.

England is widely credited as the “inventor” of the game and the domestic English Premiere League is said to be one of the best leagues in the world today. How ironic is it then that a handful of Frenchmen have been accorded some of the highest honors in the EPL.

Arsene Wenger is the most successful manager in Arsenal’s history. The Strasbourg native has secured for the Gunners the most number of silverware and is the club’s current longest-running manager with over 550 matches to date. He is the only foreign-born manager to win the Double (the League and FA Cup) in EPL history and he accomplished it twice – 1998 and 2002. He led the Gunners to the only undefeated season in EPL history (in 2004). Wenger has been knighted OBE by Queen Elizabeth herself.

Former Liverpool manager Gerard Houllier is another Frenchman knighted OBE. After a vastly successful six-year tenure with the Reds, Houllier is now in the midst of another successful run with Olympique Lyonnais, the defending Ligue 1 champions. With Liverpool, he won six trophies including a rare Treble in one season.

Thierry Henry plays for Arsene Wenger in Arsenal where he has become the club’s all-time leading scorer surpassing the great Ian Wright’s 185-club goals in 2005. After a failed stint with Juventus, Henry transferred to Arsenal where Wenger moved him from the win to the position of striker. To date, it remains one of Wenger’s masterstrokes for aside from Henry’s 200+ goals; he is the only player in EPL history to score 25 goals in five consecutive seasons.

Since we began this column on the Hundred Years’ War maybe its best that we end this with the man known in Old Trafford as “the King.” Eric Cantona helped launch Manchester United into a new era of prosperity during his seven-year hitch with the Red Devils helping them to the first Double ever in English football history while mentoring young studs David Beckham, Gary Neville, Ryan Giggs, and Paul Scholes. Almost decades after he hung up his spikes from the pitch, the crowds at Old Trafford still sing the King’s name.

Elvis Has Left the Building

The King is gone. He isn’t too far removed from this generation who will remember the 90’s with the fondness of tales by the fireside, by the bar, or among sports fora. Michael Jordan who has six rings as opposed to Bill Russell’s 11 has been proclaimed to be the greatest since his Chicago Bulls accomplished 2 trifectas in an age when dynasties are impossible.

Even in the midst of His Airness reign, his throne was constantly beset with pretenders anointed by shoe advertising campaigns and agents who secured bank-busting contracts even before their clients played an NBA minute. Grant Hill, Harold Miner, Jerry Stackhouse, Vince Carter, Tracy McGrady, Kobe Bryant, Lebron James, and Dwyane Wade to name a few have been oft compared with the Great One. Of the eight; two so far have won NBA titles. A few others may very well win one before they call it a career but what’s this with comparisons with the Great One.

When the Bulls won their third straight in 1992-93, Bill Russell was asked in the middle of a golf game what he thought of the Bulls’ accomplishment. Replied the Lord of the Rings, “Not much. Let’s talk when they’ve won eight straight.” Russ will forever be one of the all-time greats and he has earned every right to talk so since his Boston Celtics won 11 titles in 13 seasons. The man has a championship ring for every finger and one toe. How’s that for the ultimate bragging rights?

Russ was great for his time (16 teams and 2 rounds of play-off ball). In an age of free agency, 29 NBA franchises, rap albums, and an uncanny sixth sense for ESPn (pun intended) highlights, eight straight is downright impossible. Of course there are those who say that MJ’s Bulls would have won eight straight had he not gone to chase curve balls (as much as I am a Bulls fan I don’t believe eight straight would have possible) but I’m here not to extol the greatness of MJ. Many have done so before me and in a much more verbose way. I’m writing because I chafe at media’s constant comparisons between MJ and this year’s Next-Jordan Model. SLAM years ago proclaimed Grant Hill to be just like Jordan... only better. Uh huh. Boy, were they red in the face after that. Grant... I love his game, but right now – overall, he’s gone nowhere just like wife Tamia’s singing career (Ouch!). Kobe Bryant’s 11-year career in the NBA is spectacular by any standard, but he gets as much rap for his petulance and his game. Vinsanity? The only thing he has in common is that he’s a former slam dunk cham and an UNC alum.


Chris Ekstrand recently wrote in his Inside the NBA column in Sports Illustrated of Lebron James’ potential to surpass Jordan in terms of accomplishments. Of course that’s definitely possible. Even MJ acknowledged that in his book For the Love of the Game: My Story that someone will one day surpass him (I think he sort of implied Kobe to be the Air Apparent in his book).

Now let me get this straight, I think Lebron is an awesome player and will probably win an NBA title before he abdicates from his throne, but can he simply be Lebron James, Cleveland Cavaliers swingman? People love to compare all the time since it makes for great discussion and debate. But puh-leeze, none of the aforementioned are anywhere close even in their respective careers with the one true king Michael Jordan!

Lebron won his first play-off series a year before MJ? C’mon, Michael brought his team to the play-offs every year of his Bulls career! In only his second play-offs, he already began to carve out his legend with no small thanks to Larry Bird’s “God-disguised-as-Michael-Jordan quote.” Lebron has played in the Olympics and the FIBA worlds already and the first time up, he was benched. In Saitama, Japan, he disappeared when he was needed leaving Carmelo and D-Wade to hold the fort. Jordan has two Gold Medals from Los Angeles and Barcelona and a Gold from the Tournament of the Americas (won in Portland) prior to the 1992 summer Games. Remember how Spanish guard Fernando Martin described his memories of the 1984 Olympics’ Men’s Basketball Finals: “Jordan. He jump, jump, and jump.”

Lebron for the most part last season was pilloried for not wanting to take the last shot. He would pass off to Damon Jones or to Flip Murray. James reasoned that, “Clutch playing means knowing what kind of play to make at he last minute. It could mean a pass that leads to a basket or a stop.” Well, it could also mean you don’t want the responsibility. Heck even Kobe would want the ball in crunchtime during his rookie year. Toni Kukoc wanted the ball in his hands every time out! I remember him missing a last second shot in a play that was called for him – not Nick Van Exel or Eddie Jones or Cedric Ceballos, but Kobe. He missed and was distraught over that, but Chick Hearn went on to say that he’ll be making many of that in years to come. Incidentally Hearn once worked as a fortune teller at # 1111 South Figueroa St. in downtown LA (that’s the address for Staples Center in case you haven’t been there).

So with Lebron... let’s not even bother with the stats coz that’s all he has for now. Let’s talk 10 years from now and maybe I’ll be eating humble pie.

King James... that’s a pretty snazzy campaign that Nike came up with during his rookie year. Chamber of Fear, his sophomore ad campaign (something out of a Quentin Tarantino film) and the latest, Meet the Lebrons are eye-catching and witty. But right now... he’s just another highlight reel – hey, I did like his slam over the Big Fundamental the other day. One play-off win doesn’t mean much. Karl Malone made the Finals twice. Ditto with Jason Kidd, but their stints will also be remembered for their futility.

Whether rightly or wrongly, winning is how these players will eventually be judged. Lebron looks good in his career path right now. He might even win a title or two. Even in Fantasy Leagues, he’s just as ideal for his propensity to rack up good numbers, but right now, there is only one king of the NBA and he already left the building.

Hmm. Did I just compare Michael Jordan to Elvis Presley?

Laying the Smackdown

Were you one of those who stayed up till 10:30pm (while hiding from your disapproving parents) to watch pro wrestling on IBC-13? Were you one of those who borrowed tapes of Wrestlemania, the Royal Rumble, and the Survivor Series and who would watch it till the tape was eaten up by your VCR? Were you one to scrounge the PDPI magazine stalls (before the advent of Book Sale) for Pro Wrestling Illustrated just for any morsel of info about your fave wrestlers?

I was one and to this day, it is an eternal happy thought of the rite of adolescence as much as sports and girls were. Only now I’m an adult and still enjoy it as much as my kids.

Pro wrestlers were my comic book heroes made flesh and blood. They were larger than life, lived large like rock stars, and had all the babes. Not bad for someone in tights and spandex. I loved the Hart Foundation and practiced the sharpshooter on my brother (yeah, I know you’re not supposed to try this at home but still...). I stomped around the house like the Bushwhackers. I grappled the clothesline like the Ultimate Warrior, and posed like the immortal Hulk Hogan. Yep, they sure were fun days (although my parents did wonder if I was a little strange and was the result of my overactive imagination).

My dad... taught me sports but decried my love for pro wrestling. Too fake. Too overly dramatic. Too much acting he said. At least they’re better actors than those who appeared in adult films, I replied in defense. No doubt my rebuttal raised his eyebrow that nearly reached his hairline (in a harbinger of the Rock’s People’s Eyebrow that was to come more than a decade later).

What makes pro wrestling interesting and fun to watch isn’t just the ring skills but the storylines that went along with them. Were you one of those who couldn’t wait for the impending implosion of the volatile tag team of Randy “the Macho Man” Savage and Hulk Hogan? Who was (that Victoria Principal look-alike) Ms. Elizabeth going to side with? Like wow. It was just as compelling as the next Tanduay-Ginebra skirmish.

The first ever pro wrestling match that I watched live was Wrestlemania XX at Madison Square Garden. Yup. It cost me as much as that pricey ticket to the Curiosa Tour at Randall’s Island but it was well worth it. In the days preceding Wrestlemania, the Nature Boy Rick Flair, the Undertaker, and Kane made an appearance at Toy’s R Us in Times Square and the line just snaked all the way towards 49th Street. Staring at the Undertaker seemed to be alright as he was almost as tall of those buildings and the neon signs of Broadway. One time I worked half day just to get the autographs and my pix taken with Torrie Wilson and Sable who were on the cover of a premiere men’s magazine (I was with a Latino friend of mine who does adult movies hahaha) only to find my boss in line as well. In fact, when they’d put those World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE) DVDs on sale at the Hudson Mall in Jersey City (10 bucks a pop and that is mondo cheap), I had to contend with those oafs who pushed their way towards the Sale rack as if DVDs were going out of style that I nearly gave one of them a suplex off the cash register (Well, I thought about it ala Bill Watterson’s Calvin and Hobbes fame).

Professional wrestling’s popularity has boomed through the stratosphere and has left no one unturned. The catch phrases of DX, the Rock, and Stone Cold Steve Austin have become a part of the lingo of a new generation. I’d repeat some of them here except that this is... ahem, a business newspaper’s sports section not some frat house party. Long after Hulk Hogan and Andre the Giant (ever see the Prince’s Bride?) seemed to have a monopoly on Hollywood, Kevin Nash (the Punisher), the Rock (countless movies now), Bill Goldberg (Universal Soldier), Triple H (Blade Trinity), and now John Cena (the upcoming movie titled the Marine) have invaded the big screen.

After last Saturday’s Smackdown at the Araneta Coliseum (the crowd during the Raw Tour was infinitely better), I was buying food for my kids at KFC in Shopwise when I inadvertently read the text of the lady in front of me --- Panalo si Batista. DQ kasi pumasok si Finlay at (William) Regal. Wow. Last time I checked, people texted the final scores of games; box scores even. Hey, it’s San Beda vs. UE for the National Championship, you know?

The merchandise and tickets I purchased from that night set me back several thousand quid, but to see my kids enjoy themselves for a couple of hours was worth it. The night before there were trucks and trucks of soldiers in full battle gear along EDSA and near the road leading down to Monte Vista where I live had a checkpoint (during the RAW Tour last time around, the metropolis was on coup alert). Whether this had any connection with the political stand-off in Makati I have no idea but the fact that the Smackdown Tour got my mind off the never-ending political foibles of this country was also worth it.

On our way to the car, we came across a man with s un-burned face who looked well into his forties and was noisily talking on his mobile phone:
Man: Uuwi ako ng Bacolod sa Monday. (pause) Sayang nga. Wala si Rey Mysterio. At panalo si Batista.

He must have been one of those who stayed up late at night to watch wrestling on IBC-13 while hiding from his parents.

CCL: They Might Be Giants

For the longest time, US college basketball was way more popular than the NBA. It took the entrance of the star forward from the Indiana State Sycamores and the Michigan State Spartans in the 1979-80 season to revive interest in the pro game. The NBA has since grown from the drug-addled stupor of the 70’s to a prefab global brand but US college hoops remains wildly popular and more so when March Madness (the 64-team NCAA tourney) begins. In fact, the madness in the NCAA’s virtual win-or-go-home format isn’t mere hype… it’s a way of life.

Domestically, in the mind of Johnny Q. Public, the soupcon of alphabet college leagues is dominated by the UAAP and the local version of the NCAA as the very best in the land. Never mind that in the south there are just as many talented or even better teams plying their trade in near anonymity.

All that is about to change.

The Collegiate Champions League (CCL) is on its fourth straight year (and first with the new format). It pits the best teams of the UAAP, NCAA, NCRAA, NAASCU, UCAA, CSAFI, NOPSCEA, and DCAA in a Sweet Sixteen affair to declare the one true national champion. For the first time in years, it’s the actual Team A (or the school’s best line-ups) that are fielded in the competition. It’s also the first year that wild card berths were awarded. And it’s the first time the media was brought in to the mix by seeding the teams by voting.

The crowds have turned out and the games have been tremendously exciting yet there is still the perception that it’s just the CCL. As Solar Sports’ VP for Sports Marketing Jude Turcuato opines that the CCL cannot compete with 60 and 80 years of tradition. What it can do is create the tournament where the one true National Champion is declared. The plan to change people’s perceptions isn’t going to be accomplished overnight. It’s a three-year plan to make it just as popular as the other leagues if not the most popular.

For the millions of followers of the US NCAA’s, there are two questions that come to mind when the tourney begins: 1) Who will be this year’s National Champion and 2) Which highly-fancied teams will be upset by some virtual unknowns? Teams like Valparaiso, Gonzaga, and George Mason don’t have the TV time and media attention of traditional powers like Duke, UConn, or Kentucky to name a few. But they’ve made their own stirring runs in the standings and into American national consciousness. In fact, Gonzaga, previously known in trivia games as all-time NBA great John Stockton’s alma mater, has since the late 90s become a mainstay in the tourney bringing it much national attention and an influx of dollars by tournament fees, royalties, and generous alumni. Its student population has increased and its players (including last year’s NCAA player of the Year Adam Morrison) are no longer unknowns.

This year’s CCL has begun to replicate the excitement of the US NCAA’s. So far, there have been some pretty close matches: University of the East vs. Emilio Aguinaldo College (64-60), San Beda College vs. National University (74-72), and University of Santo Tomas vs. Jose Rizal University (63-65).

As for those looking for Cinderella finishes, there’s the University of Visayas as coached by former pro player al Solis knocking out the Adamson Falcons in Bogs Adornado’s Head Coaching debut 70-67, and the tourney’s giant-killer… JRU.

JRU marched into newly-crowned UAAP champion the UST Growling Tigers’ home floor in España and not only knocked them around black-and-blue but celebrated on the Tigers’ floor after a highly improbable 65-63 win. The Heavy Bombers bombed out of the last NCAA campaign with a 4-10 record and availed of the three wild card berths for the CCL. They haven’t only turned heads but they’ve played terrific defense. JRU held UST to 0-18 field goal shooting the 4th quarter of their match (UST’s only points were two freebies from the lane by Dylan Ababou) while coming back from a double-digit deficit to win.

Last Saturday, October 14, the Heavy Bombers struck again by blindsiding NCAA foe Letran 64-58. Letran, proud owners of 16 NCAA titles with a seven-game win skein against the Shaw Boulevard-based squad dating back to 2003 was suckered out of their slick pound-it-inside game and was forced to take 21 three-point attempts (as opposed to JRU’s 15 attempts). Now what makes this point interesting is that the three-pointer is JRU’s primary weapon. JRU’s stingy defense forced the Knights into 34% field goal shooting as Floyd Dedicatoria (who finished 2nd to SBC’s Sam Ekwe in NCAA MVP voting) and JM Wilson took it right into the heart of Letran’s defense to continue the Heavy Bombers’ Cinderella run into this tournament.

That same day, the #8 seed Mapua on the other hand beat the #1 seed Ateneo De Manila 70-66 in the last game of Macky Escalona, JC Intal, and Doug Kramer in Ateneo’s dress blues.

The Final Four cast has been set. It’s San Beda vs. JRU and Mapua vs. UE. Each and every one of them have their own stories heading into the October 19 match-up. And the way this CCL is shaping up, they might be giants of the collegiate basketball scene.

October

I used to have great memories of October. In grade school, there was the Feast of the Guardian Angels and that meant there was a carnival on the school grounds and that we had no classes (more so later in college as we had those badly needed sembreaks). There was the October medal that we wore as a sign of our devotion to Our Lady. October also meant that Halloween was around the corner and we could go trick or treating. Back in our history class, we studied about Red October and the Cuban Missile Crisis (that took place on… you guessed right, this month). It’s also the title of U2’s second and only lame duck album who’s only contribution to their canon is the rousing “Gloria.” When I lived in America, it also meant that there was Colombus Day (although the only Italian in me was my predilection towards the Sopranos, Joe DiMaggio, pizza at Ray’s in Greenwich Village, and Juventus). While living in Princeton, New Jersey, I would walk around the campus late in the afternoon and watch the crystalline sheen on the buildings and window panes as the fast-fading sunlight bore the hint of another winter chill to come.

But October also meant the end to two sporting events that I have followed for the longest time. There was the UAAP Finals and the World Series. I’m still reeling and somewhat broken over the Blue Eagles’ loss in the just concluded Finals with UST Growling Tigers. I’ve written about it (in www.ateneo.edu) as a means for catharsis for those feeling blue. I’m hardly over the emotional letdown of collegiate basketball when there’s going to be no Fall Classic for me. It’s dour as dour can be as my beloved New York Yankees have been eliminated in the Divisional Series by the Detroit Tigers. Aura and mystique have definitely left the building for the Yankees. Hmm. There must be a conspiracy here as my two favorite teams have been eliminated by Tigers. Is this a sign that I must ditch my Aeropostale for Le Tigre?

October is a time for me to partake in the rituals that my father and my uncles underwent as they were spoiled by players like Ed Ocampo, Felix Flores, and Steve Watson who carved out their deeds on the hardcourt. I had my share too back in my college days when Jun Reyes and Danny Francisco led Ateneo to back-to-back titles in the late 80’s and later on as an alumnus in the stands when Enrico Villanueva and company led the Blue Eagles back to the throne after 14 long years.

October is also my chance now that I’m grown and can afford to make my then-almost weekly pilgrimage to that cathedral in the Bronx called Yankee Stadium. I grew up reading of Pinstripe Pride in the pages of the Sporting News’ almanac. The Bronx Bombers and the Murderer’s Row I was mesmerized when reading those precious and large Life magazines that my grandparents saved for me (I have the original issues that dealt with the assassination of JFK and Apollo 11) where my vision of greatness was #7 Mickey Mantle who swung mightily and majestically even when he struck out.

One of my best Octobers ever was seeing Aaron Boone smack that dinger all the way into the left field of the Stadium to send the Yankees into the World Series (where they eventually lost to the Florida Marlins) in 2003. It was freezing that night but when my friends and I (along with thousands of others) spilled onto 161 Street in a late night street party. We were so pumped up that we nearly walked all the way back to Manhattan (we only got as far as two blocks then we realized that it was utter madness to do so and hopped on the 4 train instead).

People have asked me about my love for baseball which they perceive to be a boring sport. The action they say, is few and far in between. Baseball, they derisively say, induces more yawns than runs in a ballgame that can last anywhere from three hours to the wee hours of the morn. Perhaps aside from basketball and American football, no other sport is more meticulous, scientific, and calculating. Baseball is one of the last bastions of tradition not invaded by the pitfalls of self-expression and thug-a-nomics. And the only other sport just as celebrated in prose and song is basketball.

So the Blue Eagles and the Yankees have been defeated and I’m left to reminisce and wax sentimental about this time of the year that has given me plenty of memories. It’s hard being a sports fan when your team isn’t winning.

For me, these Octobers mean no more sembreaks (as I have been long since out of school) and the trick or treating is now done my kids. I no longer watch the Sopranos and now that I’m back home, Ray’s in Greenwich has been supplanted by Aria in Boracay as my fave in cuccina Italianna. Instead of the magical and somber weather right out of an Ernest Hemingway novel, we’ve got the alternating rain and havoc of typhoon season and the searing humidity of global warming gone bad. The one constant now in this month is the sporting events that have been both heart-stopping and heartbreaking.

Well at least December and Christmas are just around the corner. I could use a little Holiday cheer.