A Calendar of Tales: November Tale

Neil Gaiman asked:  "What would you burn in November, if you could?'
I replied: "The idea of not telling someone how you feel about them."

Dear Carol,

You were asking me the other day why I was looking at you in a weird way. Well, here's my answer: You looked beautiful. The way you tucked those loose strands of hair behind your ear. The way you almost sneezed but it didn't materialize and it left you irritated. The way you read a paragraph of The Odyssey Telemachos!). Everything. Everything you do looks right. Everything you wear is a perfect fit. Everything about you is beautiful. I love you, Carol. I've been in love with you since freshman year. I just didn't know the right words to say and I didn't want our friendship to get weird but I'm saying it now because, well, I want to. I'm ready now. I want us to watch movies and have lunch and talk about the movies we watched and the food that we ate. We'll look at other people and make up their conversations. We'll sit at that wooden bench at the parking lot after school and I'll put my arm around you when it gets too cold. I love you, Carol. I really do. I'm not weird or obsessed or a jerk or anything you don't like in a guy. I'm not perfect either. I'm just normal Jeffrey. Jeff. I'm the guy you punch in the arm to relieve some stress. The guy whose notebook's last page you filled with unicorns and stars. The guy who said nothing when you talked endlessly about Jake. The guy who just smiled when you said Jake could be the one. The guy who told you to find the guts to tell Jake that you feel the same way about him. Jeff, the guy who's just here when you need him. I'll always be here when you need me, Carol. Always. Anyway, hope we can talk soon. I mean, we talk everyday but you know, hope we can talk about, you know, stuff. :)

Take care,

Jeff

"Jeffrey, time to eat! Your dinner's getting cold!"

Jeff took one last look at his letter then folded it two times. He cut a piece of tape from his green tape dispenser and placed it neatly on the center of the paper. He took a deep breath then removed the tape and carefully read what he had written. With sad eyes, he looked out the window and noticed that the Sun had disappeared. He crumpled his letter and threw it in his trash bin. Outside, it started to rain, just a drizzle but the wind was bringing in drops of water on his desk. With a sigh, Jeffrey got up, closed the window and headed for the door to eat his dinner. His trash bin was almost full.

Pacquiao-Marquez IV

And that's that.

With one crushing blow, Manny Pacquiao was out cold. With one crushing blow, the people of the Philippines were out cold, as well. In a sport where crushing blows sell fights and end fights, it only took one to write history. It had all the makings of a classic. Two of the best pound-for-pound fighters slugging it out, their respective countries on their backs. Pacquiao-Marquez 4 was supposed to be the end. It ended in spectacular fashion but it also started another round of the blame game.  

Blame Manny. Blame Jinkee. Blame Freddie. Blame Buboy. Blame Ariza. Blame Chavit. Blame his entourage. Blame his new beliefs. Blame his extra-curricular activities. Blame Philippine politics. Blame Floyd. Heck, let's blame Reggie Miller, Charles Barkley and the rest of the NBA. Maybe we should blame one or all of them. Maybe we shouldn't. But if I had to put the blame on something, it would be Juan Manuel Marquez's right fist. His right fist that seemed to have a vendetta, a score to settle with Pacquiao. His right fist that carried 8 years full of anger, frustration and pain. His last-second punch was so strong, it felt like we were all face down on the canvas. Maybe we were and to some extent, maybe we still are.

Through 5 rounds, I had Pacquiao ahead by a close 48-45. Each fighter had been knocked down, Pacquiao in the 3rd round and Marquez in the 5th. The Mexican already had, what it seemed like, a broken nose, courtesy of the Sarangani province Representative. With seconds left, I had Pacquiao winning the 6th round. Seconds later, it was over. Juan Manuel Marquez finally got the monkey off his back. While he is now feeling the effects of Manny Pacquiao's punches, the pain is a far second to the jubilation and relief of finally and officially beating the man. For six rounds, we were witnesses to what boxing should be. If Marquez had failed to connect on that last punch, we would probably be witnesses to one of the greatest fights ever. For the warrior from Mexico City, it probably already is. 

And all it took was one crushing blow.

Reignite the Blaze

Another year, another losing season and another final four non-appearance for the College of St. Benilde Blazers. The worst part, we're getting used to it.

I was there when we won our first and only men's basketball championship. I remember sitting up in the stands, my heart pounding inside my chest. With every Sunday Salvacion basket, every Al Magpayo rebound and every Titus Mendoza hustle play, one side of Rizal Memorial stadium would erupt in utter delight. One side. All Benildeans. I remember the goosebumps on my arms as I sang the Alma Mater song. For one night, the other side of Taft Avenue was in euphoria. The Blazers appeared in the final four the next two seasons, reaching the finals in 2002 only to be defeated by San Sebastian. Since then, wins have been sporadic. Winning seasons and final four appearances, same as those goosebumps, have been non-existent. 

I admit, I haven't watched a single live game ever since. But I catch Blazer games on AKTV whenever I can. I check out team standings and box scores online. I may not be the perfect supporter but I try my best. And I'm proud of that fact. What I can't stand is seeing rows and rows of empty seats wherever my beloved Blazers play. Maybe it's difficult to watch the games live, especially when the matches are held during school and office hours but if the fans from the other team can find ways to watch, maybe we should, as well. I should be there to shout at every call the referees miss. I should be there to heckle the opposing team's free throw attempts. I should be there to to scream my lungs out at every good play my Blazers make. I should be there. We all should be there. Everyone. 

I won't pretend to know the ins and outs of college basketball. Heck, I won't even pretend to know the ins and outs of writing (forgive the typos, if any). What I do know is that for a college sports team to be successful, it needs support. From the school officials to the students to the graduates to the groundskeepers, every little thing we contribute goes a long way.  We are all Benildeans. It also wouldn't hurt if we got a couple of blue chip players in our sights for future seasons. With only a couple of players graduating from this year's squad, adding two or three marquee ballers to our young nucleus could yield positive results. I suggest the CSB team officials scout early and often for prospects that can help the cause and once they're in the fold, take care of them and support them 100%. And stop letting DLSU get our LSGH boys (Ahem... Thomas Torres... Ahem!). Hehehe.  

We need more scoring. We need more defense. More importantly, we need more fans. And maybe, just maybe, those goosebumps would return.

Animo La Salle. Animo Benilde.

The Kid in the Bank

I was in the bank this morning. While waiting for my turn, I noticed a boy who was around 3 or 4 years old. He was just walking around, not a care in the world, while his mom was conducting business with one of the tellers. What got my attention was his innocence, how he just moved his hands while strolling around with really no clear direction. He then saw me looking at him and he momentarily stopped and stared back, his eyes full of questions yet full of answers, as well. He turned his back and just climbed onto one of the chairs, continuing his rule over his imaginary kingdom. He never said a word. He kept to his own, unmindful of the eyes on him. In that moment, he was happy.

Random Thoughts I - Memories

A memory is a powerful thing. It has the ability to take you back and the ability to move you forward. It creates smiles, tears and toe-curling cringes from images that forever remain in our minds, no matter what, as well as in our hearts, luckily.

There are the bad ones that we revisit, not to be hurt nor to be embarrassed again but to be healed and to accept the present. it's ironic how sometimes, the things that crushed our spirits would eventually change into something that lifts, how the bad turns to good and how our weakest moments make us stronger.

On the flipside, it's the happy memories that make us cry, more often than not. We know how things will never be as good and realize how little we have right now. We try to emulate, to redo all that was done but sadly, it will never be the same.

All we can do is accept and adapt. Accept that things aren't the way they used to be and adapt to what we have and who we are. Memories remind us of days gone by but more importantly, of who we used to be.

Brandon Roy Retires

I didn't expect to wake up to this. Brandon Roy, the Portland Trail Blazers' 3-time all-star and one-time franchise player was set to retire from professional basketball. After undergoing a physical doctors told Roy that his playing years were over and that if he continued to play, he could face the possibility of not walking at all in the future. No more cartilage, no more playing. The career of the only player I've followed over the past few years is over.

We always believed that our heroes were indestructible, that they would last forever and never leave us. During the lockout, I had hoped that Brandon's knees would get better with the extended off-season. After Nate McMillan and Larry Miller's statements a few days ago regarding Roy's state of mind and him being part of Portland's plans for the season, my feeling of hope turned into excitement. I printed out the Blazers' 66-game schedule and taped it on the wall of my office. I installed apps for my phone that would help me keep track of news, scores and stats throughout the season. Brandon was ready and so was I.

What I was not prepared for was today's news. The apps I installed did what they were supposed to do, each one of them confirming the story of the day, each one taking the wind out of me. I was shocked. I was sad. On this cold December day, my basketball hero learns that his knees won't allow him to play another NBA game. Just like that.

I can't say that I fully understand everything in the NBA, much less basketball in general. CBAs, BIRs, MLEs, etc. These are just letters to me. For me, being a fan is more than just knowing the numbers and statistics and contracts. It's the feeling of belonging, rising and falling with your team and your favorite players. It was Brandon Roy who pulled me back to watching the game more closely. He made me a fan again of a sport dominated by egos and endorsements. He was a joy to watch, a warrior on the court and a gentleman off the court. The city of Portland loved him and he loved them back. He played with his heart on his sleeve and never let his injuries get in the way of his game. It's sad to think that he won't win a championship, accept an MVP award and won't get to represent the USA in the Olympics. As part of the coaching staff or management maybe but as a player, no. But like what he showed during games 3 and 4 of the 2011 playoffs, there's always a new chapter, a new beginning. He can now focus on the more important things in his life, his family and his health.

Before I end this, I'd like to share my favorite Brandon Roy moment: Game 4 against Dallas in the 2011 NBA Playoffs. Living outside the United States, NBA games are always broadcast in the morning. Game 4 was earlier than usual and I had to wake up at 5:30 to watch the game scheduled at 6. Unfortunately, the NBA provider wasn't scheduled to air the Portland-Dallas game on TV so I went to my office so I could watch it on-line. What I witnessed was one of the most inspiring things I had ever seen. I knew he had spoken about his diminished role in the team a few days before. I knew he responded with 16 points off the bench in the Game 3 win. But what I didn't expect was that I'd be watching what greatness was all about. In just one whole quarter. It was the Brandon Roy show. After he hit that three with Marion fouling him, I could already feel my hands shaking. Then moments later, at the final buzzer, I had tears in my eyes. It was the only time a sporting event could bring me, a then-29 year old man, to tears. The fact that the man, who had no more cartilage in his knee, could orchestrate one of the biggest comebacks in sports history, was just too much.

Thank you, Brandon. For the amazing buzzer beaters, the killer crossovers, the monster dunks and most of all, your selflessness. Good luck and God speed.

Pacquiao-Marquez III

Manny Pacquiao, the Fighting Pride of the Philippines, was supposed to knock out Juan Manuel Marquez at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas. He was supposed to deliver his vaunted left hook right at Marquez's jaw. With one minute and thirty seconds left. In the 6th round. He was supposed to get lifted off his feet by Buboy Fernandez and his horde of followers, his fists in the air in a show of jubilation. He would then be interviewed by Mario Lopez, asked about his next fight, his much-awaited showdown with Floyd Mayweather. Pacquiao would flash his winning smile and answer that it would be up to his promoters to decide then segue to promote his after-fight concert at the Mandalay Bay. Here in Manila, the people would be buzzing about the People's Champ's great victory, each one saying the fight was worth the price of the admission ticket and already warning Mr. Mayweather that he would be next. Pacquiao was supposed to put the doubts of his last two fights to Marquez to rest, proving once and for all that he was the better fighter.

But unlike the script we already played out in our heads, things happened oh so differently.

The thirty-eight year old Marquez defied father time and put on one of the best displays of boxing over the last few years, brilliantly keeping Pacquiao at bay while unloading vicious punches to the Filipino's head. Pacquiao, for his part, looked tentative, only showing sporadic signs of life. He would connect from time to time but we never saw the flurry of punches he was famous for nor his legendary speed and power. The Pac-Man we saw was hesitant, cautious of Marquez's counterpunches. For the Filipino boxing fans, they knew Manny would be lucky if the match had been judged a draw but after twelve rounds it was clear that this was supposed to be the Mexican Warrior's day, his time for revenge and his chance at redemption.

But unlike the fairy tale ending Marquez knew he deserved, again things happened oh so differently.

Robert Hoyle had it a draw 114-114. Dave Moretti had 115-113 and Glenn Trowbridge had it 116-112 for the winner and STILL WBO Welterweight Champion, Manny Pacquiao. After hearing the decision, Marquez and his posse left the ring in haste and possibly, in disgust. Yes, Pacquiao showed flashes of brilliance, Yes, Pacquiao threw more punches. Yes, Pacquiao is a Filipino and so am I. I believe that Pacquiao won the first two fights but not this one. After the final bell, it was either a draw or a Marquez victory for me. Not to take anything away from Manny but in the end, it was supposed to be for the fighter who dictated the pace and connected more clearly.

But unlike how a lot of boxing fans, myself included, saw how this fight would end, again things happened oh so differently.

And that is why this victory is a bitter pill to swallow.

La Salle Greenhills 85 San Beda 82

I attended my high school's championship game yesterday at the Araneta Coliseum (it still feels funny calling it the Smart Araneta Coliseum, sorry). My La Salle Green Hills Greenies was up against the San Beda Red Cubs. LSGH, the College of St. Benilde's junior team in the NCAA rode its momentum from their last game against the Letran Squires and held San Beda at bay for most of the first quarter. The second quarter was a different story as the Red Cubs showed why they had been unbeaten the whole season as they slowly chopped the deficit with their composure and high-octane offense, eventually ending the half down just by three, 41-38, with a trey just before the buzzer sounded.

LSGH player introductions. Unsteady photo by me.

After the break, San Beda continued its relentless pressure on offense, complete with stunning no-look passes and inspired play. The Greenies seemed to be stuck on neutral as the Red Cubs capitalized on missed shots and poor rebounding from La Salle. After three, it was LSGH 63, San Beda 62. It was a heart-stopping last period as both clubs stepped up their performances with the Red Cubs eventually taking the lead with only a few minutes to go. That's when back-up center Andre Paras, son of retired cager Benjie, took over. The younger Paras scored 11 of his 13 points in the pivotal fourth as LSGH won back the lead. The Greenies had several chances to ice the game but were missing free throws down the stretch. In the end, they held on to win the thriller, 85-82 ending San Beda's unbeaten run at 18 games. Forward Jon Villaruz led La Salle with 22 points. Thomas Torres nearly dished out a triple-double performance with 14 points, 10 rebounds and 7 dimes. San Beda still enjoys a twice-to-beat advantage heading into the next match scheduled for next week.

While LSGH won, it was still far from a perfect game. They allowed San Beda to get fast break points as the Red Cubs easily broke the Greenies' press. They were also outrebounded by their opponents 51-39. And most importantly, they only made 23 of 40 shots from the free throw line. Hopefully, these problems will be addressed before the next game.

Animo La Salle.