Success has gotten to the head of Manny Pacquiao.
The once humble, unassuming probinsiyano who captured the hearts and fancy of an entire nation with his iron-clad fists and lighting-fast hands is now just a pompous, bigheaded, self-absorbed superstar who cares more about money than legacy.
No, Pacquiao isn’t as self-centered as Floyd Mayweather nor is he as self-important as Oscar dela Hoya. Not yet at least. But he’s getting there.
Informed that dela Hoya plans to mimic the style of Juan Manuel Marquez in their upcoming “megafight” late this year, Pacquiao, in a stunning, surprising display of wit, braggadocio, and arrogance, replied mockingly, “Bakit, tinalo niya (Marquez) na ba ako?
Sure, Pacquaio has a point. Marquez hasn’t beaten him. Filipino boxing analysts, on the other hand, beg to differ.
The bigger point, however, is Pacquaio’s transformation from a modest, down-to-earth warrior to an air-headed, arrogant celebrity. Some five years ago, Pacquaio was too humble, too modest to badmouth those he had vanquished even if he obliterated most of them into oblivion. He was even too self-deprecating, too unassuming to acknowledge his own, palpable greatness. Now, Pacquaio is too caught up in his greatness, too absorbed in his rise to eminence that he found it convenient to (a) brag about his feared punching power and (b) mock Marquez all in one short interview.
Pacquiao is too caught up in his greatness that money has become the end-all and be-all of his career. The “I’ll-fight-whoever-whenever-wherever” demolition man who fought anyone, anytime, anywhere, is gone, replaced by a self-absorbed superstar who will fight only if the price if right. And too often, the right price is too steep that even the most worthy of challengers––Juan Manuel Marquez, most notably––will never get a crack at him. Evidently, Pacquaio’s over-inflated view of himself has him believing that he is, like Oscar dela Hoya and Floyd Mayweather, worth $15 million every time he enters the squared circle.
This, clearly, isn’t the Manny Pacquiao we have all come to know, love, and admire. That man, evidently, is no more. Manny Pacquiao is gone. Today, we only have Manny “Pacman” Pacquiao, a man drowning in a surfeit of fame and fortune.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
PARA KAY DON "DON'T-BLAME-TMAC" CARREON
Dahil makapunit brief at makapanindig balahibo ang stick-to-itiveness ng kaibigan naming si Don, naghanap din ako ng mga numbers to show that great players can greatly influence the outcome of a series. (To follow na lamang yung article ko.)
Michael Jordan, 1993 NBA Finals (against Phoenix)
41.0 PPG
8.5 RPG
6.3 APG
1.7 SPG
*Scored 55 points in pivotal Game 4 win.
**Suns had the best record in the NBA and held homecourt advantage.
Hakeem Olajuwon, 1995 NBA Finals (against Orlando)
32.8 PPG
11.5 RPG
5.5 APG
2.0 SPG
2.0 BPG
*Raised his scoring average in the finals by more than 5 points.
**Orlando had the best record in the NBA and were the heavy favorites.
Dywane Wade, 2006 NBA Finals (against Dallas)
34.7 PPG
7.8 RPG
3.8 APG
2.7 SPG
16+ FTA PER GAME
*Scored 42, 36, 43, and 36 points in last 4 games.
**Set NBA Finals record for free throw attempts in a series (97).
Hakeem Olajuwon, 1995 WC Finals (against San Antonio)
35.3 PPG
12.5 RPG
5.0 APG
4.2 BPG
*Game 6 statline: 39 points, 17 rebounds, 3 assists, 5 blocks, 2 steals
**Spurs had reigning MVP David Robinson; he was so badly outplayed that he said of Olajuwon: "Nobody solves Hakeem."
Michael Jordan, 1993 NBA Finals (against Phoenix)
41.0 PPG
8.5 RPG
6.3 APG
1.7 SPG
*Scored 55 points in pivotal Game 4 win.
**Suns had the best record in the NBA and held homecourt advantage.
Hakeem Olajuwon, 1995 NBA Finals (against Orlando)
32.8 PPG
11.5 RPG
5.5 APG
2.0 SPG
2.0 BPG
*Raised his scoring average in the finals by more than 5 points.
**Orlando had the best record in the NBA and were the heavy favorites.
Dywane Wade, 2006 NBA Finals (against Dallas)
34.7 PPG
7.8 RPG
3.8 APG
2.7 SPG
16+ FTA PER GAME
*Scored 42, 36, 43, and 36 points in last 4 games.
**Set NBA Finals record for free throw attempts in a series (97).
Hakeem Olajuwon, 1995 WC Finals (against San Antonio)
35.3 PPG
12.5 RPG
5.0 APG
4.2 BPG
*Game 6 statline: 39 points, 17 rebounds, 3 assists, 5 blocks, 2 steals
**Spurs had reigning MVP David Robinson; he was so badly outplayed that he said of Olajuwon: "Nobody solves Hakeem."
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
THE MANDATORY UST POST
(This article was inspired by the "Mighty Mighty Tigers" article of Paolo Mariano, one of the best writers of Solar Sports. Bawas na ambag ko sa inuman!)
No team in the UAAP has been a bigger tease than the UST Growling Tigers. With a loaded lineup that includes the most dominant big man this side of college basketball, a slew of long, hyper-athletic, sweet-shooting wingmen, and a steady, pass-first point guard, UST looked liked another dynasty in the making. That dynasty never happened. It didn't even come close to happening.
As it turned out, that stunning 2006 championship run was nothing more than a mirage, an aberration, a proverbial date with destiny.
It was a sweet date with destiny, all right. But that was two years ago. Now, destiny beckons only failure and heartbreak for these Tigers.
Most of UST's failures and heartaches over the past two years have been self-inflicted, a convuluted case of a talented team shooting itself not only in the foot, but in the head. Mostly, these wondrously talented Tigers just self-destructed in the most inappropriate of moments, like when they failed to box-out Maui Villanueva in that heartbreaking buzzer-beating loss to La Salle, or when Clark Bautista and Francis Allera both jacked-up forced, horribly ill-advised threes in the dying moments of their torrid near-comeback against UE.
With that collection of talent, UST should have been gunning for their third straight title this season instead of watching the Final Four on TV, but that's exactly what these Tigers will do. Disappointing it is, but surprising it isn't. These Tigers were good--extremely good, in fact--but they were just as vulnerable, just as flawed. These Tigers were long on talent, athleticism, and versatility, but they were ostensibly short on basketball IQ. In a way, these Tigers were all brawn and no brains, or in the paraphrased words of sportscaster extraordinaire Bill Velasco, they were short of something in-between the ears. In the end, this one vital flaw spelled the difference between two more championship runs and two seasons of heartbreak.
At the end of the day, one man has to take responsibility for UST's disheartening spiral from champions to also-rans. That man is UST coach Pido Jarencio. Fair game or not, coach Pido has to owe responsibility for the team's failures these past two seasons. He has to because he is the biggest reason why these Tigers have underachieved, and along the way, became poster boys for no-conscience-shooting, horrific decision-making, and fourth quarter slip-ups.
Coach Pido's inability to get up-to-speed with the Xs and Os of the game, for one, doomed these Tigers. He got away with it in 2006 because of his sheer motivational genius and a steady dose of Jojo Duncil in crucial stretches. Now, coach Pido's motivational tactics just weren't enough anymore, and he didn't have a Duncil to knock-in those cold-blooded jumpers down the stretch of games. This season, no team other than perennial bottom-feeders UP, NU, and Adamson was as poorly-coached as UST. Watch again tapes of UST and see if the Tigers consistently ran any discernable plays other than the pick-and-roll and the pick-and-pop. Moreover, coach Pido's mismanagement of games--slow in-game adjustments, crazy substitution patterns, and untimely or uncalled timeouts--cost UST at least four very winnable games.
But more than coach Pido's deficiencies on the Xs and Os of the game, his biggest shortcoming was his inability to teach the game to his players. At this level, coaching has as much to do with teaching the game as making adjustments and calling plays. Coach Pido arguably teached these Tigers how to play the game, but evidently, he didn't do it well enough. Most of these Tigers were fundamentally unsound (e.g., overhandling the ball, too early turning the corner on a pick, giving up the baseline on defense, poor entry passes to the post). Some didn't even know the difference between a good shot and a dreadfully horrific one.
Coach Pido had his time in 2006, but he has worn out his welcome at UST. His 3Ps, magical in '06, are now ancient memory, buried beneath a steady downpour of hearbreaking losses and an endless stream of "what-could-have-beens."
But while a bulk of the blame has to go to coach Pido, these Tigers should still be crucified for underachieving, for failing to play to their full potentials, for failing to live up to the overwhelming expectations sparked by that 2006 championship run. These Tigers deserve it as much as their coach does. Francis Allera deserves to be harangued for his dreadful shot selection; Clark Bautista for his shoot-first, shoot-second mentality; Dylan Ababou for his disappearing acts in fourth quarters; Jeric Fortuna for his dubious decision-making; Kazim Mirza, for his "shoot-when-I-see-the-rim mentality"; Mark Canlas for his "I'm-missing-in-action" season, and even Jervy Cruz for his "I'm-only-playing-hard-on-offense" approach.
These Tigers shot themselves in the head these past two seasons, and they, too, deserve the harshest of criticisms for doing so.
From now until the start of Season 72, the powers-at-be that run UST Basketball will surely leave no stone unturned in making sure that UST reestablishes itself as the preeminent power in the UAAP. And as they chart the course of UST basketball, they'll have two heartbreaking season's worth of lessons to chew on.
For the meantime, all the UST community can do is wait for another date with destiny. After that, may be, just may be, a dynasty can finally be reborn.
No team in the UAAP has been a bigger tease than the UST Growling Tigers. With a loaded lineup that includes the most dominant big man this side of college basketball, a slew of long, hyper-athletic, sweet-shooting wingmen, and a steady, pass-first point guard, UST looked liked another dynasty in the making. That dynasty never happened. It didn't even come close to happening.
As it turned out, that stunning 2006 championship run was nothing more than a mirage, an aberration, a proverbial date with destiny.
It was a sweet date with destiny, all right. But that was two years ago. Now, destiny beckons only failure and heartbreak for these Tigers.
Most of UST's failures and heartaches over the past two years have been self-inflicted, a convuluted case of a talented team shooting itself not only in the foot, but in the head. Mostly, these wondrously talented Tigers just self-destructed in the most inappropriate of moments, like when they failed to box-out Maui Villanueva in that heartbreaking buzzer-beating loss to La Salle, or when Clark Bautista and Francis Allera both jacked-up forced, horribly ill-advised threes in the dying moments of their torrid near-comeback against UE.
With that collection of talent, UST should have been gunning for their third straight title this season instead of watching the Final Four on TV, but that's exactly what these Tigers will do. Disappointing it is, but surprising it isn't. These Tigers were good--extremely good, in fact--but they were just as vulnerable, just as flawed. These Tigers were long on talent, athleticism, and versatility, but they were ostensibly short on basketball IQ. In a way, these Tigers were all brawn and no brains, or in the paraphrased words of sportscaster extraordinaire Bill Velasco, they were short of something in-between the ears. In the end, this one vital flaw spelled the difference between two more championship runs and two seasons of heartbreak.
At the end of the day, one man has to take responsibility for UST's disheartening spiral from champions to also-rans. That man is UST coach Pido Jarencio. Fair game or not, coach Pido has to owe responsibility for the team's failures these past two seasons. He has to because he is the biggest reason why these Tigers have underachieved, and along the way, became poster boys for no-conscience-shooting, horrific decision-making, and fourth quarter slip-ups.
Coach Pido's inability to get up-to-speed with the Xs and Os of the game, for one, doomed these Tigers. He got away with it in 2006 because of his sheer motivational genius and a steady dose of Jojo Duncil in crucial stretches. Now, coach Pido's motivational tactics just weren't enough anymore, and he didn't have a Duncil to knock-in those cold-blooded jumpers down the stretch of games. This season, no team other than perennial bottom-feeders UP, NU, and Adamson was as poorly-coached as UST. Watch again tapes of UST and see if the Tigers consistently ran any discernable plays other than the pick-and-roll and the pick-and-pop. Moreover, coach Pido's mismanagement of games--slow in-game adjustments, crazy substitution patterns, and untimely or uncalled timeouts--cost UST at least four very winnable games.
But more than coach Pido's deficiencies on the Xs and Os of the game, his biggest shortcoming was his inability to teach the game to his players. At this level, coaching has as much to do with teaching the game as making adjustments and calling plays. Coach Pido arguably teached these Tigers how to play the game, but evidently, he didn't do it well enough. Most of these Tigers were fundamentally unsound (e.g., overhandling the ball, too early turning the corner on a pick, giving up the baseline on defense, poor entry passes to the post). Some didn't even know the difference between a good shot and a dreadfully horrific one.
Coach Pido had his time in 2006, but he has worn out his welcome at UST. His 3Ps, magical in '06, are now ancient memory, buried beneath a steady downpour of hearbreaking losses and an endless stream of "what-could-have-beens."
But while a bulk of the blame has to go to coach Pido, these Tigers should still be crucified for underachieving, for failing to play to their full potentials, for failing to live up to the overwhelming expectations sparked by that 2006 championship run. These Tigers deserve it as much as their coach does. Francis Allera deserves to be harangued for his dreadful shot selection; Clark Bautista for his shoot-first, shoot-second mentality; Dylan Ababou for his disappearing acts in fourth quarters; Jeric Fortuna for his dubious decision-making; Kazim Mirza, for his "shoot-when-I-see-the-rim mentality"; Mark Canlas for his "I'm-missing-in-action" season, and even Jervy Cruz for his "I'm-only-playing-hard-on-offense" approach.
These Tigers shot themselves in the head these past two seasons, and they, too, deserve the harshest of criticisms for doing so.
From now until the start of Season 72, the powers-at-be that run UST Basketball will surely leave no stone unturned in making sure that UST reestablishes itself as the preeminent power in the UAAP. And as they chart the course of UST basketball, they'll have two heartbreaking season's worth of lessons to chew on.
For the meantime, all the UST community can do is wait for another date with destiny. After that, may be, just may be, a dynasty can finally be reborn.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
MONICO PUENTEVELLA IS AN ASS
Yes, you read that right, Monico Puentevella, the country’s chef de mission in the Beijing Olympics, is an ass.
His recent remarks on dZBB rationalizing the country’s embarrassing medal shutout in the Beijing Olympics were shallow, laughable, callous, insensitive, and above all, irresponsible. But then again, what would you expect from a politician masquerading as a sports leader?
The “honorable” congressman from Negros explained to dZBB anchor Mike Enriquez that despite the medal shutout, the Games had been a success in terms of assessing the standing of the Philippines in the hierarchy of the sporting world (which, as we all found out, is at rock-bottom). He argued that the Olympics had served its stead in evaluating where our athletes are relative to the world’s elite (and as we all found out, our athletes are several notches below the elite).
This assertion is laughable. Were the debacles in Sydney and Athens––not to mention the country’s near-pedestrian showing in the Doha Asian Games–– not enough to expose the sad reality that we are so far behind the rest of the world in sports? Did we really need a third straight Olympic shutout before we can finally say that we are bottom-feeders in the sporting world? Did we really need yet another multi-million diagnostic test to assess how our athletes would do against top-level competition? Right after the Philippines brought home nothing but a big, fat, embarrassing egg from Athens, any sane Filipino would have realized then that our athletes can’t hold a candle just yet against the world’s elite.
Puentevella then lamented the lack of funds for our sports associations. Yes, it’s a fair enough point, until you consider one disturbing fact: countries poorer than the Philippines managed to win medals. When you consider that war-torn Afghanistan, nuclear-happy North Korea, and little-known Togo all managed to win medals, Puentevalla’s grievance over the lack of funds suddenly seems a little shallow. Well, actually, it is shallow. While it is true that the country’s sports program is ostensibly lacking funds, this alone should not deter the development of elite-level Filipino athletes. Yes, money is scarce, but there is money to go around, nonetheless. The challenge is to make do with what’s available. The Afghans managed to do it. So did the North Koreans and the Togolese. Why can’t we do the same? (Just a point, though––boxing and taekwondo were funded by ridiculously rich private companies, right? How many medals did they win? None.)
Near the end of the interview, Mike Enriquez pressed Mr. Puentevella to explain why the Philippines couldn’t do what its Southeast Asian neighbors––Vietnam, Indonesia, Thailand, Singapore, and Malaysia––could (win medals). The great congressman from Negros then gave a response for the ages. His response was a magnum opus unlike no other, a tour-de-force so incomparable only the Phenomenal Puentevella could have thought of it. He said, in so many words, that these countries had used borderline Chinese athletes in their respective quests for Olympic glory.
Uhm…say again?
Okay, may be he was right. But last time I checked, five of our 15 Olympians were half-bred Filipino-Americans who don’t even speak Filipino: Miguel Molina, James Walsh, Christel Simms, Daniel Coakley, and Ryan Arabejo. So if our neighbors were using borderline Chinese athletes, then we were using quasi-Filipino athletes called Fil-Ams. That evens things out, doesn’t it?
Fortunately, Mike Enriquez decided to stop pressing Puentevella with more difficult questions. In doing so, the venerable newscaster saved the shameless congressman from Negros from further embarrassment. Who knows what insanely brazen remarks would have come out of Puentevella’s tactless, negligent mouth had Enriquez continued with the difficult questions.
It’s just a shame, though, because I was enjoying how Puentevella was making a bigger ass of himself on national radio. But then again, would you expect anything less?
His recent remarks on dZBB rationalizing the country’s embarrassing medal shutout in the Beijing Olympics were shallow, laughable, callous, insensitive, and above all, irresponsible. But then again, what would you expect from a politician masquerading as a sports leader?
The “honorable” congressman from Negros explained to dZBB anchor Mike Enriquez that despite the medal shutout, the Games had been a success in terms of assessing the standing of the Philippines in the hierarchy of the sporting world (which, as we all found out, is at rock-bottom). He argued that the Olympics had served its stead in evaluating where our athletes are relative to the world’s elite (and as we all found out, our athletes are several notches below the elite).
This assertion is laughable. Were the debacles in Sydney and Athens––not to mention the country’s near-pedestrian showing in the Doha Asian Games–– not enough to expose the sad reality that we are so far behind the rest of the world in sports? Did we really need a third straight Olympic shutout before we can finally say that we are bottom-feeders in the sporting world? Did we really need yet another multi-million diagnostic test to assess how our athletes would do against top-level competition? Right after the Philippines brought home nothing but a big, fat, embarrassing egg from Athens, any sane Filipino would have realized then that our athletes can’t hold a candle just yet against the world’s elite.
Puentevella then lamented the lack of funds for our sports associations. Yes, it’s a fair enough point, until you consider one disturbing fact: countries poorer than the Philippines managed to win medals. When you consider that war-torn Afghanistan, nuclear-happy North Korea, and little-known Togo all managed to win medals, Puentevalla’s grievance over the lack of funds suddenly seems a little shallow. Well, actually, it is shallow. While it is true that the country’s sports program is ostensibly lacking funds, this alone should not deter the development of elite-level Filipino athletes. Yes, money is scarce, but there is money to go around, nonetheless. The challenge is to make do with what’s available. The Afghans managed to do it. So did the North Koreans and the Togolese. Why can’t we do the same? (Just a point, though––boxing and taekwondo were funded by ridiculously rich private companies, right? How many medals did they win? None.)
Near the end of the interview, Mike Enriquez pressed Mr. Puentevella to explain why the Philippines couldn’t do what its Southeast Asian neighbors––Vietnam, Indonesia, Thailand, Singapore, and Malaysia––could (win medals). The great congressman from Negros then gave a response for the ages. His response was a magnum opus unlike no other, a tour-de-force so incomparable only the Phenomenal Puentevella could have thought of it. He said, in so many words, that these countries had used borderline Chinese athletes in their respective quests for Olympic glory.
Uhm…say again?
Okay, may be he was right. But last time I checked, five of our 15 Olympians were half-bred Filipino-Americans who don’t even speak Filipino: Miguel Molina, James Walsh, Christel Simms, Daniel Coakley, and Ryan Arabejo. So if our neighbors were using borderline Chinese athletes, then we were using quasi-Filipino athletes called Fil-Ams. That evens things out, doesn’t it?
Fortunately, Mike Enriquez decided to stop pressing Puentevella with more difficult questions. In doing so, the venerable newscaster saved the shameless congressman from Negros from further embarrassment. Who knows what insanely brazen remarks would have come out of Puentevella’s tactless, negligent mouth had Enriquez continued with the difficult questions.
It’s just a shame, though, because I was enjoying how Puentevella was making a bigger ass of himself on national radio. But then again, would you expect anything less?
Monday, August 18, 2008
EVEN A DEMIGOD NEEDS HELP
American swimmer Michael Phelps dominated in Beijing, rewrote Olympic history, and took his place as the transcendent swimmer of this generation; but he got some much-needed help.
Michael Phelps won 8 gold medals in Beijing, and he owes one of it to his teammate, Jason Lezak.
Jason Lezak’s name will likely be a mere footnote in Olympic swimming history, just another member of the powerhouse US swimming team that won a handful of gold medals in Beijing. That team, history will say, was anchored by a demigod named Michael Phelps, who, by winning 8 gold medals, made this Olympics his own personal showcase, his coronation as the world’s greatest swimmer. It is a title that he will presumably hold for a very long time, at least until another freak of nature comes along or until God––blasphemy aside––decides to don one of those hi-tech Speedos.
But history will be remiss, not to mention, unfair, if it fails to highlight what Jason Lezak has done in this Olympics. And all he did was allow his teammate, the aforementioned Phelps, to rewrite Olympic swimming history. Yes, Phelps was otherworldly in this Games, but it was Lezak who kept Phelps’s quest for the Great Eight alive.
Phelps began his historic quest to win 8 gold medals in a single Olympics by dominating the 400 m individual medley in record-shattering fashion. Then came the 4 × 100 meter freestyle relay, said to be the biggest hurdle in Phelps’s run at Olympic history. And 300 meters in, Phelps’s quest seemed destined to end even before it could pick up steam as the French team, anchored by the brash Alain Bernard, held a considerable lead going into the last 100 meters.
The Frenchman, Bernard, had predicted that his team would squash Phelps’s dream by winning this relay, and with 25 meters to go, it sure seemed that he was well on his way to backing up his bold prediction. Michael Phelps’s historic quest was all but over.
Then, Jason Lezak did something about it.
The 32-year-old American turned on his boosters and began a breathtaking, almost surreal, charge to the finish that had his teammates roaring and the crowd buzzing. In the end, it was Lezak who got to the finish line first, barely beating the brash Frenchman by less than a fraction of a second, by a hairline so to speak. With one spectacular surge, Lezak had turned an imminent defeat into an improbable victory, and in the process, he had played his part in rewriting Olympics history.
Lezak’s stunning comeback not only gave the Americans another gold medal in swimming; more importantly, it gave Michael Phelps the chance to continue his pursuit of history, a pursuit which was so close to ending.
Pause for a second and think about the immensity of Lezak’s mad dash to the finish. Without it, Michael Phelps would not have made history. Without it, Phelps would have merely tied Mark Spitz’s 36-year-old Olympic record instead of surpassing it. Without it, Phelps would have left Beijing with seven gold medals and a silver medal––a great haul for an athlete, yes, but Great Eight it is not.
Think, too, about what could have happened had Lezak not surged ahead in that fateful event. Maybe Phelps, dismayed by losing, would not have been as dominant, as machine-like as he was in the subsequent events. Maybe Phelps would not have gone on a record-breaking spree that saw him break five individual world records. Maybe Phelps would not have taken his place as the transcendent swimmer of this generation.
But everything else now is moot and academic. Michael Phelps has made history, and with that, he has taken his place as the transcendent swimmer of this generation. And Phelps knows that he owes a big part of it to Jason Lezak, the man who gave Phelps the chance to rewrite history.
That said, Jason Lezak will still be just a mere footnote to Michael Phelps’s record-shattering conquest, just another swimmer obscured by the giant shadow cast by the greatest swimmer of this generation.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
PINOY GOLD: PIPE DREAM OR POSSIBILITY?
Last Monday, “sports analyst” Bill Velasco posited a very interesting question in his “sports column” for the Philippine Star. He asked if the Philippines could realistically win a gold medal in the Olympics. Here, verbatim was his lead:
So, can we really win an Olympic gold medal?
Of course!
There is no doubt in my mind that a Filipino athlete will be able to win a gold medal in the Olympics. It may even happen this year (improbable, but not impossible).
Okay, realistically, the chances of a Filipino winning a gold medal in Beijing are slim to none, but it doesn’t mean that it won’t happen eventually. It may happen in 2012, in 2016, in 2032 or in 2040. It may happen by the time my younger sis––and she’s only seven!––has her own great grandchildren. (I really do believe it’ll happen before the polar caps melt completely.)
The way I see it, the main problem, really, is that we tend to put all our eggs in one basket (actually, two baskets). Translation: We pin our hopes too much on our boxers and taekwondo jins to churn out golden performances. Yes, the Velascos, Tañamors, and Geislers of the country have the talent and heart to deliver that elusive gold medal for the Philippines, but so do the Molinas (swimming), the Perezes (diving), and the Padillas (shooting)––they, too have the talent and heart to win the country’s first gold medal.
My point is simple, really. It’s high time we focus hard on other sports, not just so the Philippines can win its first Olympic gold medal, but also to make it a real threat in the quadrennial meet. There are 28 Olympic sports to date, of which, 21 are either individual sports or have individual categories. Is it really that much of a stretch or delusion to think that there is a gifted Filipino athlete in at least two of these 21 sporting disciplines?
Look, Jamaica discovered super sprinter Usain Bolt. India discovered sharpshooter Abhinav Bindra. Australia discovered swimmer extraordinaire Ian Thorpe. Heck, even the US lucked out when it discovered that demigod named Michael Phelps, who himself may have 8 gold medals around his neck by the time Beijing ’08 draws to a close on August 24. The way I see it, there are transcendent Filipino athletes just waiting to be discovered and trained. They may be boxers or jins, or they may very well be archers, shooters, fencers, gymnasts, sailors, divers, wrestlers, weightlifters, or judokas.
Just for the sake of argument, I’ve taken the liberty to list the sports that I’d really focus on if I was tasked to oversee the country's sports programs. I believe that it is in these sporting events that the Filipino athlete can truly excel in the world stage.
1. Gymnastics
2. Shooting
3. Aquatics (diving and synchronized swimming)
4. Archery
5. Badminton
6. Judo
7. Taekwondo
8. Boxing
9. Athletics (marathon)
(And no, basketball is not in the list. For Christ’s sake, I think it’s time we, as a nation, set aside that dream of a Philippine team competing in Olympic basketball.)
The most common question asked of us in the sportswriting profession in recent weeks is: can we really win an Olympic gold medal? Is it all just a pipe dream, Perhaps the question should be: do we really want to win an Olympic gold medal, or are there other issues standing in the way?Mr. Velasco then enlightened his readers with his scholarly take on what it’ll take to “produce an Olympic gold medal winner.” To his credit, he did make sense, and to a certain degree, he was right on several of his points. Unfortunately, he never did give a concrete answer to his main question. (To read the complete article, click this http://www.philstar.com/archives.php?aid=20080810159&type=2)
So, can we really win an Olympic gold medal?
Of course!
There is no doubt in my mind that a Filipino athlete will be able to win a gold medal in the Olympics. It may even happen this year (improbable, but not impossible).
Okay, realistically, the chances of a Filipino winning a gold medal in Beijing are slim to none, but it doesn’t mean that it won’t happen eventually. It may happen in 2012, in 2016, in 2032 or in 2040. It may happen by the time my younger sis––and she’s only seven!––has her own great grandchildren. (I really do believe it’ll happen before the polar caps melt completely.)
The way I see it, the main problem, really, is that we tend to put all our eggs in one basket (actually, two baskets). Translation: We pin our hopes too much on our boxers and taekwondo jins to churn out golden performances. Yes, the Velascos, Tañamors, and Geislers of the country have the talent and heart to deliver that elusive gold medal for the Philippines, but so do the Molinas (swimming), the Perezes (diving), and the Padillas (shooting)––they, too have the talent and heart to win the country’s first gold medal.
My point is simple, really. It’s high time we focus hard on other sports, not just so the Philippines can win its first Olympic gold medal, but also to make it a real threat in the quadrennial meet. There are 28 Olympic sports to date, of which, 21 are either individual sports or have individual categories. Is it really that much of a stretch or delusion to think that there is a gifted Filipino athlete in at least two of these 21 sporting disciplines?
Look, Jamaica discovered super sprinter Usain Bolt. India discovered sharpshooter Abhinav Bindra. Australia discovered swimmer extraordinaire Ian Thorpe. Heck, even the US lucked out when it discovered that demigod named Michael Phelps, who himself may have 8 gold medals around his neck by the time Beijing ’08 draws to a close on August 24. The way I see it, there are transcendent Filipino athletes just waiting to be discovered and trained. They may be boxers or jins, or they may very well be archers, shooters, fencers, gymnasts, sailors, divers, wrestlers, weightlifters, or judokas.
Just for the sake of argument, I’ve taken the liberty to list the sports that I’d really focus on if I was tasked to oversee the country's sports programs. I believe that it is in these sporting events that the Filipino athlete can truly excel in the world stage.
1. Gymnastics
2. Shooting
3. Aquatics (diving and synchronized swimming)
4. Archery
5. Badminton
6. Judo
7. Taekwondo
8. Boxing
9. Athletics (marathon)
(And no, basketball is not in the list. For Christ’s sake, I think it’s time we, as a nation, set aside that dream of a Philippine team competing in Olympic basketball.)
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
PAHIYAAN BLUES
Last Saturday, napahiya ako sa office thanks to one of our layout artists and resident hothead, Ronnie Din. ‘Di ko kasi naayos lahat ng illustrations na pinapaayos niya, tapos nung nalaman niya, eto lang naman yung sinabi niya: “Ano ba yan, hindi ganyan ang trabaho!” Then, nag-walk-out lang naman siya, leaving me to lick my wounds in full view of the other layout artists. Okay, at first glance, ako nga yung mali kasi hindi ko nga naman nagawa yung trabahong dapat kong gawin. Pero may context yun: Hindi ko naman trabaho yung pinagagawa sa ‘kin na hindi ko nagawa. Actually, trabaho nga niya yun e.
Book editor ako, hindi layout artist, hindi rin graphic artist. Wala sa job description ko na mag-ayos ng mga illustrations. Ang trabaho ko lang ay mag-edit, mag-proofread, at magsulat din kung kinakailangan. Oo, from time to time e ginagawa ko yung mga trabaho ng layout artist o ng graphic artist, pero yun ay kung kailangang-kailangan lang talaga. Actually, kaya ko nga hindi naayos yung mga illustrations ay dahil ginagawa ko yung trabaho na dapat ginagawa ng layout artist dahil wala ng ibang available layout artist that time and one day away na yung deadline nung mga project (yes, mga project, as in plural) na binigay sa akin. Tatlong teacher’s manual lang naman yung pinapatapos sa ‘kin in two days.
Nag-extra work ka na, ganon ka pa tatratuhin ng officemate mo. Naisip ko tuloy, parang nakasama pa yung sakripisyong ginawa ko dahil napahiya lang ako because of it. Lumabas pa tuloy sa iba kong katrabaho na inutil ako in terms of doing my job when in fact, I was going beyond the call of duty already. Besides, wala namang extra pay yung ginawa ko e, at hindi rin naman ako mako-consider for promotion for doing something na hindi ko naman talaga trabaho. Naghirap ka na sa wala, tinarantado ka pa.
Hay… Ang buhay nga naman.
Book editor ako, hindi layout artist, hindi rin graphic artist. Wala sa job description ko na mag-ayos ng mga illustrations. Ang trabaho ko lang ay mag-edit, mag-proofread, at magsulat din kung kinakailangan. Oo, from time to time e ginagawa ko yung mga trabaho ng layout artist o ng graphic artist, pero yun ay kung kailangang-kailangan lang talaga. Actually, kaya ko nga hindi naayos yung mga illustrations ay dahil ginagawa ko yung trabaho na dapat ginagawa ng layout artist dahil wala ng ibang available layout artist that time and one day away na yung deadline nung mga project (yes, mga project, as in plural) na binigay sa akin. Tatlong teacher’s manual lang naman yung pinapatapos sa ‘kin in two days.
Nag-extra work ka na, ganon ka pa tatratuhin ng officemate mo. Naisip ko tuloy, parang nakasama pa yung sakripisyong ginawa ko dahil napahiya lang ako because of it. Lumabas pa tuloy sa iba kong katrabaho na inutil ako in terms of doing my job when in fact, I was going beyond the call of duty already. Besides, wala namang extra pay yung ginawa ko e, at hindi rin naman ako mako-consider for promotion for doing something na hindi ko naman talaga trabaho. Naghirap ka na sa wala, tinarantado ka pa.
Hay… Ang buhay nga naman.
