THE good thing about us is we do not easily surrender. We are the most stubborn race on Earth. That is why we will harness all resources to win that elusive ticket to the 2016 Rio basketball Olympics.
The bad thing about us is we know we would be aiming for it against all odds—read: all odds—and we clearly could not bull sheet achieve it and yet, we would still plunge head-on, as though the suicidal act might miraculously make the impossible happen. Don Quixote lives.
Thus, we made not just one but two Americans as naturalized Filipinos, each one of them dutifully deployed for specific duties for targeted missions.
Six-foot-eleven Marcus Douthit carried us in the 2013 Fiba Asia Cup in the now-celebrated “11 days of August,” which produced for us a much-coveted slot to the 2014 Fiba Worlds.
Seven-foot-one Andray Blatche took over in Spain’s Fiba Worlds, where, like Douthit in Manila, he marshaled Asia’s “terrible lilliputians” in amazing games that were virtually all cliffhangers, close games going to taller foes in the end mainly on unfortunate breaks for us.
But just as Blatche was all set to play for Gilas anew in the 2014 Incheon Asiad, he got “technicaled,” forcing Gilas to reactivate Douthit, who was, by then, ailing with a leg injury. Douthit played injured.
A much sought-after Asiad gold to finally match our last golden win in the quadrennial Games in 1954 turned garbage.
Enter Blatche. Although he was overweight and, therefore, out of shape, he almost shouldered Gilas to victory in the Fiba Olympic qualifiers in Changsha.
We got hitched—as we had expected, almost. China had the usual homegrown tricks to augment its ceiling-laden talent in crushing our hopes before a boisterous hometown folk, who came not just to cheer their own but also geared for skull-bashing in case the championship game got out of hand.
Now we are down to our last card: the ultimate Olympic qualifier in July. Tough. Of the 18 hopefuls, only three will advance to Rio; they are the Nos. 1 from three groups comprised of six teams each.
A naturalized Filipino that Blatche is, he will banner Gilas again and for that, he will be paid a fortune—as usual. Not our own brown brothers, though. They play for country. That’s all.
If we lose, nature shall have merely taken its course.
A win would be miracle at work.
THAT’S IT. Danny Dalena and Dante Fernandez, who I both love dearly, were to go under the knife this week. Let us pray for the success of their surgeries, please?… I was at the plush Baguio Country Club (BCC) in the City of Pines when President Aquino came visiting on New Year’s Day. It brought back a flood of memories.
In 2010 a month or so before he would be voted President, our paths crossed at the same members-only club’s fabled veranda. My family requested for a photo-op—and he readily obliged, with a smile. Within minutes after the historic moment was snapped, Mr. Aquino’s photographer generously gave us copies. One hangs in Sol Juvida’s play/TV room and the other at the sala of Ayapot Sadiwa’s home in SSS Village, Marikina City. In the picture were Ricky and Ayapot with their kids Mayasoh and Ikap, Sol J and me flanking Mr. Aquino standing in the middle.
Almost six years later, a waitress at BCC said, the morning after President Aquino had Japanese dinner at his favorite Hamada of BCC: “Before, we could pose with Mr. Aquino for instant photos. Selfies even. Not anymore. But we understand, of course. Security is paramount for our President.” Attagirl…. If reports were true, President Aquino drove a borrowed sportscar from Manila to Baguio on December 31. The muscled machine has been a passion of his since his teenage days. But coming back to Manila, he boarded his presidential ride: a chopper. By June this year, he can very well resume his love for speed on the fast lane—after he shall have stepped down from the presidency. Happy New Year!