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Nowhere to go but UP: musings of a
hopeful Maroon fan
…Our Maroons took the championship in
'86 in the same year our countrymen won back their freedom.
I don't know if it was something that
reflected the “mood” of the times. After the jubilation, the “ultimate
victory,” we seemingly grew complacent. We were the best but had stopped
getting better. '86 was UP's last championship. Every year since was a
disappointment, in varying degrees. We had built up leads in the first half
only to squander them in the dying minutes. We surged on early but could not
follow through 'til the end.
Why UP has been
winless in last three years
UP has been
crown-less in 27 years and winless in the last three.
Recently, I met
somebody from the Maroon's coaching staff and I got to learn why: Our team has
been playing hungry, literally.
I talked with the
players and also heard it from them firsthand. Asked what they needed the most,
they replied: “We need more food.”
They have been
going to practice on empty stomachs, playing competitive games without the
nourishment required of a student-athlete. They've been walking on foot from
one class to the next, one destination to another to save a coin or two for
their education. They have not been receiving their allowances, the measly sum
of anywhere from P5,000 to P10,000 -- a pittance considering what they have to
go through to play for the country's Premiere University while measuring up to
its stringent academic standards.
Recently,
electricity in their quarters was cut off because of “unpaid bills.”
The game has grown
sickeningly “commercialized,” I know. UP stands by its ideals, I know too. The
University rewards integrity and excellence, but if its meager budget does not
allow it to, should not the alumni step in?
Other Universities
invest shamelessly in their athletes. Should we not share a little if only to
afford our fellow Isko a modicum of self-respect?
One of our players
was offered what would translate in any parlance as a “bribe” -- allowances of
all sorts, housing, and the spot cash of P1 million -- just to play for another
school. He is 17, young, impressionable, and impoverished like most of his
teammates. Saying “yes” would have been the easier and more lucrative response.
True to his UP education, I was told, he gave an emphatic “No!”
But like I said,
basketball has grown shamelessly commercialized these days. The other school
went directly to our player's hometown to talk to his parents. If the kid won't
agree, perhaps, the parents will be a tad less uncompromising, they must have
thought.
Our Maroon, having
learned of what happened, borrowed money, practically begging for airfare so he
can convince his parents otherwise. Back in his hometown, he pleaded with them:
“I am staying in UP. I will get my UP diploma. UP is my team, my second family,
my community!”
Of course, every
parent would want the best for their children. The offer was tempting, sure,
but the kid's plea was also unbending. The father requested only one thing: one
win, one win out of several games in a season; not the championship, not the
MVP, just one win; not the sun and the stars, just a ray of hope that this
adolescent does not waste away his future on something so abstract as the “UP
way.”
Hearing the story
evoked a feeling similar to what I had felt when I first set foot in Guian,
Samar after the great storm. Right there and then, only one question loomed in
my head: What can I do to help?
There, amidst the
ruins, they play the game for the sheer joy of it, like any sport should be,
competitive or otherwise. Here, despite poverty and the allure of the “easy
buck,” one of ours needs help so he can continue pursuing a childhood dream.
If basketball can
help a nation cope with devastation, surely its people can give back to those
who live only to honor the game.
This kid, or
rather, this man of 17 years, has reminded me of what I have long learned --
though sometimes forget -- from UP. It is not just about winning as it is about
playing to deserve the victory.
Sa kanyang
mumunting paraan, sa tatag ng kanyang paninindigan, ipinaalala niya sa aking
hubad ang tagumpay kung hindi nagmula sa pagmamahal -- pagmamamahal sa
komunidad, at pagmamahal sa bayan.
In his small way,
on the strength of his conviction, he reminded me that victory is empty if it
does not come from love -- of community and people.
I had dinner with
him at my home. He finished all the leftover desserts in the fridge and I could
not be happier. At least, those would be a few more calories to burn during
practice, a little more energy to bring the team closer to the goal of “1 win.”
I did not promise
him what other schools offered. I had neither the resources nor the respect for
that grease. What I have are friends, fellow alumni, whom I know have the
generosity to justify the varsity's faith in its school. I committed to begin
passing the hat -- for decent meals, for Ikot fare, for lights in their
sleeping quarters. I promised I would be part of a community -- the UP
community -- that has never been known to abandon its own.
Right now, like his
father, all I want is 1 win. Where we are, where we have been, and how we have
defiantly bounced back from adversity, I know we have nowhere to go but UP.
But mostly because
our Maroons want nowhere else to be, deserve nowhere else to be, but UP.
Renan B. Dalisay
84-37652
B.A. Political Science
University of the Philippines-Diliman
--------------Renan B. Dalisay
84-37652
B.A. Political Science
University of the Philippines-Diliman
See also:
CSOs and State 15: Old Debate on Competition and Markets, June 15, 2012
CSOs and State 15: Old Debate on Competition and Markets, June 15, 2012
CSOs and State 16: The Integrity Initiative, December 17, 2012
CSOs and State 17: UP Pahinungod and Typhoon Victims in Mindanao, December 31, 2012
CSOs and State 17: UP Pahinungod and Typhoon Victims in Mindanao, December 31, 2012
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