A really casual question that was texted at me by Noel Zarate that one
November day, in the middle of that overloaded month where sports was so on
demand but the supply was a little bit short. My primary concern was that no
spots will be left voided on all the leagues that I was involved that time.
That’s why text messages that I receive were pretty casual that season:
“Pre, UCBL sa Monday ah…”
“Sir, Spikers’ Turf po sa Thursday. First game po kayo.”
“Bro, UAAP srs on Wednesday. Big game yun. Good luck!”
It didn’t matter to me anymore if I was calling a no-bearing game or a
game that will put either UP or La Salle at the final four with a victory. The
fans know if the stakes are high, so I’ll just leave it up to them. While all
of those are happening, I also send text messages like this:
“Can you do PSL on Saturday, for the first two games?”
“I can’t do Rebisco on Thursday pare. Ikaw na tumira nun.”
“Ervin, do Game 1. Levi will do Games 2 and 3.”
In a crazy month where not only I have been assigned to do games, but
also I have been assigning people to do games, there is no way a feeling of
anxiety in doing games will dawn upon me. Ang dami ko na ngang iniisip at
ginagawa e. But this one CASUAL text by my mentor changed the complexity of my
state of being that time.
“Kaya mo na mag-FIBA?”
It brought me back to 2012 where I did my very first TV broadcast. Say
yes now… figure it out later.
“Kayang kaya. What game?”
“Iran.”
“The December 3 game. Got it.”
And World War Eight began in my stomach.
---
I was working for Smart back in 2013 when the FIBA Asia Championship
was held here in the country. Took a leave of absence for the duration of the
tournament several months prior to the games in hope of covering the entire
tournament. I was an idiot back then, so no coverage for me that time. My
officemates got accreditation IDs for the games and I thought I will get mine
too, but apparently there was none. So there was no other recourse but to watch
the games on TV and cover it from the comforts of my home. But home was too comfortable.
So the battle between writing about the games and laying down to watch it like
an ordinary fan was pretty much intense, with the latter winning the battle.
Going fan mode, I went early to SM San Lazaro to buy a ticket for the
game. I have waited for this the entire year so I think I needed to see even at
least one game. As soon as the mall opened, I went directly to the cinemas to
buy a ticket. Surprise, surprise! The line was long. What on earth??? Where did
these people come from??? Did they camp inside the mall for this??? Pwede ba
yun??? I never bothered to ask why and just chose to concentrate on getting a
ticket. After 30 minutes, the quarterfinals game was sold out. An hour later,
the semifinals game was gone too. Fifteen minutes later, I got my ticket. The
finals game. I wonder who will I be watching?
Three days later, Gilas made it to the finals against Iran. Full blown
fan mode, I wore a white shirt underneath and a Gilas jersey on top of it. I
was situated on the upper box of the arena, screaming on the top of my lungs,
and joining the wave whenever there is one. Gilas lost the game, but it was
enough to give them a spot in the World Cup, and to give this die-hard fan an
experience he has been looking forward to the entire year. I am sure I said to
myself that I want to be a part of it if the FIBA games happen again in the
country. In any capacity, I wanted to show my support for the national team.
That is how I want to serve the country.
---
I have detailed on previous posts the story on how I got myself
involved with the people at SBP who organize the FIBA games here. I got my
first PURE front row seat experience back in the Japan home game in February,
then the out-of-the-mind experience in the Australia game, and was also inside
the venue during the Qatar closed-door game. I was satisfied of being a big
epal during the games and doing little errands for the other guys who are
actually working there. Hell that is a court access! High fives and good luck
shouts to the players was an ordinary occurrence… the 2013 me would pass out
once he knew he could do that.
And that thought somehow made the World War Eight in my stomach a tad
worse. The feeling of excitement, fear, fulfillment, nervousness, exhilaration,
anxiety, yabang, stage fright…
“Development: baka makauwi ako ng December 3. Ginagawan ng ABL ng
paraan para makauwi ako…”
Oh good! Damn. That stopped the war inside my tummy.
But this was a good (more or less) 10 days before the game, and a lot
of things are still bound to happen. There is still the possibility that Noel
might not be able to come home for the game and I still get to call it. World
War Nine might start inside my tummy again as the day approaches.
This was a good opportunity to me to get myself together and be ready
for the game… it doesn’t matter if I was the sure guy who will call the game
between Gilas and Iran. Others might hate that uncertainty. To me, it was a
blessing and a chance for me to prepare.
To help me prepare emotionally and mentally, I used the facts and the
uncertainties of the situation in order for me to calm down (because that is
apparently my only problem). I called my scheduled games accordingly, like in a
“I will call another game tomorrow so I have to preserve and prepare myself”
mode. I met with Noel and arranged schedules together because he’s also somehow
destroying my assignments. On the side, we met some of the Batch 1 graduates of
the Newbies Broadcasting Academy (more on that on the next entry), that will
set foot on covering the NCRAA. Naturally, stories will be told and shared by
us, the experienced (I actually cannot believe I am included in the “experienced”),
to the newbies. Since they were there, we also shared to them the problem of
high demand-low supply that we were experiencing that month. And stories like “there
are actually two people who SBP goes to when there is a FIBA game here in the
Philippines to do court announcing duties, and one of them is dead… that is
Rolly Manlapaz (God bless his soul). The other one is me, and I am assigned to
broadcast the ABL games in China and we have this problem and I don’t really
know if I can get home to do the Iran game, but there is Jay getting ready on
stand-by. After that game, at least dalawa na ulit ang kaya mag-FIBA.”
If my mentor was so convinced that I can do it, then there is no way in
hell I will not be convinced that I can do it. There is so much calm in my gut
now, that no more World War is ever going to happen there. Now to keep me
grounded and not to get ahead of myself, I made a perfect response to people
who are asking me during that period if I will do the FIBA game…
“Depende, baka dumating si Noel.”
Even on the day itself. My insides are feeling great, that I was able
to hold a lecture to my class that morning before the game. Arrived at MOA
Arena really early to study the names of the Iranians. Even when Rick Olivares
asks me “Are you going to do the game later?”, I just said “Maaga pa, baka
dumating si Noel.” Mr. Bernie Atienza of the SBP was the only pasaway one who
said “hindi na darating yun… pinaghanap ko na ng champoy sa China yun.” and
lead us to the power nap party that afternoon in his office in the MOA Arena.
It was five in the afternoon, and I am still entertaining the fact that Noel
might come, but I was damn ready. I used a separate table in the table official’s
row because apparently it doesn’t fit us all and I was the lucky one who ran
out of space. So I looked like an office clerk handing out notary publics to
people while I was preparing for the game.
6:30 P.M.: Noel sent me a bilin that I totally forgot to execute.
Either way, that must be the confirmation that he will not make it.
This shit is mine!
7:20 P.M.: This…
But what happened the night before was the one that sealed the deal for
my state of being that time. The state of calmness and readiness despite the
uncertainty and the stakes and the class of this game, I got that the night
before. But let’s reserve that for another story.
The journey continues…
---
Follow the writer on Twitter and Instagram: @sportscastengr
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