Sunday, September 09, 2007
The Wolf in Sheep's ClothingEver since Chino introduced me to it back in highschool, I have always made it a point to watch DLSU-AdMU games live. The epic rivalry between these two schools makes moments like Game seven of the NBA finals, game tied with one minute remaining seem like three-hour Biology lectures by a monotonous sounding, turtle-speed talking professor with thick glasses. It's a real shame Sports Illustrated or ESPN doesn't cover La Salle-Ateneo games. It is, and this is without bias, one of the greatest spectacles in sports entertainment.
What I like best about these games is the identities forged and typcasted. For La Salle fans on that day from 4PM to around 6:30PM, in the spirit of FRIENDLY competition, they forget their friends, forget their classmates, forget their own mothers, put simply, everyone wearing blue is evil. The same goes for Ateneans. Green is nothing short of vile. Green is toxic. Green is slime. Green is vomit.
A clear cut example of this was my trip to the Araneta Coliseum from Shang. I parked in Shang for my own convenience, to avoid the rush of 10,000 people celebrating their asses off and 10,000 people ready to beat said celebrating asses down. Anyway, on the train, tempers were flaring. It was as if every one involved was selectively color blind, seeing only green and blue. Both sides pretending that the tension didn't really exist, innocently minding their own businesses. Yet, both sides failing miserably to do so. That one smidgen of "Tsss..." at the corner of every person's eye, though 99.99999% unnoticeable and 99.9999999999% ignorable still creates an atmosphere worthy of an all-out MRT rumble. Sides were taken and the battle would ensue soon enough. "Would the MRT train," I thought, "be too soon though?" I kept wondering what would happen if I looked at one of the blue-shirted dudes and told him with a smug face and a low (almost whispering), stern voice, "Beat Ateneo, Animo La Salle!" The next day's papers would read: "Atenistang balimbing, nag-amok sa MRT. Patay!"
At the Araneta Center, people flooded from all sides which must have, from above, looked like thousands of ants droning towards a really big, blue and yellow sugar muffin. We had struggled for tickets, pitting our wits and wallets against fellow fans who were obviously applying the supply-demand curve learned from Eco101 FAR TOO SERIOUSLY (P1200 for an Upper Box A ticket? This is madness! This is Blasphemy! No, this is La Salle-Ateneo!)! We decided NOT to pay such a hefty amount. We are made of green, not gold. So, we lined up at the box office to purchase SRO tickets like the honest, little stingy bastards we are. Saving P1100 in exchange for sweaty armpits and aching feet is the more practical use of Economics.
Saving seats for a La Salle-Ateneo game is holding the fort against an army of angas dudes ("Wala naman atang nakaupo diyan sa tabi niyo eh. Swapang niyo naman, tangina."), hot chicks (Um, hi, excuse me. Hihi. Are those seats taken?"), and a hodge-podge shroud of different people all wanting a suitable station to watch the massacre about to unfold. Luckily, with our manly manliness, we were able to withstand any advances (not that any actually happened or anything...) made by roaming seat hunters.
Now, the thing about a La Salle-Ateneo game is that universal Physics function at its optimum level. The theory of relativity comes into play. 10 seconds can seem like an eternity when the game is on the line. And four quarters seem like a moment when the game is done and over with. Momentum between teams shifts faster than J.V. Casio as the two sides would find themselves cheering with utmost confidence at one second, and sulking with sheer disdain the next. One shot, one steal, one block, one freethrow, one second, is all it takes for the shift to occur. Linear time is followed religously as the final 0.01 seconds became the difference between glory and defeat.
Hands down. It
could have been the best basketball game I've ever seen my entire life. If only La Salle hadn't fallen short by two points, 89-87. It had everything. Emotion (I couldn't believe it. During half-time, security actually HAD TO restrain La Salle from entering the locker area since Ateneo was entering it first. They just CAN'T be on the same hallway together, can they?). Razzle-dazzle. Big leads. Exchanging of baskets. Clutch performances. All for the benefit of 20,000 lunatics, refusing to sit down for two and a half hours, screaming until their throats bled. I would've gone insane if they counted Maierhoffer's last shot*. I would've stood on my seat, looked back at the crowd and (dare I say it?) "pumped up the Animo." But, alas. Another loss. La Salle's 2nd in the season against "the" Ateneo. When the referees ruled Ateneo as the winners, my face was priceless. Jaw dropped, eyes beady, hands behind my head, feeling the truth of pain and frustration. I had completely forgotten that very moment where I presently go to school. I was heartbroken.
After the game, I was reduced to nothing but a walking conversation piece. On the way to the MRT, I counted around four different groups of people who, upon seeing me, spoke amongst themselves "Sino kaya nanalo sa Ateneo-La Salle? Tingnan mo siya o, Lasalista. Yung "L" niya kaya sa pisngi, ano ibig sabihin?" Frustration was at a high. Add to it the fact that my MRT card was rejected at the turnstyle and I had to line up, have it replaced and line up again at the turnstyle. Lines that were each almost as long as the Araneta box office line earlier in the day. Hay nako. Tomorrow, everyone at school will have this smug look except me. Oh well. I still have the faith and strength to say, "We'll get them next time."
Fyi, I still have the "L" written on my cheek. I haven't touched it. And it doesn't mean "Loser."
Hell no.
It means Love. It means Loyalty. It means La Salle.
*20+ seconds left, La Salle's up by one, 87-86. Off a JV Casio miss, Ateneo goes on the run. Escueta has the ball and weaves through traffic, driving it inside and drawing the D. He pops it out to A VERY WIDE open Chris Tiu who dials from long distance and connects with 17 seconds remaining.
JV handles the ball for La Salle. Dribbles right, passing through multiple screens. He drives left, lifts his dribble, fakes, spins, two seconds left, fires! MISSES! Rico Maierhoffer skies for the rebound and puts the ball back in the hole as time expires! Both sides are cheering. Both sides think they won. Everyone is confused. Who had won the game? The replay is reviewed. Apparently, Rico was still holding the ball in his hand, though already in the air, as time expired. The ball left his hand, clock was already at 0. The referree faces the crowd and waves off the basket. Game over.
the adventure ended at 7:42 PM
