Tuesday morning, I was asked during an interview on GMA NEWS TV's "News To Go" if, as a basketball commentator, I felt jealous over football's emergence.
My reply, "Not at all."
I'm happy that even on a bad day, football owns the spotlight. Happy that by advancing later in the afternoon, they can continue to spread the gospel of goals. Happy that they all made it to Mongolia in one piece. Happy that they soldiered on, or Azkaled on, by riding a roller-coaster from Manila to Ulan Bator. Truthfully, I'm happy because they showed up and clearly tried.
I believe in contexts; to juxtapose performance with circumstance. Some call it rationalization. I call it factoring in the human element. This is what one learns when you grow up cheering for, devote time and energy to teams which don't win all the time.
How many obstacles can a man take? How much cold can the lungs bear? How much of a phenomenon is one team supposed to sustain? How much perfection can men straddling through a gauntlet achieve? Even as Coach, how much latitude was Michael Weiss supposed to give?
Since I have too much respect for coaches, I try not to second-guess them. In any sport. I'm not about to start now. Since I have too much respect for circumstance, I won't judge the quality of the Azkals' hard work by the levity of their tweets.
Sometimes, great effort must coincide with a great performance. Other times, effort, no matter how great, can't manufacture the performance it deserves. The Azkals looked sluggish in Ulan Bator. They seemed out of it. Not where they were supposed to be on the turf. Not as sharp as many expected them to be. They often shifted from out-hustled to out-of-breath.
The Azkals appeared frozen, over 4,000 feet above sea level, stifled by the tundra of mixed experiences, long nights, misplaced luggage and the strange pressure caused by being a favored team. I'm not jingoistic.
I don't defend them just because they have Philippine colors emblazoned on their chests. But how can one overlook challenges piled on top of other challenges. Should they apologize for not dominating Mongolia?
Some of them did.
I won't apologize for commenting on the Azkals even if I don't have a PhD in corner kicks and perfect headers. If the Azkals don't have PhD's in earthquake management, airport hopping and sub-zero-temperature efficiency, neither should they.
My practical degree in athletes' behavior, however, earned from 20 years of watching, working with and covering competitors from various disciplines up-close, tells me this: they feel pain when they're hurt, they get anxious under stress, their teeth chatter when it snows, they gasp for air when pushed to the limit.
Just like most of us.
Thus, in the context of convoluted travel plans, frayed nerves and a most cumbersome way to play one match, sorry Azkals, I can't accept your apologies. But please, accept my thanks.
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