The Game
*(been meaning to post this one, never found the time)
IT was a sight I have never seen, a sight, I long to see again.
Twenty thousand football fans (30,000 by some estimates) screaming till they can
scream no more.
Chanting.
Cheering.
Shouting.
As one.
For that 90 minutes, nobody cared about Garci, nobody cared about the stupid squabbles up north.
We were winning, 4-2, against Cambodia.
Before the Southeast Asian Games (Seag), the most I’ve seen at a football match was two hundred. During the Seag, there were probably hundreds crammed at the gates, stretching their necks to see the action. People climbed trees, fire trucks and the gates itself to see action. That’s how jampacked the stadium was that day, Nov. 25, 2004.
It was a day, I stopped becoming a sportswriter.
Getting assigned to cover football in the Seag was a dream come true. It was akin to a politician, getting the key to the national bank, or Michael Jackson, getting the key to the Fountain of Youth.
During the first match of the Philippines -- named the Askals owing to the scraps it gets as support from the government – I had difficulty taking down notes.
During that Cambodia game, I couldn’t. My hands were shaking before the game started and taking down notes was impossible. Still, I can still recall every minute of that game – except for the times that I was screaming or cursing that referee.
We were so crammed in the stadium that the area for the media was occupied by the fans. Still, it didn’t bother me, so much the better to be beside rabid fans.
Some of my colleagues cried foul though, calling the organizers that the media area was being overrun. I didn’t mind them. These primadonnas who never cared about football before the Seag – and who wouldn’t write about it if not for a brief visit by Ninoy Aquino or Tito Vic and Joey in their pockets – didn’t deserve special treatment. The fans deserve special treatment.
When Cambodia leveled the match at 2-all with less than 10 minutes to go – we were silent. But we all knew we would win. I knew that. Every fan knew that.
And so we did. Philip Greatwitch, a Filipino-Brit, scored the go ahead goal with four minutes to play – pandemonium in the stands was an understatement. Then a home-based player, Emilio Caligdong, capped the night with a lovelier goal – a chip just inside the box, in the 90th minute, and everybody’s chants and screams was drowned by the person next to you.
I remembered saying, “It couldn’t get better than this.”
After the final whistle, the players ran to the stands, while one grabbed a flag and run with it -- it is a sight that you just can’t put into words.
It is a sight to behold, that night, we were one.
That night, everything seemed possible.
IT was a sight I have never seen, a sight, I long to see again.
Twenty thousand football fans (30,000 by some estimates) screaming till they can
scream no more.
Chanting.
Cheering.
Shouting.
As one.
For that 90 minutes, nobody cared about Garci, nobody cared about the stupid squabbles up north.
We were winning, 4-2, against Cambodia.
Before the Southeast Asian Games (Seag), the most I’ve seen at a football match was two hundred. During the Seag, there were probably hundreds crammed at the gates, stretching their necks to see the action. People climbed trees, fire trucks and the gates itself to see action. That’s how jampacked the stadium was that day, Nov. 25, 2004.
It was a day, I stopped becoming a sportswriter.
Getting assigned to cover football in the Seag was a dream come true. It was akin to a politician, getting the key to the national bank, or Michael Jackson, getting the key to the Fountain of Youth.
During the first match of the Philippines -- named the Askals owing to the scraps it gets as support from the government – I had difficulty taking down notes.
During that Cambodia game, I couldn’t. My hands were shaking before the game started and taking down notes was impossible. Still, I can still recall every minute of that game – except for the times that I was screaming or cursing that referee.
We were so crammed in the stadium that the area for the media was occupied by the fans. Still, it didn’t bother me, so much the better to be beside rabid fans.
Some of my colleagues cried foul though, calling the organizers that the media area was being overrun. I didn’t mind them. These primadonnas who never cared about football before the Seag – and who wouldn’t write about it if not for a brief visit by Ninoy Aquino or Tito Vic and Joey in their pockets – didn’t deserve special treatment. The fans deserve special treatment.
When Cambodia leveled the match at 2-all with less than 10 minutes to go – we were silent. But we all knew we would win. I knew that. Every fan knew that.
And so we did. Philip Greatwitch, a Filipino-Brit, scored the go ahead goal with four minutes to play – pandemonium in the stands was an understatement. Then a home-based player, Emilio Caligdong, capped the night with a lovelier goal – a chip just inside the box, in the 90th minute, and everybody’s chants and screams was drowned by the person next to you.
I remembered saying, “It couldn’t get better than this.”
After the final whistle, the players ran to the stands, while one grabbed a flag and run with it -- it is a sight that you just can’t put into words.
It is a sight to behold, that night, we were one.
That night, everything seemed possible.
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