A case of ‘gangreen’

I have great news: My book – It Only Hurts When I Pee, RJ’s Guide to Bodily Gases Hair Loss and Pink Parts — was a finalist in the Leisure Category of the 32nd National Book Awards. 

And I have good news: after the awards were announced end-October, my book will always be a finalist in the 32nd National Book Awards. 

That’s two years in a row that my books (My other book — Is It Hot In Here Or Is It Me?: RJ’s Guide to Flirting, Body Language and Pick-Up Artists — was a finalist in the previous year for the same category) have been finalists in the National Book Awards. I feel like a Miss Philippines contestant in Miss Universe.

Hopefully, the brisk sales of my new book Playing With Pink Parts (my mom is preparing to give them out as Christmas gifts after she crosses out with a black market all my half-naked parts) has inspired my publishers to let me come out with my next book which is near and dear to one of my biggest pink parts (not that part): my heart. My love for my alma mater. 

 Allow me to share some excerpts from my upcoming book that shares not only about the heritage of my Lasallian education but also about the La Salle-Ateneo rivalry (which, not by coincidence, comes out after a La Salle-Ateneo UAAP seniors basketball game).

Green minded

I have been green-minded for the past 17 years of my life. Green was hard-wired into my DNA. I am a Lasallian three generations deep and proud of it. And if you were to ask me what part of my education cemented my love for a school founded by a French priest three hundred years ago, I would say that it was the time in my life that hair began to sprout in unfamiliar places: high school.

Let’s rewind back to those tasteful years of the late ‘80s/early ‘90s — when the movies Running Man and Who Framed Roger Rabbit? were immortalized as dance steps; when Master Showman was something that only existed in the mind of Kuya Germs; and when there was a series of insanely popular commercials for Royal Tru Orange about the travails of Joey, the Pinoy teenager next door (whatever became of that chubby, curly-haired, pa-cute boy?).

God knows our senior year felt like a tale straight out of a South American magical realism novel. We started off the year with the bloodiest kudeta in President Cory’s six-year term, endured it with a series of brownouts, a multinational war versus Iraq and a four-day school week (alas, that magical period lasted for all of a week) and finally capped it off with an earthquake.

But do you know what was a tragedy worse than military adventurism, a gulf war and natural calamity for a 16-year-old boy? It was not having a school prom. Twice. The Christian Brothers called off our proms because they deemed it inappropriate during times that called for austerity. So, being the obedient students that we were, we attempted to stage underground proms. But our efforts were as successful as getting Napoles to tell the truth. Argh. As if puppy love, peer pressure and pubic hair (or the lack thereof) weren’t already enough to contend with.

But perhaps it was situations like these that taught us what it meant to be united as students of a La Salle school. The true learning came when we weren’t being graded, but came rather in situations where we were taught the same gospel values that St. La Salle taught his students over 300 years ago. 

Instead of cursing our inability to invite our crush to a prom date and show her your prowess at doing the Running Man, the Brothers taught us to appreciate our blessings in times that required austerity. We were brought to interactions with the seniors at the Golden Acres retirement community to appreciate the blessing of old age, we were sent to immersions in urban poor areas to appreciate the blessing of family, and we shared our classrooms (and even donated our used school books) with the Adult Night High School to appreciate the blessing of education.

I would like to think that the Brothers made us undergo these experiences not only to teach us about living our faith, but also to teach us to serve with our faith. In 2006, during the Congress of the World Union of Former La Sallian students, Bro. Alvaro Rodriguez Echeverria, FSC, the Superior General, shared in his address that “when you enter a La Sallian school you do so in order to learn. That seems obvious. However, the question that comes up is: to learn what? The slogan for Congress gives us the answer: ‘In order to serve.’” (Then Bro. Alvaro borrows from the playlist of one of our prominent friends from the other side of town): “As Father Pedro Arrupe, former Superior General of the Jesuits, expressed so well many years ago, the goal of Catholic educational institutions can be none other than this. Today, our principal educational objective — he said — is to form men and women for others... people who cannot conceive of loving God without loving the least of the brethren; men and woman who are totally convinced that love of God that does not manifest itself in justice for others is a farce. This type of education goes directly against the educational trend that is prevalent practically throughout the world.” (God loves the green and blue alike, even during basketball games).

The quiver and the talons

This is when clocks stop, when sweat pumps, when pulses race, and when cuss words fly. No, this is not the middle of a prostate exam. This is not waiting for the results of a pregnancy test. This is not getting caught watching a porn movie by your parents.

This is an Ateneo-La Salle basketball game.

Whenever there is an Ateneo-La Salle game, statistics gain government spokesperson-like credibility when both our players start dribbling the ball. During the heat of the game, we both clutch our rosaries and invoke the names of our respective patron saints and pray to the good Lord to lead our teams to victory. And when the announcer yodels “last two minutes,” quantum physics kicks in and two minutes can stretch out into an eternity. In those two minutes, a seven-point lead can vanish as mysteriously as the Malampaya fund.

But, dear God, we love this rivalry, don’t we? From debate to golf to jack en poy, all you have to do is slap on that imprimatur of the Society of Jesus (SJ) or the Fratres Scholarum Christianarum (FSC), and both sides start painting on their war colors. And this rivalry hits its crescendo when we duke it out on the hard court. Our rubber matches are the few times that we can be unapologetically blue and green. We invest so much of ourselves in school pride (some even invested P25,000 to score a ticket online), that it is very easy to lose ourselves in the rivalry.

However, I’d like to think that our rivalry was born of a healthy respect for a competitor that pushes us to better ourselves. Whenever I see both our players on the court, I cannot even imagine the scale of responsibility that rests on the shoulders of these young men who carry the hopes and dreams of thousands of students and alumni. But it is also from the hopes and dreams of their supporters, scattered across the generations and across the globe, from which the players draw their extra-dimensional source of “oomph” to summon forth that Archer sting or Eagle bite. These are the type of supporters whose relationship to our players is so intimate that they have the tenacity to watch the games live every heart-stopping time. “Screw the statistics,” they say. “To hell with the predictions,” they proclaim. “Any Ateneo-La Salle game is do-or-die time. And my boys need me there.”

As a result, these young men, armed with sinew and flushed with adrenaline, have only one mantra running through their minds during the game: “I cannot lose to that school.” When this happens, our amateur cagers do not merely possess fighting spirit. They are our fighting spirit. 

For me, one of the greatest lessons I have learned from the rivalry brought about by these games is the opportunity for us to become more “human” toward each other. How living up to the value of our rivalry helps us build each other up instead of tear each other apart. How we can be men for others for La Sallians and how we can be Christian achievers for God and country for Ateneans. In the end, we aren’t really poles apart: we take pride in our players. We take pride in our schools. We take pride that our schools give us an opportunity to become part of this ongoing rivalry. In the end, our principles know no color. Our respect knows no color. And our faith embraces both colors. 

I have always wondered what those at the top of our respective alma maters think about all this rivalry business. And I do mean all the way to the top. I once had the opportunity to visit the Mother House of the De La Salle Brothers in Rome where I met Br. Alvaro Rodriguez Echeverria, FSC, the superior general. Because I couldn’t rein in my kakulitan, I asked the Brother Superior about his global take on our beloved adversaries.

“What do you think about this rivalry between the Jesuit and the Christian Brothers schools in the Philippines?” I asked. Br. Alvaro laughed. “We are very good friends with the Jesuits. In fact, when Fr. Adolfo Nicolas, SJ (the Jesuit Superior General) visits the Vatican next week, he drops by the Mother House to celebrate Mass. Both the La Salle brothers and the Jesuits are some of the largest religious orders in the world.” He said with a smile.  “God needs all the help he can get.”

* * *

For comments and suggestions, please email or visit www.rjledesma.com.  Follow @rjled on Twitter and @rjled610 on Instagram.

For my fellow Lasallians and readers who would like to help our kababayans who have been affected by Yolanda, please visit http://delasalle.ph/news/2013/11/10/one-la-salle-relief-drive-yolanda.