Ay, tange! Can't get those text jokes!

You know that you’re getting old when you write about the Ateneo-La Salle UAAP championship game long after the celebrations have ended, cases of champagne bottles have been opened, thanksgiving Masses have been heard, and huge bets have been paid (or unpaid).

This is the last of it, promise.

Game 3 was so important that our Excom meeting at our office that Saturday had to be moved one hour earlier to allow some members to rush to Araneta Coliseum that afternoon. Of greater surprise was the bosses agreeing to change the schedule of the meeting all for that game. I guess the tickets from Ateneo president Fr. Ben Nebres all the more made the game worth watching!

While in the middle of the meeting, a text message came from one of the members. "Pare," the text message said, "I have two extra lower box tickets. Nakakakuha ako sa mga Aranetas. Text me if you want them......Dec. 14, Holiday on Ice."

Being a die-hard UP Maroons fan with no sense whatsoever about the longtime rivalry between Ateneo and La Salle, I texted him back, "Are you referring to the games or the ice show? I’m not too fond of ice shows."

He texted me back, "That’s supposed to be a joke. You would think that the tickets are for the games, ‘yun pala it’s for the ice show."

Ay tange!

And that’s exactly what I texted him back, "Ay tange! I’m a UP Maroons fan kasi."

A few days before that, I received another joke through text, this time with a caricature of ex-president Erap, complete with sideburns and moustache. It was "signed" in script form, "With love, Jose Velarde."

The joke said, "Mga kapwa ko Atenista, weather-weather lang yan! Atin na ang games 4 and 5. Kausap na ni Jinggoy ang mga ref! Sa kanila na game 3."

Well, Erap didn’t predict game 3 correctly, the same way that he didn’t predict his downfall.

A friend commented that if only we Pinoys were as united as either the Ateneans or La Sallites during the games, then our country would be better off.

Another friend said that if people in government would stick to their political parties the way the Ateneans and La Sallites stick to their alma mater, then we would also be better off.

But what do you do if you’re an Atellite like my husband Perry (La Salle undergraduate, Ateneo for Law) who always sides with whoever wins?

Oops, sorry my dear...

* * *

My husband and I were fortunate enough to have gotten tickets to the New York Philharmonic concert last October 18 at the Cultural Center of the Philippines (CCP). The tickets were courtesy of my dad, who got them courtesy of Citigroup, who brought in the world-famous orchestra to the Philippines for a two-night performance to celebrate its 100 years in the Philippines.

If it’s a symphony orchestra you have to hear, it should be nothing less than the New York Philharmonic. This year, Lorin Maazel became musical director/conductor of the orchestra. His talent is awesome. At 72, you wonder how he still has the energy to do it.

The invitation said: Strictly formal. Black tie or Barong. We were seated in one of the boxes, but the aircon wasn’t exactly working. If you were in black tie, you’d wish that your tie would twirl like a mini-fan. CCP is our premier concert hall, and if the aircon there doesn’t work, you can imagine how the other government-run art and music institutions look like. The male orchestra members didn’t wear their usual black coats. I wonder if they also felt fried on stage, especially with all those lights

Being the host of the night, the big boss of Citibank Philippines was expected to make a speech. Said the voiceover in his booming baritone voice, "Ladies and Gentlemen ... the Country Corforate Officer of Citibank Philippines, Ms. Catherine Weir."

My husband and I looked at each other and hummed a familiar Christmas tune, "Do you hear what I hear?"

Corforate???

For a while we were wondering whether we were at the CCP.

I should actually be talking about the concert itself, but much has been written about it already, and I’m not an expert in music, even if I had a decade of horrifying piano lessons in school. The New York Philharmonic played pieces by Beethoven, Debussy and Sebelius. Although I recognize Beethoven and Debussy, I didn’t recognize any of their pieces that evening. I thought Sebelius was a Roman composer during the time of King Herod, only to remember that classical music for orchestra didn’t start until the 1600’s or something. Sebelius turned out to be Finnish (the only Finnish name I recognize is Nokia). I recognized Debussy, having played Debussy in high school. It was a piece calledGolliwog’s Cakewalk, and the piece was as strange as its title. It was like you were floating on air, and even the piece that New York Philharmonic played made me float on air. I was trying to check if anyone was sleeping in the audience but I was in a box and all I could see was the top of everyone’s head.

Not recognizing any of the pieces, I didn’t dare clap until everyone did. I didn’t want to be caught dead clapping in the middle of a piece. I wonder how many felt the same way. But in most pieces, you somehow know when it’s ending when the violinists ferociously start moving their bows back and forth at the speed of light, the player beats the timpani (the drum that looks like Papa Bear’s bowl) like he was smashing a frozen piece of steak, the player bangs the cymbals against each other at regular intervals, and the conductor waves his baton like a pendulum and jumps up and down the podium. Just like the way some marriages end. The scene starts with a little complaint, and then it turns into a shouting match, then the kids start crying and next thing you know, plates are being thrown across the room, not to forget the table lamp and the TV set.

Mr. Maazel had two encores, which the audience immediately recognized. One was a composition by Bizet and the other one was Brahms’ Hungarian Dance. Just when everyone was beginning to get enthralled, the wonderful concert ended.