School spirit

It was very uplifting to watch Game 1 of the UAAP seniors basketball final between the De La Salle Green Archers and the Ateneo de Manila Blue Eagles. The rematch faced the danger of being swallowed up by its own massive hype, but lived up to its billing.

What impressed me was not so much the intensity of the game itself, but the atmosphere. Like the armies of Rome, the faithful and frustrated of both side (including some who wished they were either alumni or students of La Salle or Ateneo) almost blew the roof off the Araneta Coliseum, which has seen its share of loud cheering in over a quarter of a century.

What is it about school spirit that is so unique, so intoxicating, that it is infectious?

At its highest, it touches the mythic, what we aspire to, to walk among the gods in everything we aspire to. The power of a great rivalry stirs the imagination more than a long-standing domination of a sport. And the mere fact that the mortality rate of players brought about by the inevitability of graduation (no matter how delayed by "taking" Master’s course) makes consistency all the harder to reach.

At its most basic, it is a continuation of personal tradition, perhaps the rare opportunity for us to indulge in the abrogated dreams of our fathers. Who hasn’t entertained the thought, even in passing, of hitting the shot that wins the championship? And how painfully limited are the chances of doing that in college, where the odds of lettering in a sport are so few, the challenges of maintaining a grade point average so difficult and overriding?

The game featured fathers and sons, generations of alumni, wearing school colors, vicariously living out their dreams through the young men running around getting woodburn from their exploits. This is the last pure bastion of the love of the game. No matter what anyone says, money is not the primary motivation. It is pride, pride of affiliation, and school is the first true place of belonging for the young, whether or not it was their choice to enroll in the first place. This is where tradition is born, if you believe in it.

When you really think about it, you paid for your education, so loyalty is purely your choice. And, if you didn’t like your school or classmates, what’s there to reminisce about the experience? But this is the first community outside the family, and blood doesn’t really count when you first step out into the real world and want to test your legs, like foals roaming the plains for the first time. And, deep inside, we all want to please our first idols, Father and Mother.

I spent my formative grade school years at De La Salle in Greenhills (helping found its literary magazine), and my high school and college terms at the Ateneo de Manila (Dulaang Sibol and Tanghalang Ateneo), I could see the unusual dislike for each other. Looking back, I wouldn’t advise transferring from one school to the other. It may even qualify as cruel and unusual punishment. (Just kidding, Mom.)

The game also proved two things. The hatred for its cross-town rival has simmered down from the violent loathing that spawned many brawls and acts of violence when both were still in the NCAA. Alumni who are still in basketball admit that the animosity lies more as a result of standing in each other’s way at the peak of their fields, basketball and all others. Before, they would only clash twice or thrice a year, as The Green Archers kept to themselves on Taft, and the Blue Eagles maintained their stead along Katipunan. Today, they see each other at social gatherings, play together on the youth team, and meet frequently in the PBL. And they are all too aware of how small the basketball fraternity is. So it is no longer as personal as it once was.

The good news is that this allows them to channel their efforts into the game itself, which has advanced tremendously in recent years.

Perhaps, most impressive, is the maturity the audience has developed. With basketball the most sought staple on television, we are at that rare space wherein the games are always in our consciousness, but are not really a matter of life and death. Until an Ateneo-La Salle comes along, and what other duel draws the imagination as much? It is the quest for excellence, with the legendary good guy and bad guy roles depending on your affiliation.

At the end of the game, each half of the Big Dome applauded, and respectfully remained solemn as each lustfully sang its school song. For me, that is the ultimate tribute.

Now if only we could harness that in building ourselves as a nation, or at least even as a million-strong cheering squad for our warriors in Busan.

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