I love you just because

People love sports teams for many different reasons. This week was a testament to the durability of an individual team and an enduring rivalry. It was also proof of how indifference is deadly.

Wednesday, a larger than average crowd attended the game between Barangay Ginebra and Red Bull Barako. Aided by the students and families who watched the preceding NAASCU game, the PhilSports Arena was noisier than usual. And the teams did not disappoint. The Gin Kings came back from a 10-point deficit in the fourth quarter to steal the game, thanks to Ricky Price’s endgame heroics.

Why do people still flock to watch Ginebra play even though its moving spirit, Robert Jaworski, has long left the game? Perhaps it is because of the ethic that was established in the team’s dynastic years from the late 1980’s to the early 1990’s. Probably it had something to do with the unglamorous bunch of soldiers he recruited for each of the team’s incarnations. Possibly it is because they were — and still are — ordinary people trying to make something of themselves. Likely, like every Juan de la Cruz, they often exceed expectations. Most of all, it is because they mirror the man on the street himself, who succeeds even when he isn’t given a ghost of a chance. That’s why people still love Ginebra.

Saturday, the Araneta Coliseum was packed to the rafters for the second-round game between the defending UAAP champion Ateneo de Manila and last year’s runner-up De La Salle University. Needless to say, ABS-CBN did another magnificent job of building up anticipation of the rematch to heroic proportions, even though the game had no real bearing for the Green Archers.

The excitement level for any game between these two exceeds normal levels, simply because of the history behind it. This animosity, which extends all the way back to the 1950’s (when simple cheering evolved into an inexplicable bitterness between the two schools) has been passed on over the generations.

But why do people really care? First of all, they have their own built-in fan bases, an increasingly vocal army of alumni and alumnae, who buy the tickets and merchandise, wave the foam signs, wear the t-shirts, paint their faces, chant the cheers, and sing the school songs. Uniquely, they also applaud each other as the smoke of battle settles, an admirable and exceedingly rare trait in these times. And people appreciate the effort each team puts into the match. They aren’t going through the motions. They want to win, team standings be damned.

On a deeper level, we attach our esteem to our schools because high school and college were the most undeniably turbulent, sharply emotional times of our lives. These were the years when we felt our deepest fears, fell into our deepest loves, shared our deepest pains, and imprinted our deepest allegiances. Even if we were thrust into those environments by our parents, figuratively tossed into the currents, as it were, we still recall all the joyful and dark times with extra clarity. School often makes us what we are, and for that, we sometimes feel an unspoken need to give back, even though many of our experiences there were unpleasant, even when being there wasn’t of our choosing in the first place.

But the question remains: do we favor teams or players? Where do our allegiances truly lie? The Filipino is, as a whole, personality-oriented. That’s why bands and acting troupes only go so far, and why soloists and actors shine brighter. And that is why basketball is perfect for us. Though there are five players on the court, there is always at least one star player, a nova in the constellation. That’s why even female Blue Eagle fans like good-looking Green Archers, and even hardcore La Salle alumnae giggle around Ateneo players. The bias does not overpower physical attraction.

At the same time, it is rare that fans remain loyal when a team keeps on losing. Winning builds upon itself, a slow snowball down a peak blanketed by white powder. Winning begets popularity. That is why Michael Jordan remained wildly popular for a long time, at least in Chicago. His Bulls are the only team in NBA history to bat a hundred percent in the finals. They won every time they made it there.

That may also be the reason why fans are getting pumped up about all the one-on-one matches that the PBA will be holding. Mon Fernandez and Philip Cezar may be over the hill, but their names still resonate among the older fans, and the children who grew up hearing their names. The possibility of Samboy Lim and Bong Alvarez matching up stirs the imagination, even if it will be only for a few minutes. Attached to them are our memories of simpler times, when the game itself was not dominated by the overly large, and when scandal was a whiff in the air, and not the overpoweringly pungent cocktail of aromas that permeated even the halls of congress.

Today’s players can only hope to be talked about with the same reverence some day. Good luck.

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Lastly, while we’re on the matter of reflection, say a prayer for six-year old Vincent Ian Fidelis. We wrote about this young Red Bull fan’s condition a few months ago, as he painfully battled Wiscott Aldrich Syndrome, which left him bleeding from the eyes and nose at times. Many fought alongside him, including the Red Bull Barako and friends. He fought the good fight, but succumbed last Friday night. May the little angel watch over us as we tried to watch over him.