Ed Picson, the fighter

I first met Ed Picson when I joined the PBA broadcasts of Vintage Enterprises in 1990. I had left ABS-CBN to anchor the halftime segment of the PBA broadcasts, and naturally met all of the on-camera talents. Ed was one of the most articulate broadcasters I have ever met, owing to his mother having been a schoolteacher. Thus, his diction and pronunciation were impeccable. His voice was likewise distinguished and unique, thus his long career in radio and as a voice talent. At the time I met him, he had been the voice-over announcer of Vilma Santos’ long-running Friday night variety show “VIP: Vilma in Person” for just over a decade.

What I found most striking, though, was how Ed used his voice to address matters that many people did not have the courage to question. He argued for seniority instead of uniform packages for our talent fees, ignoring any possible negative impact it would have on his own income. He questioned decisions which he felt were inimical to the interests of his fellow on-camera talents. As a young broadcaster, I found that surprising and singular. Most people would have kowtowed to management for their own self-preservation, particularly in a small company where you talk directly to the bosses and it’s easy for them to take things personally. It reached the point that Ed was later scheduled to cover games every Friday, essentially forcing him to give up his longest gig to stay on anchoring PBA games. It was a message, loud and clear.

Leapfrog a decade and a half later. Ed and I would occasionally meet at events and parent-teacher conferences at Benedictine International School in Quezon City, where our children went to high school. He was always in good cheer, teasing but never mean, always having the last word in verbal jousts, but always, always with a smile. Without fail, he would call out “William!”, the only person other than my mother (and Boyet Sison) who called me by my formal name. He would quote old song lyrics to make a point, and was always firm on what was and was not non-negotiable.

It was refreshing to learn that Ed got the job of overseeing the growth of ABAP. One of his most admirable traits was that he kept on learning. His facility for local dialects – and his mastery of southern ones – was one of his biggest advantages on the job, since the majority of our boxers hail from the Visayas and Mindanao. This began years of constant travel and battling for better treatment for Filipino boxers in international competitions. Sometimes, the only way to beat the system is from within. Whenever he was a guest on my program Hardball, we would talk behind the scenes about his experiences. He laughed at some of the fringe countries he and the boxing team visited, where exotic food like horsemeat were staples. Hazards of the job, the good soldier would say. Under his determined, industrious watch, Philippine boxing slowly, painfully improved. The last Olympics brought the country three medals, a record for a single edition of the Games.

In this day and age where people broadcast their littlest problems over social media, Ed Picson was old school. He kept his health concerns to himself and his family, protecting both his privacy and his dignity. It was his battle to fight, and his alone. Why burden others with worry? Today, as he is laid to rest, those are some of the values that we hope are remembered, along with his spirit of fair play and fighting for the little guy. Thank you for that, Ed. As you always said at the end of a broadcast we’ll see you around.