Chartered

Despite declining world audience interest, a doubles final still thrills. It doesn’t need to be at the center court of a grand slam. Neither does it need played in the international tennis circuit to push spectators to the edge of their seats. It could happen in the smallest of tournaments, like among the men and women of Mandaue City celebrating charter day.

Last week Armindo Ceniza Jr. and Randel Macalolo-oy of the city health and Joel Cortes and Dionevic Gonzaga of the social welfare and services showed how and why. It’s not even that small a tournament, considering what is at stake – honor and fame. And bragging rights. There are no small tournaments, only small players. And if it is between health and social welfare, which do you root for when both are interchangeably essential to human survival?

Cortes and Gonzaga surprised with a 3-0 lead after Randel McLoy sprayed the court, not with water to settle the dust, but with unsettling rust. Of errors. And nerves for the first time finalist. But it was easy to recover when you have a doctor for a partner. Ceniza not only heals with a shot in the arm of his patients, he also kills with a shot that passes the arms of his opponents.

Leading 5-3, Ceniza and McLoy headed to a point of no return. But Cortes and Gonzaga had a plan, never hand it over easy. They clawed back to even the match at 5-all, 6-all and 7-all. Thankfully, tournament rules allow a tiebreak to unlock the deadlock, unlike the routine draw better suited to a sport decided by a jury. A tennis match is not, and should never be, left stuck in a draw. Except in the Philippines.

Although sometimes a bad call by a lines judge favors, and worse, decides who wins. But in a final watched by a sparse crowd, there were no close calls. It was all about who played better under pressure. Or luckier.

Trailing 5-3 in the tiebreak, Gonzaga appeared frustrated, and resigned. But as always, you will never know in tennis, especially if you have lefty and crafty Joel Cortes whose steady baseline realigned the score to 6-all. It could go either way. But with a twice-to-beat advantage, Ceniza and McLoy went for broke. JV McLoy dropped a shot that touched the net, but out of luck it went through. Must not be luck though, a drop shot is an art perfected over time.

And McLoy did not lack for time. Or preparation. Or experience. He started out with the Drop Shot Tennis Club notoriously known for intoxicating rather than winning shots. He did not lack for genes either. He stayed in the shadows of his late father Renato who perfected his own signature shots in irretrievable angles. He was good, until he lasted. And now his son Randel resurrected the old man, but in a form all his own.

In the end, the quiet doctor blurted the sound of a razor sharp victory won by a razor thin margin. Cortes and Gonzaga did not live another match. Had they pulled an upset, the doctor and the rider would have to find another way to survive. It happened before, when a twice-to-beat team was beaten twice. The winner felt nice, while the other cries.