One silver moment

Dear Team,

Each one of us has a reason for being here. But destiny has brought us together for one reason — to bring home a medal for our country, to make our families proud, and above all, to give glory to God!

The time has come...this is our moment.

May God be with us all.

The night before the Equestrian Team competition at the Asian Games, I posted this message at the entrance of our apartment at the Athlete’s Village in Busan, Korea.

In a male-dominated field of 40 riders, we were the only all-women Equestrian Team composed of Mikee Jaworski, Michelle Barrera, Danielle Cojuangco, Paola Cojuangco as reserve rider, Mitos Belofsky as chef d’equip and myself. The only other females in the event were Jane Lee of South Korea and Tara Ardalan of Iran.

We had been living in the Asian Games Village for three weeks before the games. The horses had been there a bit longer since they arrived before we did with their respective grooms, Turs, Lito, Jojo and Tanya.

Every morning, we would wake up to catch the 6:40 a.m. shuttle bus to the Equestrian venue. We ate at the Village dining hall which served kimchi round-the-clock, day after day.

We dealt with Korean authorities who tried their darnest to disqualify our horses for one reason or another from the day they landed in Busan.

This was what we were up against and we were raring meet the challenge. We knew it was not going to be easy. Traditionally, Japan always brought home the gold, Korea, the silver and a Middle-Eastern country like Saudi Arabia or Kuwait battled for the bronze.

Undaunted, we thought of how hard we all worked, enduring heartache and defeat that both weakened and made us strong. Without saying a word to each other, we all knew how hungry we were for a medal.

We wanted to prove something to ourselves, give back to our families who have supported us all this time, and show the Filipino people that we can excel in this sport which we love with a passion. These and our own personal reasons brought out the burning desire to win in all of us.

There was also the fear of failure. We didn’t want to disappoint our families who had come in full force to Busan to cheer for us. We didn’t want to let down our coaches Jos Kumps, Vicki Roycroft and Chris Chugg who had given their time, energy and effort to train us. Most of all, we wanted to bring good news to the millions of Filipinos rooting for us back home.

Mitos, our team manager, gathered us together in the tack room (locker room) on the morning of the first round. She sensed our fears and apprehensions. The room was quiet but filled with tension and excitement.

We were prepared as we could ever be. The only thing left to do was to pray. In one spirit, we offered our rounds to God’s greater glory. And we hoped, glory it would be.

As the team agreed, Michelle was going in first on "Coalminer," a 21-year-old Australian Thoroughbred. It was not an easy position to be in, as she needed to start the ball rolling. It was a lot to ask a 19-year-old in her first Asian Games, but since "Coalminer" was the most experienced horse of the lot, we all agreed it was for the best.

Michelle came out with eight penalties, after downing two fences. Next came Danielle and Ascot T, an eight-year-old Warm-Blood, who was unanimously considered one of the most stylish horses in the entire competition.

Danielle and Ascot T jumped a flawless round, so did Mikee on board our little hero "Rustic Rouge." I was positioned at the end of the team with my rented mount, "Nazli," a 12-year-old Belgian Warm-Blood that I only started riding six weeks prior to the competition. Like any partnership, it is of utmost importance that horse and rider know each other, in order to act and react to each other’s decisions and movements in a matter of seconds. Admittedly, this rapport was lacking between "Nazli" and myself, but we had to deal with each other for the sake of the team.

We came out with four penalties, after dropping the top bar of the wavy planks, the same jump I worried about when I walked and measured the course an hour before the competition started. With Michelle’s eight faults and my four, the Philippine team was tied at fourth place along with Iran and behind Japan, Korea and Malaysia. It was not good enough, but there was hope. Since show-jumping is a highly unpredictable sport, anything can happen.

I think I watched the video of my round over a hundred times, forward, backward and in slow motion that evening. The second and final round of the team competition came the following morning. It was going to be the same course, so I wanted to see where I had made my mistake, so I could do better the next day. After watching the video in slow-mo, I could almost see what "Nazli" was thinking just before jumping the wavy planks and taking them down. I came up with a new game plan.

Danielle was as cool as ever, confident about what she had to do the next day.

Mikee came back after being with her husband Dodot and dad Peping who were both staying outside the Village. Although having jumped a clear round that day, she knew only too well that tomorrow was another day and she needed to be as prayerful and focused as ever.

Michelle was in turmoil, digging deep within herself, trying to figure out the whys and hows to a better performance. Having the "drop" score of the first round, Michelle felt that she could not let the team down in the second round. These are the pressures of riding in a team competition, which are often unseen by audiences or television viewers.

Michelle jumped clear in the second round. She was a star. She confessed to having wanted to give up in the middle of her round because "Coalminer" was tanking her around and she needed all the strength in her little body to keep him in check and to jump and clear all 17 obstacles. She was in tears when she got off her horse, not so much from joy, as the rest of the team still had to jump, but from the release of pressure.

The 90-seconds she rode in the ring was the culmination of years of hard work and sacrifice. It was the same for the rest of us. Job done, she sat by the stands and prayed for her teammates to rise to the challenge as she had.

All eyes were now on Danielle — a looker both on and off the horse. At 17, she is the youngest competitor of the event and rose to the occasion. Ascot T had a foot in the water jump, costing them four penalties, but the team was still in the running.

Then it was Mikee’s turn to go. She and "Rou," (short for "Rustic Rouge") accumulated four faults after unluckily hitting the third to the last obstacle. Being the last rider in the starting order had its advantages, one can watch more riders tackle the course and see where the difficulties lie. But this time, I did not feel too lucky being the last to go for the team. Just before my name was announced to enter the arena, I prayed to my Guardian Angel to lend "Nazli" her wings.

I did not know for sure if I was jumping for the silver or bronze medal, as the gold already went to Japan at that point, having zero penalties in both rounds. All I knew was that I had to jump a perfect round or we lose either medal. We were only four penalties away from Korea and three penalties away from Malaysia. The moments before I entered that arena were the worst in my life! Of course I wanted to jump clear for myself, but more so for the three other girls who came before me, the Filipino contingent watching in the stands, my dad who kept calling from Manila, and above all, I wanted to give glory to God who made all of this possible.

And the rest, as they say, is history. We did not bring home the team gold, we romped off with silver, while Mikee won a gold medal for an individual event (show jumping).

As "Nazli" hurdled across the final obstacle, the grandstand composed of more Filipinos than Koreans, went wild with jubilation. It was the first Equestrian Team medal for the Philippines in the Asian Games history. It was a beautiful moment. One that may be forgotten in a few years, or even a few months, but surely remembered by Michelle, Mikee, Mitos, Paola, Danielle and myself, for the rest of our lives.