I'VE had my years of covering sports events up to the "Palarong Pambansa." How I wish the younger crop of Baguio journalists would have the drive and passion to do so in their prime. Not as an excuse to see places, but an opportunity to witness and capture the thrill and drama of competition.
Not an arm-chair coverage that depends on the results brought to the billeting quarters at the end of the day by coaches and athletes themselves. Not veiled plagiarism by way of rewriting and converting the dispatches of a fellow journalist who did the actual coverage and then passing these as one's own. It's honestly and actually getting the results from the field, which makes coverage a genuine labor of love.
It's not all about winning and losing. Coverage goes beyond the daily medal count of gold, silver and bronze. It has something to do with recording honesty and fair play that are the marks of a Baguio and Cordillera boy and girl -- in and out of the playing field.
The year skips me now, but my memory goes back to the final of the 100-meter dash for high school girls at the Benguet State University grounds in one regional competition. It resulted in a photo finish, with the judges declaring winner the runner from Benguet. Baguio lodged a protest.
At the victory stand, the Benguet lass suddenly handed her gold medal to her Baguio rival and slid the silver around her neck. It was a gesture Dr. Fernando Bautista Sr., the venerable sports booster and founder of the University of Baguio, wouldn't let pass. He handed the girl a cash award, gripping her hand in a firm handshake. He was as proud as any father would be over the winning feat of a daughter in or out of the race track.
A few years later, while conducting a journalism training in Dalupirip, Itogon, Benguet, I was told the honest girl had married and was living Cordillera school officials came to bid goodbye.
"Agawid kamin ta napasyar mi metten ti Mindanao (We're going home as we've already visited Mindanao)," one of them told me. What was ironic was despite the presence of delegation officials, no one was there at the taekwondo venue where our coach had to present the medals of four of her wards following the protocol that the highest delegation official present would do the honor.
Time was when our athletes had to do with under- or over-sized uniforms, or running shirts that scratched and hurt the skin, giving credence to the suspicion that they were made of hard plastic material like "plastic abot-abot."
Coverage then was far more stressful than today. Some officials were reluctant to let you peek into the results. Venues were not centralized that you had to daily commute to and from Gen. Santos City to Koronadal or from and to Naga City and Pili town in the Bicol Region. You had to wait for the national media to write and send their stories before you could have your turn on the limited typewriters, computers, fax machines and phone lines. There were no laptops then.
Of course, it took me some time to erase memory of the repeated failure of editors to use some of my daily dispatches despite their repeated assurances that they would wait for such late afternoon reports I had to mentally structure on the way to the typewriter from the field to meet the deadline.
More crucial than reporting the game and individual campaign results was assuring, through the daily broadcast reports, that the Cordillera athletes were individually and collectively safe and sound.
While on coverage, you meet people who, despite their lofty positions, treat you like a long-lost friend. We were preparing for home when a pick-up stopped by our school billeting quarters in Gen. Santos. Out came three security men with guns, followed by a diminutive yet authoritative figure who asked delegation officials where he could find me.
Before school supervisor Vic Panagan could figure out an answer, the man saw me. "Hindi ka makakaalis ng Mindanao kung di ka sasama sa amin," boomed Manny Pinol. The seasoned sports writer and commentator was then the mayor of M'lang, Cotabato. He would later serve as governor of North Cotabato.
After the handshakes and hugs, Manny dipped his hands into the pick-up's open rear flatbed and fished out a bunch of live chickens.
"Paki-pinikpikan n'yo ito at ipasyal ko muna 'tong kapatid ko (Cook these the Igorot way and I'll tour my brother around)," he advised Manong Vic.
"Ni, ammo na pay ti pinikpikan (Hey, he knows pinikpikan)," Mr. Panagan wondered aloud. (e-mail: mondaxbench@yahoo.com for comments).