Mendoza: No escaping the Olympics

IS COVERING the Olympic Games every sportswriter’s dream?

Seemingly to all sportswriters, yes, especially to the broadsheet breed.

But, I kid you not. Not even in my wildest reveries did I covet working an Olympiad.

Never craved for it.

Never thought of it as a big deal.

Never the Vatican of my job.

When I became a sportswriter in 1974 for the Bulletin Today (Manila Bulletin’s martial law name from 1972 to 1986), that was it: I had eluded the 8-to-5 drudgery in a Makati office.

I found delight in visiting national sports association offices at the Rizal Memorial Complex from Monday to Friday, sniffing news from 2 p.m. to 4 p.m. Waste baskets were gold mines. How many times had I composed scoops from crumpled memos dug up from garbage?

At 5 p.m. in those days, when I was not covering a tournament elsewhere, I’d be at the Bulletin offices at the old Shurdutt Bldg., Muralla St., Intramuros, Manila, pounding away at my Underwood typewriter. Always, while doing it, I was imbued by the thought of trying to write the supposed last masterpiece of my much-venerated career that made my father proud.

Weekends were but ordinary as big events then, till now, were usually held on Saturdays and Sundays, sports being then, still is, the No. 1 entertainment outside of showbiz that every family eternally loved to watch together live.

The Rizal Memorial Coliseum on Vito Cruz, Manila, was the sports mecca then. Today, it is the Cubao Big Dome in Q.C.

Even when I finally started covering events overseas—the Pesta Sukan Games in Singapore, SEA Games around Southeast Asia, Asian Games, etc.—doing the Olympiad was farthest from my mind.

Then, against my wishes, I became the Inquirer’s sports editor in 1997. I don’t know, but I never really wanted the position, preferring only to be just a columnist.

Three years later, in 2000, tradition prevailed: Manila broadsheets only dispatch their sports editors to cover the Olympics.

The Sydney Olympiad was one hell of a job. I got sick coming home. Fatigued. Spent. Emaciated.

Who said the Olympics was fun?

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