This is a fever that postpones Senate hearings, closes down offices in the Central Business District, and helps Adidas meet profit margins. This is a fever that turns prim and proper rosary bead-clutching kolehiyalas into fierce cheerleaders pumping their middle fingers in the air.  This is a fever that reduces men to brash khaki pants wearing schoolboys making hamon (calling out) each other to suntukan (fistfight) at the back of the school. 

We are talking about a rivalry that is as entrenched as the New York Yankees versus the Boston Red Sox.  As blood spattered as Toyota versus Crispa.  And as scathing as Noranians versus the Vilmanians. 

It is Katipunan versus Taft.  Eagle versus Archer.  Gary Lising versus Johnny Litton.  It is Ateneo versus La Salle.  When both schools do battle, school is out and green and blue alike are being given a lesson in aerodynamics at the Araneta Center.  

These are the games that are visceral in nature. Tribal in essence. Epic in scale.  And amplified through merchandising.  It is a rivalry where your shine or shame after the game becomes a subject of national concern.  And – because the cosmic scales of balance demanded it – the fiercest of rivals faced off in this year’s UAAP basketball finals. 

And, this season, it just had to be raining hard during Game Two. 

Argh. The agony. 

But despite the frustration, despite the heartbreak, and despite the hair loss, I continue to revel in this rivalry as much as the next hardcore Archer or diehard Eagle.  And I’m as hardcore as you can practically get.  I’m third generation strong, sixteen years berde and proud of it.  This rivalry has been programmed into my DNA as I am sure it has it has been twined into the double helix of those who have blue gushing in their veins.  When our boys won last year, I howled like a banshee and my body was spitting out so much alpha-male testosterone I was worried my wife might grow chest hair. But, this year, when the Iglesia ni Chris Tiu overcame our Church of Casio, I felt my heart crumple and implode as I went into voluntary sensory deprivation. I couldn’t bear to watch the news or read the papers or even check my email because any tidbit of news replaying the Katipunero victory was like an anathema to green bloods like me. It got so bad that even my yaya couldn’t comfort me.     

But, dear God, we love this rivalry don’t we?  From debate to golf to jack en poy, all you have to do is slap on that imprimatur of the Society of Jesus (SJ) or the Fratres Scholarum Christianarum (FSC), and both sides start painting on their war colors.  And this rivalry hits its crescendo when we duke it out on the hard court.  Our rubber matches are the few times that we can be unapologetically blue and green.  We invest so much of ourselves in school pride (some even invested P25,000 to score a ticket on E-bay), that it is very easy to lose ourselves in the rivalry. 

And why not?  After all, we’re only human.

I’d like to think that our rivalry was borne out of a healthy respect for a competitor that pushes us to better ourselves.  Whenever I see both our players on the court, I cannot even imagine the scale of responsibility that rests on the shoulders of these young men who carry the hopes and dreams of thousands of students and alumni.  But it is also from the hopes and dreams of their supporters, scattered through the generations and across the globe, from which the players draw their extra-dimensional source of ooomph for that archer sting or eagle bite.  These are the type of supporters whose relationship to our players is so intimate that they have the tenacity to watch the games live every heart-stopping time. ‘Screw the statistics’, they say.  ‘To hell with the predictions’, they proclaim.  “Any Ateneo-La Salle game is do or die time. And my boys need me there.”

As a result, these young men, armed with sinew and flushed with adrenaline, have only one mantra running through their minds during the game – “I cannot lose to THAT school.”  When this happens, our amateur cagers do not possess fighting spirit.  They are our fighting spirit.  

We all relish the passion, the zest and the loss of bladder control that this rivalry brings to the humdrum of our daily lives.  In fact, we want to be overtaken by our passions.  We want to be seized by the moment.  We want to be swept away by the experience.   And I can see why: In a world where uncertainty is the norm – where we are unsure as to where global economy is heading, when we are clueless as to which government official is telling us the truth and when we don’t know who will win in Survivor Philippines – our basketball games are the ultimate escapist fantasies.  During the hard court battle, the lines are clearly drawn.  We know who deserve our cheers and who deserve our jeers.  We know who is the hero and who is the villain. We know who is the victor and who is the vanquished.  Yes, these games truly bring out the best in us.     

And, sometimes, it brings out the beast in us as well.   

And why not?  We’re only human.

When we have a rivalry as impassioned as ours, it’s almost too easy to tumble over the slippery slope that keeps our rivalry in the pink of health.  In the wake of this year’s championships, I’ve heard some things and I’ve seen some things and I’ve read some things (yes, my bout with sensory deprivation is now over) that would infuriate those of us who bleed blue or green.  These things I came across don’t bear repeating in this column, for either of our sakes.  But, needless to say, some of these acts denigrate the respect for our rivalry.

Whenever somebody from ‘one side’ steps out of line, this step can be magnified in the eyes of some from the ‘other side’ who take it as a cue that the actions of some speak for the rest of his institution.  When this happens, there is the tendency  to jump to the conclusion that whatever negative stereotypes we’ve heard about our opposite number is automatically justified.   

And there are also some from both camps who believe that a certain degree of animosity must exist between our schools. And I admit that I know how this feels like because I’ve been in that space, too.  I can’t help but think, though, that being in that space prevented me from appreciating that some ‘one’ from the ‘other side’ of the fence could not only be a great rival, but a great person as well. 

Ever since I lost my parental financing and reluctantly entered the workforce, there are many Ateneans I’ve encountered over the years whom I have come to respect, to admire and to trade friendly barbs with.  And there are many of us who have had siblings and relatives and friends who we ‘lost’ to the ‘other’ school.  But after many an Ateneo-La Salle game, we often get together with those ‘lost’ people from the ‘other school’ so we can share a beer, engage in some good-natured and slightly off-colored ribbing, and maybe throw a couple of wayward punches at each other while we’re at it (my sister packs a mean wallop).  And as we enjoy the camaraderie, I can’t bring myself to think: Are the same people from the ‘other school’ who disparage our basketball players, who put down our alma mater and who ridicule the caliber of our education?

Even if they are from the ‘other side’, I know that we both cross ourselves and offer a prayer before the start of every game.  I know that we both fervently sing our alma mater song whether we win or we lose.  And I know that we both try to remain humble in victory and gracious in defeat.  But, sometimes, even when we try our best to be humble or gracious, it just doesn’t work out that way.   

After all, we’re only human. 

I think one of the greatest lessons I have gleaned from this rivalry is the opportunity for us to become more human for each other.  How living up to the value of our rivalry helps us build each other up instead of take each other apart. How we can be men for others for La Sallians and how we can be Christian achievers for God and country for Ateneans.  In the end, we aren’t really poles apart: we take pride in our players.  We take pride in our schools.  We take pride that our schools give us an opportunity to become part of this ongoing rivalry. In the end, our principles know no color. Our respect knows no color.  And our faith embraces both colors.   

I have always wondered what those on top of our respective alma maters think about all this rivalry business.  And I do mean all the way to the top.  Earlier this year, I had the opportunity to visit the Mother House of the De La Salle Brothers in Rome where I met Br. Alvaro Rodriguez Echeverria, FSC, the superior general.  Because I couldn’t rein in my kakulitan, I just had to ask the Brother Superior about his global take on our beloved adversaries. 

“Brother, what do you think about this rivalry between the Jesuit and the Christian Brothers schools in the Philippines?” I asked him playfully.  Br. Alvaro laughed. “We are very good friends with the Jesuits. Both the La Salle brothers and the Jesuits are some of the largest religious orders in the world.  God needs all the help he can get.”  he smiled.  “In fact, when Fr. Adolfo Nicolas, SJ (the Jesuit Superior General) visits the Vatican next week, he will drop by the Mother House to celebrate mass.”

But I’m still going to be cheering myself hoarse for good ol’ De La Salle in next year’s season.  My rivals would expect nothing less.       

So, am I worried about how our boys are going to fare next season?  Hell, I’m worried about how our boys are going to fare for the next fifty seasons.

But I know that there will be a season for everyone. And for everything.

(Originally published in Philippine Star on October 29, 2008)

I still can’t bear to watch an Ateneo-La Salle game.

My pulse races to an anxious roar, uneasy sweat lances my eyes and my bones liquefy to the consistency of taho. 

And that’s even before the game starts. 

Despite that, there are still alumni from both alma maters who will risk their health over forty excruciatingly long minutes.  They don’t mind the adrenal rush that leads to increased stress levels.  They don’t mind the sudden bursts of testosterone that lead to hair loss.   And they don’t mind testing the warranties on their pacemakers.  

But I am not one of those people. 

I have unusually high cholesterol levels, I have several unpaid credit card bills, and I am working seven jobs to pay for my wedding.  I can use the additional stress like I could use an additional appendix.

Ah, forget about it.

I admit it, ok?  I just don’t have the balls to watch the game.   

And as confirmed by our proctologist, my fiancée has a bigger set of balls than me when it comes to watching any Ateneo-La Salle game.  She actually enjoys the prospect of potential hair loss.  Whenever there’s an Ateneo-La Salle game on tv, she pulls out her moth-eaten cheerleader’s outfit from the closet, does a couple of cartwheels, and screams until she pops an artery. 

Me, I like the testosterone-free way of enjoying the game.  I will read the sports section the following day.  And, depending on the outcome of the game, I will treat everyone to a cappuccino or I will pour piping hot coffee onto my genitals.

However, there are those who conspire to induce my hair loss and thus make me lose any endorsements for hair care products that I have so far.  Friends from both Loyola and Taft will find ways to give me a blow-by-blow account of the game via text or e-mail or cloud signals.  Thus, I make it point to be unreachable during any game, like in a country where the latest technological innovation is a rotary phone. It is either that I make myself scarce or I will have to rent out a generator for a short-wave electromagnetic pulse.   

Whenever there is an Ateneo-La Salle game, statistics gain GMA-like credibility when both our players start dribbling the ball.   During the heat of the game, we both clutch onto our rosaries and invoke the names of our respective patron saints and pray to the good Lord to lead our teams to victory.  And somewhere up there, St. Ignatius and St. La Salle are probably taking pokes at each but unfortunately the good Lord fails to notice because he’s breaking up a round of fisticuffs between St. Benedictine and St. John Lateran. Finally, when the announcer yodels the last two minutes, quantum physics kicks in and two minutes can stretch out into an eternity.   And in those two minutes, a seven-point lead can vanish as mysteriously as a dubious Comelec executive.

Whatever yogic inclinations I’ve had of detaching from my ego gets flushed down the karmic toilet when my good ol’ alma mater is at stake.  These are the games that divide families, that anger slash elate bookies and that postpone Senate investigations.  And this is a rivalry that is as mythic as that of the Boston Red Sox versus the New York Yankees.  The Spartans versus the Persians.  The administration versus the truth.  It is the Blue versus the Green.  The Eagle versus the Archer.  The discretionary budget of PLDT-Smart versus the discretionary budget of ICTSI.

And for those of us who belong to either side of the fence, getting yourself swept up into the electrically-charged atmosphere of the game is probably the purest and the most cardiac-arresting expression of school spirit that we can muster.  The games are actually integral to building school spirit, along with cutting class for barkada gimmicks, cramming for exams and scrambling to pay for horrendously spiraling tuition fees.  And the great thing about the game is that you don’t even have to know a thing about basketball.  All you need is to do is wear a blue or green shirt, know if you are supposed to cheer “One Big Fight” or “Rektikano” and willing to risk laryngitis. 

The only thing you are required to do during THE game, whether you are at home or in a bar or in an emergency room, is to cheer with your heart on your sleeve.  Is there any other way to cheer for your team?  And when team your wins, you feel your heart swell like an overpriced government contract.  But when your team loses, you feel like somebody’s taken your heart, stomped on it a couple of times, ran it through a meat grinder, stir-fried it in pork fat and MSG, devoured it, regurgitated it and then threw it up all over the floor.

As if this heart-wrenching procedure wasn’t good enough, rabid blue babblers and gang greenies are forced to repeat this process year in and year out.  And because God would have both Ateneans and La Sallians experience life-threatening experiences as it brings us closer to Him, we repeated this heart-stopping process FIVE freaking times over this season.  At this rate, I’d rather ask my cardiologist to induce a heart attack instead of waiting for one to happen. 

This year was particularly swell-worthy season for the De La Salle Green Archers Men’s Senior Basketball Team who went from suspension to vindication.  But the road to the championship was a mad scramble with the Ateneo Blue Eagles.  All of those games could have gone either way.  I’d be careful not to gloat over this because Ateneo still has sweet-shooting “Iglesia ni Chris Tiu” (or Chris “The Master” Tiu, a familiar nickname for all those men with oil-rich producing faces) in their armory.  But more than that, both our institutions have waged a fierce seesaw battle in the UAAP’s final four since 2001, and I feel like an unlubricated fulcrum. 

Sometimes winning and losing against “the other school” becomes the end all and be all for those of us who bleed blue or green. We couldn’t care less about coup rumblings or bribery scandals or who gets nominated for eviction from Pinoy Big Brother Celebrity Edition. But what we do care passionately about is the chance to relish sweet victory.  And the pissing points that go with it.   

It seems that every time our players step into the courts during an Ateneo-La Salle game, they become more than human.  They transform into archetypes of our pride in our respective institutions. 

I remember many an Archer who have responsible for my pride and for my progressive hair loss since 1991 – From Dickie Bachman to Jun Limpot to Noli Locsin to Tony Boy Espinosa to Jason Webb to Dwight and Elmer Lago to Dino Aldeguer to Don Carlos Allado to Mark Telan to Renren Ritualo to Mike Cortez to BJ Manalo to Mark Cardona to Joseph Yeo to TY Tang to Rico Maierhofer.  But just as much as I remember these Archers, I fondly remember the Eagles who gave me many a heartache – From Olsen Racela to Richie Ticzon to Vince Hizon to Gabby Cui to Sandy Arespacochaga to John Verayo to Rainier Sison to Rich Alvarez to Enrico Villanueva to Wesley Gonzales to Larry Fonacier to Macky Escalona to LA Tenorio to JC Intal to Doug Kramer to Japeth Aguilar to Chris Tiu.

And it is when our players are shooting it out for mythic glory on the hardcourt that our reactions turn so visceral that we often lose sense of ourselves.  I mean, did those invectives really spew forth from my mouth?   Did my fingers really involuntarily curl up into that gesture? Did I really expose my tattooed derriere with the logo of “the other school” on national television? 

But hey, it happens to all of us.  Except for maybe the exposed derriere.  But that’s because we’re only human.  And being human means that sometimes the pride that fuels our rivalry gets the better of us.

Today, they are our siblings, our spouses, our friends, our officemates, our badminton partners and our three female readers.  But come game time they are moving targets that deserve our contempt when “their side” wins and who deserve our insults when “their side” loses. The gloating and the name-calling.  The grandstanding and the mudslinging.  The one-upmanship and the grumbling.  These are great attributes for one to display in congress. But these behaviors are a disservice for those of us who have been “ruined” by our Jesuit or Christian Brother education. 

We can’t assume that just because some of us are thick-skinned enough to take some “good-natured” ribbing that it grants us the wherewithal to dish it out as well.  There are some who can take a couple of nasty put-downs, there are some who can stomach the occasional derogatory remark. And there are some who will want to rip apart your intestines to see if you really do bleed blue or green.  I’m sure that there are those of us who do bleed blue or green, but if we stab each other enough we’ll both end up slumped in a pool of red.

But what’s even more stab-worthy is when we reduce “the other school” to negative stereotypes just so that we can keep our ranking in the pedestal of pissing points.  In truth, neither school can claim a monopoly for being home to the smartest, the most academically gifted, the most successful, the most generous, and the most humble.  But neither school can also claim a monopoly for being home to the most mayabang, the most snooty, the most boleros, the most number of poor spelers (oops, I mean spellers) and the most pro-administration congressmen (although we can do a head count for this one). Instead of ‘vilifying’ each other, let us vilify those who deserve it:  the cowardly perpetrators of the explosions at Glorietta, Makati, or the shameless masterminds behind the suhulan in Malacanang, or the DOMs who expose too much man-cleavage.

Our misplaced sense of school pride often gets in the way of appreciating how much we are alike than we expect.  Br. Mark Lopez, SJ from the Loyola House of Studies spent his formative years at La Salle Greenhills but then jumped over the bakod to pursue Management Engineering at Ateneo de Manila University (ADMU).  He ended up as the Executive Director of the Jesuit Volunteers Program before being spirited away by the Jesuits.  “I would like to think that most Jesuits see or appreciate the Ateneo-La Salle rivalry in the context of healthy competition, and school spirit. At the very least it makes for amusing banter at mealtime or recreation conversations (with La Sallian-Jesuits getting the flack from the Ateneans, or vice-versa after the championships).  Interestingly, among the La Sallian-Jesuits, none are ashamed of their greener roots. In fact, many of us are proud (in a good way) and will be in their greenest outfits before (or especially after a La Salle-Ateneo game).” Br. Mark shared with much amusement, but declined to share if the color of the blood shed after those recreation conversations were blue or green. 

”More than the games, though, the interesting and more edifying areas of intersection between these schools are less known to the general public.” Br. Mark added.  “And I think these are the areas of spirituality and mission.  The Chaplain and Spiritual Director of the La Salle Brothers in the Philippines is actually a Jesuit. He directs them in their retreats and presides over special masses and is happy to help with other forms of spiritual guidance.   There was also a time when the novitiate stage of formation for the La Salle brothers was also in the Sacred Heart Jesuit Novitiate in Novaliches (so Jesuit novices and La Salle Brother-novices were actually housed in the same compound for some time.)”

Br. Ricky Laguda, FSC is the President of De La Salle Araneta University in Malabon. After spending his grade and high school years in the University of St. La Salle Bacolod, Br. Ricky switched sides to pursue philosophy at ADMU.  “Looking deeply at the lives of both our founders, they are essentially the same.” Br. Ricky shared.  “Both were good at doing what they felt was God’s call.  Both were students and advocates of the Counter Reformation. And both were excellent “patron saints”.  St. Ignatius was a Patron Saint of Retreats and Retreatants.  St La Salle was Patron Saint of Teachers.  Both had a great love for God, the Church, and the world.  In fact, if you visit St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome, you will find them “next to each other”.  The statue of St. La Salle’s is actually looking down at the statue of St. Ignatius.”  (But let us save this discussion for next season’s championships. – RJ)    

“In the end, we may not readily admit it, but the Jesuits and De La Salle Brothers, La Salle and Ateneo, aren’t really too different from each other.” chimed in Br. Ariane Lopez, FSC, an alumnus of De La Salle Zobel who pursued Social Studies in ADMU. He is currently involved in Vocation development while pursuing his Master’s Degree in Theological Studies at ADMU.   “We say with different words the same thing we do… We strive to follow Christ to make Him more present in this world.  We both strive to form men and women for others in whose hearts Jesus lives forever.”

In each game that we play arrow and claw to win, let us not only celebrate the pride that comes with school spirit, but the achievement that comes with it as well. The next time we see our players on the court, let us not only see them merely as the archetypes of our pride but as the archetypes of our achievement: As a basketball team, as a school, as an institution, as a community.  Our achievements, both in and off the court, help us define each other.  And at the core of this definition, is the admiration and respect that we hold for one another.  After all, aren’t we each other’s opposite number?  What would Ateneo be without La Salle and La Salle be without Ateneo?  When our mythic rivalry remains steadfast to these principles, then we remain humble in victory as we are magnanimous in defeat.  But when neither of us are able to exercise humility or magnanimity, then neither of us are truly worthy to be called victors.  

It is this admiration and respect for both the Jesuits and Christian Brothers that has so artfully melded in the person of Tyrone Tang, a product of the Jesuit-run Xavier School, who found the fortitude and determination to propel a disheartened senior’s basketball team to the championships.  It was this admiration and respect that  prompted University of the East coach Dindo Pumaren to comment after DLSU won over UE in this season’s finals, “Ateneo brought out the best in La Salle”.  And it was this admiration and respect that made the La Salle bleachers go ballistic with cheers of “Go Ateneo!” when Chris Tiu was presented as part the Mythical Five for this UAAP basketball season.   It is when we celebrate the achievement of the human spirit – be blue or green – when we discover that we are all Ateneans.  And that we are all La Sallians.   

There has been some recent debate among the diehard La Salle fans that the Animo cheer belongs to our school.  Actually, I think that the “Animo” cheer is one that is shared by both schools.  Animo in Latin means “courageous, ardent, passionate and furious”.  And Animo in Latin also means “spirit”.  Is there any other way you can describe an Ateneo-La Salle game?  Our Animo fills the seats of Araneta Coliseum like no Sharon Cuneta concert can. 

Next season, I finally hope to watch an Ateneo-La Salle game.  Live even.  In the meantime, I’ll have the chance to grow a big enough set of balls.