Saturday, February 10, 2007
All in my mind was to be at the venue by one o’clock. It was a blessed Saturday that things had fallen into what I had planned for that day. I did not have anything to do as far as work was concerned since we had just finished the closing of books for the month of January so I could leave the office at exactly 12. Another bonus was the birthday blow-out thrown by my officemate which had saved me from spending for my lunch. It saved both my money and time.
I texted my friend that we would just meet at LRT – Taft and go together to RMSC. Thanks God, we were just in time. The game had not started yet. The Emcee had just introduced the players-something I missed. After making myself comfortable inside the cr, I proceeded to the grandstand.
While heading to the grandstand I met a tall guy, obviously one of the two who would play for the Philippines. How did I know? His outfit had spoken all for himself. I was not certain though who he was, but I was fast to consider that it was Cecil Mamiit. Yes it was Cecil, I told myself. I could not be mistaken. Those chinky eyes I saw in his various photos in the web would prove that it was Cecil. I am not a tennis enthusiast, that’s why I made sure to brief myself with a little background of the players lest absolute ignorance about the event would deprive me to enjoy the game. During the past few days I surfed the net about Davis Cup, Cecil Mamiit, and Eric Taino. My only objective why I allowed my feet to bring me to such competition was only to cheer for the country. I did the same thing during SEA games in 2005. I’ve realized that cheering for the country gives me a happy feeling aside from the enjoyment and the entertainment the sports provide. I told myself this time I would do it again. I should have called his name, I told myself after the guy I assumed to be Cecil had passed my way already.
My friend and I found a good spot in the grandstand. He sat at the upper portion while I was contented to just sit in the middle section. Then the players were called to be in the court signaling the start of the game. The game of that day was ‘double’, thus there were four players in the court, two in each side. The Pakistanis looked matured already. It must have been the beard on their faces. Looking at the Pakistan players made you think that in this game the Filipinos would be up against two Osama Bin Laden hahaha. Then I focused my attention to the Filipinos. There I saw standing tall was the guy I thought to be Cecil and the man at his back who was way shorter than him who I thought to be Eric. Hmmmm I told myself both of them looked alike. Both had chinky eyes. Anyway, I was sure that the taller one was Cecil. AS the game progressed, the crowd were starting to go gagah over the players particularly on the Filipinos. I noticed that the taller guy I thought to be Cecil was less cool than the shorter guy. I dunno, but I just could smell his ‘fear’. The short guy on the other hand, the one I believed to be Eric was simply cool.
I never thought watching tennis could be enjoyable and entertaining as this. The crowd was wonderful. Fans were shouting “I Love You Cecil”. Nonetheless, I still remained clueless who the heck they were referring to between the two players since they did not respond to the I love Yous- obviously so focused on the game making them deaf to whatever fans would say . I was still sure, however that the taller guy was Cecil.
The first round was over and it was 5-7 in favor of the Pakistanis. During the second round the one I believed to be Cecil kept on nodding to what the shorter guy had seemed to be telling him. In team sport like this, it’s very common to see players giving orders or instructions to each other. In their case however, the shorter guy appeared to be the ‘boss’. It made me think why on earth Cecil Mamiit tagged to be the country’s no. 1 tennis player kept on bowing to the instructions of Eric. Then it’s the Filipinos turn to serve. The shorter guy positioned himself to serve when the Emcee announced “Cecil Mamiit”. My golly, all the while I was a mistake hehehe. The reason why the shorter guy was playing cool and exuding so much confidence was because he was Cecil Mamiit and the one I met a while ago was Eric Taino. That explained why he nodded to Cecil’s instructions, because he was Eric Taino.
Enough with the who-the-hell-Cecil-Mamiit-is issue. Now I could focus on the game itself. The Pakistanis obviously did not come here to be beaten, thus making them exert so much effort to give their best. They scored. They missed. They scored again. Everytime they scored applause would be heard sporadically. Two Pakistanis at the Left grandstand; one Pakistani at our grandstand; about ten Pakistanis at the VIP section and another one Pakistani inside the court. Well that one inside the court was their coach, actually. If I were not mistaken with my calculation there were 14 Pakistanis who were always ready to give applause to their players. However, there were times that there would be 15 and the addition would be me. No, I’m not cheering for Pakistan, it’s just that sometimes I would be so overwhelmed by the game that I would accidentally cheer for the other team hehehe.
Side comments from the crowd were quite funny. You would hear ‘I LOVE YOU CECIL’ from a guy; ‘SUMOSOBRA KA NA’ thrown to Eric once he committed some misses. Eric lost to Pakistan the day before that’s why the fans were scared that he would do a repeat. That also justified why he appeared to be nervy compared to the confident Mamiit.
The fourth round ended and the Philippines won the game. Everybody was in jubilations. All the credits though were given to Cecil Mamiit. Poor Eric he was just in the sidelight, but he obviously agreed to it.
They were interviewed and the crowd was really happy. Cecil even danced to his favorite Pinoy Ako-Pinoy Tayo song. I hated myself for not bringing with me my camera. How I wish I had taken photos of the game.
When Cecil got out of the court and proceeded to the Tennis Office my friend shook hands with him and I, not to be just left at the side, touched his shirt imitating the act of the woman in the Bible who touched the cloak of Jesus believing that by touching the cloak she would become cured. I did exactly the same thing. By touching his shirt I would become….hmmmm….hmmmm…nothing…just nothing. There was nothing I could do to take as souvenir. I had no camera; nothing to be autographed on; nothing at all, except for the chance of touching the emerging tennis superstar of the Philippines. Well what I got was all sweat actually hahahaha.
The next day was Sunday and it’s going to be Championship day. I promised to attend the event and this time I would not fail to bring my digicam.
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