A DAY IN THE LIFE

"… Mitch’s last gig."

I sat frozen in disbelief for a few seconds when Vincent mentioned those words to the crowd at their Hard Rock gig last Saturday night. But then I realized that Vincent gave me a hint a few months ago that this was something inevitable.

Mitch Singson, Sugarfree’s drummer, is leaving the band.

Although I had to commute all the way from Laguna on a rainy night and spend more than my usual budget for a gimik night, I’m glad that I still decided to go to that gig (kinulit din kasi ako ni Ms. Torres). It was my first time to watch them in Manila (not counting the Dramachine album launch) and I never thought that it would also be my last time to watch the band with Mitch as their drummer. I also had the chance to hear a couple of their new songs which will be included in their new album that will come out in a few months. One of them, entitled "Reunion", was inspired by our high school batch’s 10th year anniversary reunion held last 2003 and is dedicated to our barkada. Vincent even shared to the audience what we usually tell him during our recent get-togethers, "Kay Panday may kanta ka pero sa barkada mo wala." Hahaha! Vincent also introduced me to his girlfriend, Paula, who was just sitting beside me. She’s very pretty and also a nice person. Vince, ibili mo na sya ng helmet! Hahaha! Kaka, the band’s new drummer, also played that night. Paula told me that he’s from a Cebu-based band called Pandora and mentioned that he’s also a very good drummer.

Mitch delivered his farewell speech in the middle of their set (Up dharma Down played earlier). It was such a sad moment. The band also played "Unang Araw" which was fit for a farewell song for Mitch with its sorrowful lyrics, "Ito ang unang araw na wala ka na." Actually, it was Mitch’s last Manila gig because they will still perform this month in Cebu. Since it was Mitch’s last gig here, picture-picture of course! I told Mitch that he resembled Ainah’s eldest brother kaya talagang dapat may picture sila, hehehe. After we had our picture taken, we high-fived and I wished him good luck. Between him and Jal, it’s usually Mitch to whom I’ve always had the chance to talk to (si Vincent lang naman ang hindi ko kinakausap sa kanila, hahaha). I remember in their MTV Homecoming performance here in Laguna last year, he told me that he just got back from a month-long leave from the band. I wanted to ask him the reason why he took a long break but I didn’t. It is because I am aware that he is also a father like me.

Here is an excerpt of Mitch’s post earlier this month in the band’s mailing list:

"Many will say… Why let the band go knowing na nasa taas ka na? Why leave if your’re in a position where you’re already able to enjoy the fruits of your hardwork? Bakit ka aalis eh ang dami mo nang isinakripisyo para maabot mo ang kinalalagyan mo ngayon?

Ito ang sagot ko… It is because of these sacrifices that I’ve made that I’ve realized that I have to go. To help Sugarfree to get to where the band is right now, my time with my family and friends have suffered a lot. And as most of you know, when I say family, this includes my son, and my son is my most dearest possession … Right now, I’m in a situation where I think my family and friends need my time and focus more."

I guess we all know that Mitch made the right decision. He had spent enough time rocking our world— it’s time for him to be with the ones who rock his.

Thanks for your tug-tug-paks. They will be missed. Good luck to you, pare. Kitakits!

Tuesday last week, we played our second basketball game in this year’s inter-organization sportsfest. Early in the first half as I was driving strong to the basket, an opponent stood in front of me and took the charge. Thud! He then tumbled across the court and the ref whistled and gestured that infamous offensive foul signal. I wanted to complain about the call but I felt this pang in my chest a few seconds after the collision. The following morning, the pain worsen, my right chest was tender and I found it so damn difficult to move my body without grimacing. The area ached everytime I coughed and laughed. I also had trouble breathing these past few days but I thought they just might be my usual panic anxiety attacks. After more than a week (of pain, discomfort and scary mental images), I finally decided to go to the doctor yesterday.

I went back to the doctor this morning for my chest x-ray results. I stared at the doctor’s face while he was examining my x-ray. I waited anxiously for him to tell me the bad news— that it was a fractured rib, that I would have to rest for two months without any strenuous activity and I could be put in a cast depending on the severity of the injury.

The doctor looked at me and said that it was just a bruised rib. I breathed a sigh of relief (the kind of relief you get after seeing that blue minus sign in the pregnancy test kit of your girlfriend).

In the past four years, I had my shoulder scraped, my fingers jammed, my ankle sprained and my wrist fractured— all from playing basketball. Old age? Maybe. I hear my own voice whispering the word "retirement" behind my ear. I can no longer play the way I used to. I’ve also had enough of injuries. Especially that of not winning a championship since I started playing in this tournament ten years ago. Yes, that kind of an injury will heal in time. But the pain will never go away.

Time flies. Actually, it soars.

Almost two months have passed since my last entry. It seemed that I took a breather, sat on a couch and watched the world pass me by…

Miami Heat bagging its first ever NBA championship.  My son turning nine. Kuya realizing his dream of becoming a successful photographer (some of his beautiful photos were featured in an article in GMA Pinoy TV and he was recently asked to be the production designer for a short film in NYC). Powerhouse Brazil getting eliminated and Italy winning its fourth World Cup title. Our youngest brother getting married. The passing away of a dear family friend and just yesterday, of another high school teacher.

I convinced myself that the world will move on without me.

Then I saw the couch.

Last Saturday my son finished his first ever basketball training. I really wanted him to learn the basics in the most effective way before I teach him everything I know about the game. And I do believe that the best place to learn the fundamentals is at the MILO BEST Center. He completed his Level 1 training (which lasted six days) and I was happy with the results. Seeing him dribble the ball properly for the first time made me proud but watching him do the spider dribble was amazing. My son is also proud of his newly-acquired skills because he told me that he also wanted to learn and play my sport. His mom plays (and coaches) football and she enrolled him in a football school at the age of six that is why I didn’t teach him basketball earlier. Well, now that he’s learning the game, I hope that this will be the start of his basketball career.

A few months ago he told me that he will be the first Filipino NBA player and that he will give me courtside tickets for his first game. Man, that would be one memorable event. But for now, our garage is his playing court. Like what the Milo ad jingle says, great things start from small beginnings.

It was also last Saturday when my youngest brother had his pamamanhikan. The idea that he’s getting married a couple of months from now is somehow surreal to me. Definitely a weird coincidence… Fourteen years ago this month, I accompanied him to the graduation ceremony of the Philips Sardines Basketball Clinic (under the respected former national team coach Joe Lipa) where he received his first basketball training…

And now, he will be playing an entirely different ballgame.

"Tay, paano mo nalaman na ikaw ang tatay ko?"

Kids are expected to give the usual "paano ninyo ako ginawa" straight jab, that is why I was caught offguard by that unorthodox uppercut my son gave me last Monday— and a berserker barrage of questions followed. All this time I thought that I was prepared for that much awaited conversation with my son about the birds and the bees. Unfortunately, the words that came out didn’t seem to make any sense and my attempt to answer his questions went kerplunk. So I told him that I would answer his questions and explain everything after two days. I guess that’s enough time to prepare my materials (and to brace myself) for my son’s first day in Sex Education 101.

This morning I googled for sex education and how to properly present it to a child. I also took notes of what psychologists and child experts had to say about the do’s and dont’s in discussing the subject. Surfing the web as if my mouse was guided by providence, I stumbled upon The Hormone Factory. Eureka! It was exactly what I was looking for. The website is made especially for those curious ten to twelve year olds. Although my son is just turning nine next month, I believe he’s smart and mature enough to understand it. Besides, drastic times call for drastic measures.

I was still a bit nervous at first but with the help of The Hormone Factory (and some drawings that I made), I gradually felt relaxed and comfortable discussing sex education to my son. The interactive website is so cool even parents will enjoy browsing it (and wish they had Internet access during their childhood). It covers various topics like anatomy, puberty, pregnancy, sex and many more. There’s even a section on bullying. I still had to further (and carefully) explain a lot of things to him but at least it wasn’t as brain-wracking and as awkward as before.

At the end of our discussion, I asked my son if he understood everything that he learned today and if he still has anything to ask. In an assuring voice, he said he understood and that he has no more questions. I was relieved but I also became afraid. Why? Because I, too, was once a raging hormone factory.

Writing does not cause misery. It is born of misery. - Michel de Montaigne

I never had the chance to write an entry last April. Burnt out? Maybe. Today I am going to write and release. I want to keep my sanity so I can go insane again.

These past few days, my son and I were excited and all about his upcoming football tournament at Ateneo. It will be his second time to play there. They placed third in their category two years ago. I told him that I believe that they can win the championhsip this time.

The said tournament was scheduled for tomorrow, or so I thought. For days, I’ve been asking the other parental unit of my son what time the tournament will start so I can plan my departure from LB. It said that it will just inform me ASAP. This morning I texted it again and asked the same question. It’s reply: The tournament will start at 10am TODAY.

What the f**k?! I asked why I wasn’t informed. It said that it was only notified about the change in schedule at the last minute (I assume that was yesterday). F**k! That’s the lamest and sorriest excuse I’ve ever heard. My mother asked me if I can be here at the shop today for some important matters. I said yes because tomorrow I’ll be watching my son play and kick some coñio ass. But no! It was my ass that was played on. What pisses me off more is that this is not the first time that I wasn’t informed (or was misinformed) about my son’s football game. Once again, I never got to see my son play.

I don’t write these things to get sympathy or whatever. That’s the least that I want. All I want is respect. If you can’t respect me as a human being, at least respect me as the father of my son. That’s all I am so don’t you ever fu**ing take that away from me. I can be disrespectful too you know.

Enough of this. I’m sick and tired of this shit. I’m also sick and tired of using the asterisk key. Fuck.

I’m ready to have another miserable day.

The perfect time to catch a cold is when you’re not looking and when you’re not wearing any gloves…

It was my son’s school recognition ceremony this morning and I was sniffing and sneezing the whole time… Aaargh! I don’t think I can continue this entry.

Just when the semester is about to end, I catch a cold. Just when I’m starting to blog again after almost a month, stubborn customers double. I know that I shouldn’t be complaining since the customer is always blah-blah-blah and the customer is the blah-blah-blah. But hey! Give me a frigging break! I’m here all alone and I have a cold. I don’t think you’ll like it if you’re in my shoes.

This was supposed to be a feel-good-welcome-back-after-one-stressful-month entry. Damn. That’s it. I’ve had enough. I’m taking the day off.

Last night, lightning didn’t struck the same place twice. But we were struck by a different lightning…

Upon arriving at the gym we noticed that aside from the opposing team in our supposed championship game, last year’s defending champions were also there (in playing attire) and we were all wondering why. Wait. The tournament host informed us yesterday afternoon that the defending champs, who were no. 2 in the standings, were disqualified from the chamionship game because they haven’t paid the registration fee (yesterday was their deadline) and that gave our team the right to play in the finals. But then the defending champs protested saying that they were not informed about the payment deadline and so on and blah, blah, blah. Come on, it was the last game of the tournament and you haven’t even paid the registration fee? Shame on you.

Our team also wanted to raise an issue earlier this week. Although it was stated in the tournament rules that the top four teams will play crossover games that will determine who will play in the finals, it didn’t happen. The host said that there won’t be any semi-final games and the top two teams will automatically play for the championship. Their reason: holding semi-final games will extend the tournament but the last day for holding student activities is today. We were the no. 3 team and we never protested even though we had a chance of making it to the finals.

To settle last night’s issue, the host (who told us that they were really pissed off by the other team’s protest) decided to arrange a game between our team and the protesting team wherein the winner will meet the no. 1 team in the championship game afterwards.

We lost by three heartbreaking points and failed to enter the finals. It was a well-fought game but a loss is a loss.

My shoes were almost torn open last night. A few more runs up and down the court would have revealed my black-socked left toes.

I need a new pair of basketball shoes and I’m damn sure there are no championships sold at eBay.

The UPLB Goma Cup 2006 (that’s the Triskelion Cup Inter-Fraternity Basketball Tournament, hehehe) championship game will be played at 7pm tonight. We will go head to head against last year’s Goma Cup runner-up who incidentally is the only team that has a clean slate this year and the same team who beat us by one point a few weeks ago.

My two-year old basketball shoes are already worn out and I believe that this is the game where I will wear them for the very last time. The closest that my shoes ever got in winning a championship was two years ago in a different tournament where my org lost by one point. Man, I can still remember… the game clock was down to thirty seconds and we were leading by a point. It was a won ballgame and we lost.

Yes, lightning does strike twice.

Not tonight.

Shop. Feb Fair. Soc’s Alumni Homecoming. Alumni meeting/party.

Windang. Pagod. Lasheng. Puyat.

Damn. When was the last time I jogged? I woke up before 6am today for a morning walk but I realized that I’d rather go back to sleep for a much needed rest.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh…