Not Your Average Game

I was raised in a village where the game of basketball was more than a sport. It is a way of life. There would be no day that passed without anybody shooting hoops. From seniors to mosquitoes, basketball leagues became a tradition. And more than just friendly games, players suffer cuts and bruises just for a win. In B.I.R. Village, Fairview, basketball is a religion.

But nobody went to college basketball there. I don’t know anyone who made it on a live telecast of the UAAP. We have plenty of has-beens though. These are the greatest players who never were. Stories of legendary battles with now PBA stars are plenty. Rivalries from the rest of Fairview are classic tales as they are being told, with the swagger of alcohol, on a daily basis. Oh how the people here loved their beer and barbeque. Probably why nobody made it to the next level.

There is fighting all the time. Visiting teams never left the court without being mauled. And between friends, a lot of fighting too. Slug fests were a common sight. I had my share of bouts. My style was to use my fists first, but when I know I have no chance of hitting that bigger guy, I rush for wood and have a go at his shin.

Winning is everything. With winning comes respect. Normally, respect comes from being a sportsman. Not in here. No matter how good your game is, as long you didn’t win, you get no respect. And sometimes even if you do win, people will hate you. Respect needs to be earned. But the players you’ll encounter were trained to be unforgiving. So good luck.

After 12 years, my family moved to a city where everything is near. I still come back to Fairview to play though. And only after 12 years did I win a basketball championship. Back to back championships to be exact. Only then did I feel a sense of achievement in the sport I grew to love. People talk about me all the time. The mosquitoes high five me like I’m a hero or something. The has beens hug me after a game and open bottles for me. Cheers all around. Respect? No, I just happened to be winning.

Tonight I’ll be playing in a do or die game versus a team full of childhood friends. We haven’t gotten to a brawl, yet. The whole village will be watching. If my teams wins, we advance to the playoffs. If we lose, I can kiss my three-peat dreams goodbye. Actually, I don’t give a damn about it. I don’t live there anymore. But true to the heritage, it is all about winning. Tonight, I defend my tradition.

New Theme, Again

I know I know. And you know what, after countless changes, I still suck at CSS! =p

Seafoam Green – My First Holga Roll

Finally my first set of Holga films were developed via Digiprint. It took them 2 days of processing whereas Fuji stores have 1 hour developing (for a higher price that is). Nevertheless, the photos were already converted as JPEG files and they came in a disc. All good in the name of convenience.

Sky and Sea – Seafoam Green

Wow. For a first roll, the pictures turned out alright. I thought I exposed all the films when I was loading them. Honestly I didn’t know what I was doing. Good thing I read SquareFrog’s online tutorial. It probably saved me from grand theft exposure. Check out my Flickr account.

Now I’m addicted to lomography and my Holga 120Gn like a junkie to his crack pipe. First thing this payday, imma grab ‘em films like Lamar Odom rebounds. Go Lakers! And oh, surfing this June!

Hang Loose

A surfer will be wiped out, dragged underwater and hurled by heavy hitting waves time and time again. After this, he has to grab his floating board and paddle back to the lineup to do it again. Easier said than done, surfing is a hard test of endurance. But as soon as he catches that perfect wave, never mind the ache. It is bliss all over.

So last week I got to ride not so perfect waves – but just enough to actually see myself moving one with the board. Also, I was able to experience what’s storm signal #3 feels like when your docked at seaside. Images of the tsunami at Sri Lanka began to conjure. Good thing that when you have Gran Matador, disastrous winds suddenly feel like just the breeze of your normal jeepney ride. Hik.

I want a board and I want it now! I’ve been eyeing this yellow longboard posted on the Surf Forum and I can’t wait to break the hell out of it. I need to get back in the water!

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Rainy Days

While we all clutch our hoodies as we cross the streets we regularly do, the south shores of the north are lashing out tidal 8 foot waves. So I asked myself, why don’t I pack my remaining dry clothes and head out for some ocean love. Well, I filed a vacation leave already, so I think I’m all set. Plus, I contacted Jennie Castillo to hook me up with a Holga 120GN. Hopefully I’ll be getting it this afternoon. Me and my surf buddies will be leaving at dawn tomorrow and I can’t wait to snap great lomo shots.

Have you ever got that certain feeling every time the rain falls and all you get to do is stop and stare? There’s this mystic spell to it. Sights and sounds have a somber ambient. It makes me feel happy. Really.

Oh sh*t, I have to first pick up the camera at Glorietta at 6pm. That means I’ll only be taking the best way to get there. The MRT. Last time I was inside the trains it was heavily raining – and it was hell in a box. I still haven’t packed yet. My boardshorts are all dirty and the only dry clothes I have are worn-out shirts I wore back in college. They now can pass as baby tees.

Both blessing and a curse, either way, we all gonna get it. Rain falls just outside my window here… but I’m gonna travel in need of some more. Nature at its best, I’m chasing these rainy days.

“Turn me loose, turn me loose.. for the rain has fallen“

– Kaya, Bob Marley