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The Final Score: Azkals aren’t gods. And that’s good.


Our eyes popped wide open upon seeing the crowd. Our ears quivered upon hearing the roar. As soon as images of Indonesia’s mammoth crowd flashed on television, all clad in wartime red, over 70,000 strong, we asked ourselves, “What kind of torturous mess did our boys get into?!" After Indonesia’s first and only goal, we suddenly wanted that squandered “home game" back. Going any further in the Suzuki Cup quickly felt like taking one more step up Mt. Everest after overachieving, inhaling ice and soil, for weeks. Our players saw the fireworks, heard the vuvuzelas, felt the ground move when Indonesia tallied the match’s only goal. It was a nasty welcome to the semis. But we’ll take it. Congratulations, our Azkals now have play-off experience. They faced Okto eyeball to eyeball. They jostled “El Loco" chest to chest. They lost one match but gained perspective. The Azkals’ performance gave Indonesia reason to still fret and handed us reason to still hope. I know it’s disappointing we didn’t win the first of two games. We want to believe the Azkals are omnipotent football gods. Take Neil Etheridge for example. He looks like he descended from Asgard, on earth to play goalkeeper, in a uniform to help the Philippines win. Yet no matter how many marriage proposals he has received in the past two weeks, he is still human. He commits mistakes, albeit just a handful. And like the rest of the Azkals, upon witnessing the horror of an opponent’s goal, he feels pain. Gods, on the other hand, are infallible. They are subject to neither stress nor blunder. But because gods are infallible, they don’t know how to fail. And because they don’t know how to fail, they totally miss the concept of bouncing back. They are gods, after all. Azkals are not. Indonesia didn’t embarrass our team. Far from it. Etheridge recovered from the initial fall and continued his brilliance against an offensive juggernaut. Okto Maniani attacked like he’s Cyrus Baguio on an isolation play. Christian Gonzales stalked like a madman on a mission. Yet Etheridge persisted even when an entire stadium wanted him to fold. I’m happy to report the Azkals aren’t divine. Hence, they can turn Thursday’s debacle into Sunday’s resurgence. The invincible have no idea what this means. It’s what spirited humans do. On Sunday, nothing will change. The Azkals will remain unwelcome guests. Indonesia will remain heavy favorites. The Younghusbands will exhale through their ears. Aly Borromeo will feel the chill of every breath. Anton Del Rosario will ignore all knees and elbows that go his way. Etheridge will keep watch. They will all compete. No matter how hard we wish, the Azkals won’t play like gods. They’re human; prone to error, doubt. But so is the opposition. Indonesian players aren’t immortals; never immune to pressure, hardly exempt from failure. So please don’t talk about moral victories just yet. Not when we’re so close. Even if Azkals aren’t gods, just like punk, the Azkals aren’t dead. -- GMANews.TV
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