
We, the television viewers for the ongoing Suzuki Cup, held our breath and counted the milliseconds. Indonesia’s Christian Gonzales was alone. He had the ball. He saw the target. He failed on his first attempt during a madcap sequence. Our gut told us he wouldn’t fail again. Just a hiccup from intermission, moments away from a scoreless first half, our Azkals saw the same thing, albeit from a more horrific vantage point. They held their breath too. As soon as Gonzales launched a screamer from 75 feet, where one needs a long-distance phone call to contact the goalkeeper, our hearts stopped. As soon as El Loco’s unimpeded, sweeping left hook started concurring with the physics of an impending goal, rationalization started. There were wants and there were needs. We wanted to see the Philippines reach the Finals and rewrite Southeast Asian football history books along the way. Yet all we needed was to a) see our Azkals compete at the highest level and b) observe how football gave us a genuine high. The ball, 35 feet from its target, continued to rocket on its murderous path. It was, for the honest football fan, a beautiful sight. Forget, just for this paragraph, allegiance to the Philippine flag. Don’t be afraid to admit it. We were awestruck while the ball was in mid-flight. It felt like watching the midway point of a Tom Brady touchdown pass, Rafael Nadal championship point, Allan Caidic three-point shot and Manny Pacquiao knock-out punch. We likewise felt the impending doom. The Azkals needed to blank Indonesia. Shut them down. We also needed to score two goals. Shoot them up. One goal by Indonesia would have the same effect as a debilitating 20-to-nothing run in the first half a championship basketball game. Our team couldn’t afford to let one happen. Yet we all watched a momentous shot unfold, in light speed through our eyes, in painful slow-motion with our minds. And we knew were going to feel something; pain if it swished in, elation if goalkeeper Neil Etheridge slapped it away like he has done a million times before. Are we over the indifference towards football? The sport hopes so. Transcending our biases against “the beautiful game", even against sports in general, is a start. Football isn’t boring. Filipinos care about their national teams. Fil-foreigners can have as much charisma as homegrown stars. National teams can spark major television events. I can’t guarantee a national football revolution. But I am certain the Azkals’ performance can lead to one. Gonzales scored. Our hearts sank. He needed to bend it like Beckham just to bend the Azkals’ miserly defense, for one brief yet tournament-altering moment. One glorious left-footed strike, a shot-of-the-tournament candidate, stung us like gushing soft-drinks through the nose. It was the transcendent moment, finding joy in grief. It took an opponent’s dream goal to author the Azkals’ legend. It took one stab of pain to convince non-football fans in the Philippines that they intensely, and perhaps finally, cared. --
GMANews.TV