I went up to the Barangay Plaza one night a couple of weeks ago to watch my brother-in-law’s (Jhun) basketball team play for the senior’s Championship.
They won and we were all proud of them.
The Barangay Kaptain sat me at a table with him courtside, and we joked and enjoyed the game. I asked my wife why I was being treated so special. She smiled and told me; “Because Mahal you are the team sponsor.” And it happened like this. They came knocking on the gate for donations a couple of months ago; my wife came in and asked me if it was alright to help out?
This usually meant a couple of hundred Pesos. Nay, not this time, because to date they had only collected eight hundred pesos toward the five thousand peso goal, she gave them the difference. Making me the team sponsor of the “Thompson Happy Together” Team by default; I had nothing to do with the picking of the name, or any knowledge that there was a team for that matter. (That kinda sounds like Agent Jim Phelps on “Mission Imposable”.)
Back to the game, I asked why they had no matching uniforms with the teams name on them. The response was “Not in Stock” at the tailor shop, but next week they’ll be ready. I’ll remind you that this was the championship game, meaning it was also the end of the season. The summer season would start in a few months. I just scratched my head, which I do a lot lately.
One week later, I’m back to the Barangay Plaza for our festival and basketball awards ceremonies. There is my team, standing tall and proud each with his trophy, but still no uniforms. The following day there is going to be a parade, with our senior’s team in the lead right behind the six piece marching band. Do I need to say it? Well I will, still no uniforms.
But here is the real question; “Does anyone really care?” No we really don’t, but, the following day the guys showed up to show me the uniforms, still in the box from the tailor shop, where they will remain until the start of the Summer League, it just does make sense now, doesn’t it?
When I say that you can’t make these stories up, I mean it with every fiber in my body. The cost to live here is quite reasonable, but the price to live here could well be your sanity, but never one’s sense of humor. I am at the point where I just don’t worry about it or anything anymore. In the grand scheme of life, I’ve learned to sweat the stuff you can control, and the rest is like water off a ducks butt, just let it happen.
I think I’ll buy a whistle to use during the Summer League Games.
If it was Baseball I’d play, better yet, Softball would be good at my age.