Month: April 2010

Despite the blunder, MVP is still the MVP

Manny V. Pangilinan is MVP. He’s the Most Valuable Pinoy. For few people, in business, in sports, in philanthropy, have done more for our nation than MVP.

Yet, for all the man’s successes, he is fallible. MVP made a mistake. A shameful and embarrassing one when, last March 27, he delivered the commencement address at the Ateneo.

MVP’s bungle? He plagiarized. Quoting paragraphs from Oprah Winfrey, Barack Obama, J.K. Rowling and Conan O’Brien, he failed to acknowledge the authors. Days after, Facebook users exposed the flaw and MVP resigned as chairman of the board of Ateneo.

Ouch. Has MVP become the Most Vilified Person? Has my admiration for him diminished? No, no. For here’s what MVP did: He acted. As soon as he uncovered the fault, he apologized. He quit as ADMU chairman. How many of our leader-politicians, I ask, given the same circumstances, are willing to resign? When humiliated, when mistaken, when the verdict is obvious that a blunder was made—how many of our leaders are willing to say sorry?

Few. That’s because many are “bagang-nawong.” Not MVP. He displayed a trait we often heard during sermons last week: Humility.

“He is truly a man of principles, dignity, integrity and humility… a true MVP,” wrote Me-anne Alcordo Solomon, in Facebook. “What happened could happen to anyone of his stature where considering his busy schedule, had the speech made by a ghostwriter and yet MVP takes full responsibility. In my book, MVP will always be the MVP and the incident doesn’t diminish my respect for him. I was doubly blessed that day seeing my son among the graduates and hearing MVP speak. He spoke true to his last words ‘that like the tadpole, he dropped his tail and jumped out of the swamp.’”

My hope? Not that the Ateneo board will decline his resignation—for MVP himself, I’m sure, given the embarrassment, will insist on being “out.” My hope is that all of us, from ordinary folks to top executives, will learn from MVP’s behavior.

He did not hide. He did not delay. He did not rationalize. He did not even lay the blame on his speechwriter (whom I can only describe as… tanga). Like a true leader who knows “command responsibility,” he accepted his fault and said sorry.

The speech itself? Even deleting the “copy-pasted” words, it was funny and insightful. The most important lesson of the 1,892-worded speech—ironically—was on failure.

“On this wonderful day when you stand on the threshold of what is called real life, it is – ironically – the best time to talk about failure,” he said. “Nobody‘s life is seamless or smooth. We all stumble. We all have setbacks. If things go wrong, you hit a dead end – as you will, many times in your life – it‘s just life‘s way of saying – time to change course. Now I cannot tell you that failure is fun. Periods of failure in my life were dark ones. I’ve had a lot of success. But I’ve had a lot of failures. I’ve looked good. I’ve looked bad. I’ve been praised and criticized. And it hurt like hell. But my mistakes have been necessary. I had no idea how far the tunnel of failure extended. And any light at the end of it seemed more hope than reality…

“The knowledge that you have emerged wiser and stronger from setbacks means that you can be secure in your ability to survive. You will never truly know yourself, or the strength of your relationships, until both have been tested by adversity. And so rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life, my career and, most importantly, my moral values. So graduates, always remember this – success is never final. Failure is never fatal. It is courage that counts.”

Sports? “Don’t forget that you have a body under your toga,” he said. “Take good care of it. Engage in sports. It‘s fun, and it is a laboratory for victory and adversity. How an athlete celebrates his triumphs, or overcomes defeat or injury, how he deals with a hostile crowd or a critical media, reflects what life is all about. Indeed, sports offers a richness all its own – it is a metaphor for life.”

Manny V. Pangilian Commencement Address

School of Humanities & School of Social Sciences?Ateneo de Manila University, Quezon City? 4:00 p.m., Saturday, 27th March 2010

Magandang hapon sa inyong lahat. I want to thank Father Ben and the Ateneo community for the honor of this doctorate degree. And congratulations to our Law School for having 7 of the 11 – ten topnotchers – in the recent bar exams!

Father Nebres, Father Magadia, trustees, faculty and staff, parents and siblings, graduates of 2010 – many congratulations. Thank you so much for this gift of fellowship with the sesquicentennial class. You‘ve earned your diploma from a great learning institution, and you have every right to be proud. I have wracked my mind and heart with what I should say today. The weeks of fear and worry at the thought of giving this commencement address have made me lose weight, and sleep. And I‘ve asked myself, what I wish I had known at my own graduation day 44 years ago.

The sad truth is that I don‘t even remember who the speaker was at my graduation, or a single word that was said. So I begin these remarks with the expectation that I will soon be forgotten. I‘ve been cautioned that on an occasion as this, graduates are only thinking one of the following thoughts: one – I hope these ceremonies finish soon because I can‘t wait to take my vacation. Two – inspire me please. There aren‘t too many doing that these days. Three – If MVP stops talking before I stop listening, I‘ll give him a big applause. Four –If you hand out free tickets to the Justin Timberlake concert tonight, we‘d give you a standing ovation. Yes, I’m happy to say that Smart will be giving away four free tickets right after this ceremony! Now that you‘ve been sufficiently humored and bribed, let me earn my honorary degree, and turn thoughtful and traditional. More to do, more to achieve I come here today with the thought that despite what may seem to be the culmination of a successful life with this honorary degree, there‘s still much to do. I come to say that one‘s title, even an honor like this, says little about how well one‘s life has been led –that no matter how much you‘ve done, or how successful you‘ve been, there‘s always more to learn, more to do, more to accomplish. So I want to say to all of you, that despite your remarkable achievement, you too cannot rest on your laurels.

Some graduating classes in the past have marched into this place in times of peace and progress. In those easy times, we could have called on you to keep things merely going, and not screw things up. But we‘re gathered here at a time of trial and transition, not only for this country but also for the world. Our economy slowed down last year because of a global recession – the result, in part, of greed and irresponsibility that rippled out from Wall Street. We continue to spend beyond our means. We avoid making the tough, unpopular choices. And in 44 days, we will elect a new set of national and local leaders. For all of you, these challenges are felt now in more immediate and personal terms. You will soon be looking for a job – struggling to figure out which career makes sense in this economy of ours. Maybe you have loans, and are worried how you‘ll pay them down. Maybe you‘ve got a family to help. Maybe you‘re asking how your siblings can have an Ateneo education like you had. Against these issues, you may be tempted to fall back on the more visible markers of success — by chasing the usual brass rings. How much money you make, a fancy title or a nice car. Being on the roster of the ?rich and famous (or the ?most invited) guest list. But the choice of form over substance, fame over character, short-term gain over long-term goal is precisely what your generation needs to end.

Defining success
Coming from the Ateneo, I know that the pressure to succeed is immense. In fact, your biggest liability is the need to succeed. And your biggest fear must be the fear of failure. But first, let me define what success is. Let me tell you, money‘s pretty cool. I‘m not going to stand here and tell you that‘s it‘s not about money, because money is sweet. I like money. It‘s good for buying companies and things – and for putting up a few buildings here and there for Ateneo. But having a lot of money does not totally make you a successful person. What you want is both money and meaning. You want your life and your career to be meaningful. Because meaning is what brings real richness to your life, to be surrounded by people you can truly work with – because you trust and treasure them, and they cherish you in return. That‘s when you‘re really rich, that‘s when you really succeed.

Fear of failure
Let me now deal with failure. On this wonderful day when you stand on the threshold of what is called ?real life, it is – ironically – the best time to talk about failure. Nobody‘s life is seamless or smooth. We all stumble. We all have setbacks. If things go wrong, you hit a dead end – as you will, many times in your life – it‘s just life‘s way of saying – time to change course. Now I cannot tell you that failure is fun. Periods of failure in my life were dark ones. I‘ve had a lot of success. But I‘ve had a lot of failures. I‘ve looked good. I‘ve looked bad. I‘ve been praised and criticized. And it hurt like hell. But my mistakes have been necessary. I had no idea how far the tunnel of failure extended. And any light at the end of it seemed more hope than reality.

Now let me tell you about some of my biggest failures.
In 1995, first pacific invested in telecommunications in India at a time when the industry there was just getting started. Under the laws of India, foreign investors are allowed to own not more than 49% of a local telco. So we invited an Indian partner to hold the 51% majority. You all know how capital intensive the telco business is. To our utmost regret, our partner could not provide the counterpart capital. The relationship soured, and we had to sell the business. Since then, India‘s telecoms industry has grown exponentially. So we lost significant value by divesting. If we had managed to retain this business, I would not need to make a living giving graduation speeches. But I have had personal failures as well.
I will now let you in on a well-kept secret. I was in 4th year high school in San Beda College, and was in contention to be valedictorian that year. It was an open secret that majority of my classmates were cheating –changing answers from true to false, ironically, in our religion exams. I felt I had to do the same to protect my grades. Several of us were caught – pero ako ang pinag-initan. I knew I was wrong, and deserved to be punished. Indeed, San Beda stripped me of all my honors. Finally, with the suspicion about rampant cheating, I was asked by the principal to name names. I refused. I disappointed my parents deeply. It took many years for the pain and bitterness to heal. Several years ago, I thought it was time to free myself from the rancor and memory of that experience. What better proof of reconciliation with San Beda than the 3 NCAA championships for the Red Lions?

Failure taught me lessons about myself that I could have learned no other way. I discovered that I had a strong will, and more discipline than I had imagined: I also found out that I had parents whose value was truly priceless. The knowledge that you have emerged wiser and stronger from setbacks means that you can be secure in your ability to survive. You will never truly know yourself, or the strength of your relationships, until both have been tested by adversity. And so rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life, my career and, most importantly, my moral values. So graduates, always remember this – success is never final. Failure is never fatal. It is courage that counts. MVP‘s lessons for life as I come near the end of my remarks, let me wrap up with some old-fashioned, feel-good graduation advice:

First, hug and kiss those who helped get you to this day – parents, grandparents, friends, teachers. If you’re too shy or uptight to do that, please do the old fashioned handshake thing. But I recommend a hug and a kiss. Don’t let the sun go down today without saying thank you to someone.

Second, don’t forget that you have a body under your toga. Take good care of it. Engage in sports. It‘s fun, and it is a laboratory for victory and adversity. How an athlete celebrates his triumphs, or overcomes defeat or injury, how he deals with a hostile crowd or a critical media, reflects what life is all about. Indeed, sports offers a richness all its own – it is a metaphor for life.

Third, remember you have brains under that mortarboard. You‘ve been running it like crazy for four years, whining about all the books you’ve had to read, the papers you’ve had to write, the tests you’ve had to take. Yet thanks to that versatile, gigabyte hard-drive of yours, and a million Starbucks cups, you made it today.

Fourth, give one peso for every ten you earn. I saw my mother pass away 8 years ago, and she left this world without anything. Which means you’re not the owner of what you think you own – you’re only a steward, because everything‘s on loan. So pass some of it on. If you don’t, government will just take it anyway.

Conclusion
As today‘s door closes softly between us, those are my parting words. But there will be other partings and other last words in your lives. But today will not be complete without acknowledging what Father Ben has done for the Ateneo these past 17 years as the university‘s longest serving president – the new Loyola Schools, all the new buildings, the UAAP championships and the bonfires. It has been a pleasure working with him. Thank you so much Father Ben.

I do have one last word for you, if I may. This was a gift when I graduated at the age of 19 – the gift of friends with whom I sat on graduation day, who remain my friends for life. So today, I wish you nothing better than similar friendships. And tomorrow, I hope that even if you remember not a single word of mine, you will recall those of Seneca, one of the old Romans i met in search of ancient wisdom: ?as is a tale, so is life: not how long it is, but how good it is, is what matters. I will now let you go. Through God‘s providence, may each of you travel well that precious journey called life. And may your future be worthy of your dreams. My deepest thanks for the courtesy and honor you all have shared with me. Many congratulations. God bless you all. Good day and good life.

In life and tennis, Monsignor Dakay serves well

Yesterday was a momentous occasion in the life of a momentous person. Fifty years ago yesterday, on Tres De Abril, 1960, God’s favored spokesman became a priest. “It happened on the fifth Sunday of Lent,” said Monsignor Achilles Dakay, “and, to my recollection, there has never been a ‘fifth Sunday of Lent’ in the past 50 years.”

Yes, 50 years. That’s 18,250 days. Consider that it in April 1960, the Sinulog Festival had not yet started, our president was Carlos P. Garcia, and the top-grossing Hollywood movie was Ocean’s Eleven starring Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin and Sammy Davis, Jr.

Today, Monsignor Dakay is the official spokesman of His Eminence, Ricardo Cardinal Vidal. He has the title, Media Liaison Officer. And while the media interview our highly articulate Monsignor almost weekly on matters of the Cebu Archidiocese, what the public may not know about him is that he’s a sports buff.

“I love the LA Lakers,” he told me two nights ago when I phoned him. “My sister lives in Los Angeles and, one time, I watched Shaq and Kobe.”

But the sport Monsignor enjoys the most? Tennis. “It all started when I was in the Seminary at the UST (University of Sto. Tomas) in 1955,” he said. “Our sports director then loved sports. And so, right across the street, we’d have these top Cebuano players like Saberon, Tancinco, Nap Flores and Manulat visiting and playing basketball.

“Then, during my seven years stay at UST, that’s where I first learned tennis. It was Johnny Jose, the top Filipino player, who taught us tennis on the UST cement court.”

That year was 1955—or 55 years ago. “Since then,” he said, “I have been playing everyday.” Everyday? “Well,” he answered, laughing, “every sunny day.”

Because Monsignor Dakay resides at the Archbishop’s Palace, his favorite choice of play is the one nearest: the Casino Español de Cebu. “I’m part of the first four who play,” he said, starting their doubles encounter at 4 p.m. “Roy Gopuco, Bob Go, Alfonso Tan, Doming Garcia, Donald Ruiz, Kits Borromeo, Ann Cuenco, Heide Mesina—these are the people I play with.”

Msgr. Dakay (2nd left) with Ponsoy Tan, Roy Gopuco and Bob Go

How impassioned a player is Msgr. Dakay? In a trip to Rome five years ago, instead of squeezing every extra minute to sight-see, like we all would, he told me, “I stayed at the Colegio Filipino where all the Filipino priests and students stayed.. and, of course, we played tennis everyday at their in-house court!”

That’s not all. Because if you think playing tennis in Rome is special, how about this: Monsignor Dakay has been to the mecca of tennis, Wimbledon. “Two times,” he said. “The first was in 1999 with Monsignor Eliseo Gamallo. We saw Lindsay Davenport beat Steffi Graf to win the trophy.”

His next trip to London was in 2003 when, he said “the Williams sisters met in the finals.” And, while admitting what we already know—“that there’s no place on earth like Wimbledon”—Monsignor offered a tip to anyone salivating to visit Wimbledon: “You’ve got to try those strawberries and cream!”

How about the US Open in New York? Sure. “I’ve also been there twice, the latest one several years ago when I met up with a few Cebuanos.”

The Italian Open? “That’s another one I’ve watched,” he said. “I’m very fortunate because three times in the past, I accompanied Cardinal Vidal to visit Rome and the Italian Open would be timed during this visit.”

His favorite player of all time? Bjorn Borg. Maybe because, as I’ve watched Monsignor play countless times at the Casino Español, his strength—his forehand topspin—is just like the Swede’s powerful spinning shot. “I’ve always been a Borg fan,” he said. “But now, seeing Nadal, with the emotions and passion he brings to the court, and not the type who plays like a machine, I cheer for him.”

Finally, as our conversation ended last Friday night—a Good Friday—I asked for his final “tips.”

“He who does not hope to win has already lost,” he recited in his familiar deep-sounding voice and perfect English. Then, he added one more… “Life is like tennis. He who serves well, seldom loses.”

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Categorized as Tennis

Bro. Carlo Bacalla and the Bataan Death March

Bro. Carlo with Haide Acuña

If you think running 42,195 meters to complete a marathon is ridiculous, meet Bro. Carlo Bacalla. He’s no ordinary marathoner. He’s an ultra-marathoner. And, last March 7, he joined a race that’s the farthest in distance: the Bataan Death March (BDM).     How far? One hundred two kilometers.

Crazy? Yes. Because Bro. Carlo is crazy for sports. In our recent back-and-forth email interview, he admitted, “Someone said ‘It takes an idiot to run a marathon but it takes a special kind of idiot to run an ultra-marathon!’”

Training director of the Don Bosco Training Center for out-of-school-youth in Pasil (among his myriad of jobs)–that’s Bro. Carlo’s profession. His passion: running.

At the BDM 102K race that spanned from Mariveles, Bataan to San Fernando, Pampanga, a total of 142 registered (including Haide Acuña). In the end, only 104 finished. Bro. Carlo? Did he make it? No. I mean, No, he didn’t just make the cut… he finished 17th place! An outstanding achievement (clocking 14 hours and 38 minutes) for one who’s 47 years old. He has completed nine marathons–plus the Ironman race last August in Camarines Sur. Why run 102 kms.? Only the most hard-core of men who can absorb pain, even relish it, attempt the distance. And that’s Brother.
Here’s my full-length interview with Bro. Carlo…

1. When did you start running?

When we were kids I remember joining “poste-poste” races in our neighborhood. We would bet on empty cigarette cases that we would fold like peso bills. It was our past time then. My first official run was in 1986 in the 10 k freedom run at EDSA. I run my first full marathon when I was a student of theology in Paranaque in 1988. I recall that when I took permission from my rector, his answer was: “Ok you run as long as you don’t sleep in class”.

2. How many marathons have you done? What’s your best time?

I did my first full marathon in 1988 in the “Pilipinas Marathon” the second was the “PAL Marathon”. I did 3 runs in the former and 4 in the latter. I had to stop running when I volunteered to work as a missionary in Africa and worked for 13 years there. The QCIM was my 8th marathon after 17 years of absence. The Condura Run last Feb. 7 was my 9th. My best time was 3:45 in the Pilipinas Marathon.

3. Why run 102 kms?

I had no idea about the BDM 102 until January 15 of this year when I was browsing for ultramarathons in the internet. I was interested in the “Famous Comrades” of South Africa but was informed that registration was long closed. Then I came across TNF and BDM. I didn’t like the former because it was a trail run but the latter was closed too since Jan. 6. I wrote a comment to the organizers of BDM and begged that I be allowed to join. On Jan. 18 I got the approval from bald runner and so the serious training of less than 2 months began. The race covers a distance of 102 km from Mariveles, Bataan to San Fernando, Pampanga.

Reason for running? 1. I like challenges and BDM provided one. 2. To pay tribute to the heroes of Bataan, 3. To test my mental and physical limits. 4. To have more photos for Faacebook, hahaha.

Someone said that “It takes an idiot to run a marathon but it takes a special kind of idiot to run an ultramarathon.”

4. Describe your entire BDM experience.

After reading so much about ultra running, I drafted my own 7-week training program. With barely two months to prepare, I did what I had to do: run, run, run, climb, climb, climb, drink, drink, drink, pee, pee, pee. The Condura Run was my test to determine my fitness for the BDM. I set a goal of 12 hours. I climbed to tops trice, run from Pasil to Cordova and back twice, and did night and mid-day runs 5 times. I did my longest run of 80 km 2 Sundays before the race. After doing my last 2 short runs during the race week, I felt confident I can hit my target.

The route was completely unknown to me. Fortunately, a priest-colleague from Don Bosco Pampanga volunteered to drive me and we did an ocular check before race day. It helped me gain more confidence. I had everything ready by noon of March 6.  After briefing my support crew, I took dinner and droved to Mariveles, Bataan and met Haide for our planned photo session at km 00.

The atmosphere was festive despite the poorly lighted starting area. After taking photos, I had a chat with Haide while waiting for the race briefing. We encouraged each other and agreed to meet at the finish line. The starting gun was fired at 11:30 pm. I made the sign of the cross and took the road.

My plan was to divide the distance to 3 the first 42 km in 5 hours, same with the second 42 km, and the final 18 km in 2 hours. But I had to make adjustments in the first part due to the many climbs. Part of the strategy was to run-walk in some stiff climbs. Practically, the second half of the route was flat but due to the heat which reached 41 deg Celsius at noon time, I had to slow down. I instructed my support crew to leap frog every 2 km in the first 6 hours and at every 1.5 km thereafter. I took my drinks and replenishments in those stops.

At 10 am due to extreme heat, we had to change strategy and had my support vehicle stop at every 1 km until km 102. There were times when I was tempted to race with the other runners, to go fast at the early part of the race, or to run the uphills. Those were moments of tests and learnings.

Right from the start I was confident I will finish the run but I didn’t expect to be in the 17th place. At the end I would attribute ninety percent of the success to my support crew. It would have been impossible to do it without a good support team to provide water and replenishments. We had our support vehicle stuffed with 12 bottles of Gatorade and mineral water, biscuits, power gels, bananas, pandesal, sliced bread, first aid and 2 extra gallons of water.

If I counted right, I think I urinated 15 times throughout the entire distance, an indication that I hydrated myself well. I did something unusual at every kilometer post: I prayed to the holy souls of those who died during the death march to help me reach km 102. I crossed the finish line pouring the last drop of water on my head and flashing the v-sign. It was fun with countless lessons.

5. Will you do it again?

Definitely, I will join the BDM next year. According to the organizers the distance will be extended till Capas, Tarlac where the soldiers ended the death march. That’s a 140 km distance.

6. What are your future goals?

If my schedule permits me, I will try to join in all the local runs in Cebu. But there are invitations for me to play in the 40 and above soccer tournament in Bacolod in May. I will try going back to soccer this summer. This is just for a change. By June I will start preparing for my 2nd half-ironman in Camsur this August 22. Swimming will be my focus this time. I hope to improve my personal time and finish it in 6 hours. In November I will start training for the BDM 2011. Don’t get me wrong ha. Sports is just a past time, it’s not a career. My duties as a religious brother always take priority.

7. What’s your work with Don Bosco?

Quite a lot. I am the training director of Don Bosco Training Center for out-of-school-youth in Pasil. At the same time I am in-charge of the alumni of the same center. At the provincial level (salesians of don Bosco in Visayas and Mindanao) I head the commission on missions and work as the coordinator of the salesian lay volunteer organization.

I am the chairman of the Visayas Association of Religious Brothers (VARB) and the national president of the National Federation of Religious Brothers of the Philippines (NFRBP). With such amount of work, I really have to juggle with my running and my duties. I would even run at very ungodly hours so that I can be back for my community prayers and other duties.

8. Did you run in Africa when you were assigned there?

I was 13 years in Africa but I didn’t run much because the place where I worked was not running-friendly. I had an overdose of soccer in Nigeria. However, I did organize fun runs in the two centers where I was assigned. In 2005, I run a half-marathon in Lagos.

9. If you don’t mind, how old are you?

Age is a state of the mind! My chronological age is 47 (28 years as a religious brother) but I put 25 as my age in my Facebook, hahaha.

With Gen. Jovie Narcise (Bald Runner), organizer of the BDM 102