Phelps Plus Plus

August 20, 2008

Article for the column “Mirror Image” (Business Mirror, August 20, 2008)

 

“Phelps Plus Plus”

 

By Rene F. Concepcion

 

Many journalists have already written about Michael Phelps, and there’s no question their words are inspirational.  When a writer has a subject of extreme genius, any dummy can describe the once-in-a-lifetime gift the world has in the form of Michael Phelps.

 

So it’s time to write about other champions, someone like Jason Lezak.  Without him, Phelps would have one less gold medal.  As anchor of the 4×100-meter freestyle relay, Lezak had to chase Frenchman Alain Bernard, who at the time of the race was the world-record holder in the 100-meter freestyle, the event for which Bernard eventually won Olympic gold.  If the world-record holder has a lead, everyone probably agrees that chasing the fastest guy in the planet is impossible.  At one point, Lezak did picture defeat.

 

“I’m not going to lie,” Lezak said in the media conference after. “The thought really crossed my mind for a split-second, ‘There’s no way (to catch Bernard).’ ” But great champions find a way.  Lezak swam the most mind-boggling 100-meter freestyle relay time of 46.06 seconds.  For swimmers, this statistic is so incredible it’s like saying Tiger eagled all 18 holes, or Lebron scored 30 points per period.

 

At age 32 (old by swimming standards), with no major endorsement deals, and choosing to coach himself (training alone instead of with a team), plus harboring disappointing defeats from Sydney and Athens, Lezak proved that when the mind and body is faced with supreme obstacles, a superhuman spirit suddenly soars because it is imperative to be super.

 

Since the start of the Beijing Olympiad, I’ve been asked by reporters, organizations, and even good friends to describe the spirit of the Olympics.  I would hardly talk about my performance, but more so the qualities I saw in others.  Since many journalists have already described the greatness of a hundred Olympic feats, adding to the canon of stories is pointless unless I finally write about my personal Olympic experience. 

 

I did my lifetime best times two times, and faltered the other two times.  I guess my swimming results were 50-50.  Of course, I pushed myself 100 percent in all four events.  But as I climbed out of the pool each time, best time or not, and knowing I would never make it to the next round, I guess it took a lot of guts to accept being a tiny fish from a small pond, sunk in a big Olympic ocean.

 

Yet everybody, and I mean everybody, has a competitive nature.  No one will settle for silver if they can grab gold.  Since I was never going to win in the Olympic arena, I suppose my competitive nature automatically turned to something else that needed superhuman spirit.  And you know what, I bet Olympic gold medalists wouldn’t have the mettle to fight the fight I’ve been fighting for the past 20 years.  I’ve chosen to compete against the monster called Philippine Sports!  

 

I’m realistic — we aren’t going to produce the likes of Michael Phelps in the Philippines.  But all countries, including ours, can create bravehearts like Jason Lezak.  If only Philippine sport doesn’t shoot itself in the foot before stepping onto the plane for the Games.

 

There isn’t enough space in this column to describe in detail the heartache of Seoul ’88.  I repeat, it wasn’t because of my swimming.  It was because of thieving.  What was stolen?  For one, Philippine pride — our national flag fell to the ground because instead of embroidered flags sewn onto our parade uniforms, we were given car stickers that obviously couldn’t stick to cheap polyester.  You want to hear another?  Well, I could write an entire novel about fighting the monster.  I just hope my heart is brave enough to have a victory ceremony at the end of this story that’s a never-ending call to adventure.

 

In the meantime, I try to enjoy and appreciate the big and small blessings that come our way.  The other night, I saw Lebron James make this incredible bouncing pass in the USA versus Spain basketball game.  Plus, I felt emotional seeing 41-year old US swimmer Dara Torres crying on the victory stand.  Was she sad because she only got silver, or was she in tears because even she felt so much honor with her amazingly unbelievable achievement? 

 

To end, I must return to Michael Phelps, and say my two-cents-worth.  Despite his historic eight gold medal haul, I’m so happy to see that he is still a very simple, good guy.  He may be a monster in the pool, but I know he will never make a monster out of sports.

 

Professor Rene F. Concepcion is a full-time faculty member in the De La Salle University – Manila Ramon V. del Rosario Sr. Graduate School of Business.  He teaches Sports and Recreation Management and Culture and Arts Management.  He is currently on his one-year sabbatical, but he continues to be coach the DLSU varsity swimming team.  This is the second of three parts that Professor Concepcion will write on the Olympic Games.  Part three will appear on September 3, 2008.  Comments can be sent to his email address:  concepcionr@dlsu.edu.ph

 

 

 

20-Year Old Olympic Soul

August 6, 2008

 

 

20-Year Old Olympic Soul

 

Seeing the Seoul Olympic stadium again, 20 years after the privilege of competing in the Olympic Games, wasn’t as dramatic as I thought it would be. 

 

Not that my memories of Seoul ‘88 were ordinary.  Quite the contrary, these were the Games when boxer Leopoldo Serrantes won bronze for our country.  I can still picture Serrantes dropping to his knees when the referee declared victory.  I also remember watching Steffi Graf and Greg Louganis compete, plus I saw them at the Olympic Village, heading to the dining hall to eat.  For those moments I felt like their equal — even superstars get hungry like me! 

 

While in Korea last month, I had occasion to return to these memories.  Then I wondered what the adjective “Olympian” has meant to me for the past 20 years.  I had plenty of time to reflect because, for one, I couldn’t flag any cab down at the Seoul stadium.  Upon landing in Manila, my luggage was one of the last to come out.  Then on EDSA, what else can you do but think “heavy” when you’re stuck in heavy traffic.    

 

Over the years, I notice I always pick the wrong line at Jollibee.  I’m still subject to No I.D. No Entry.  And a virus killed the files in my USB.  Truth is the adjective is not a free pass to anything.  I’m not complaining, and I ask for no special treatment.  Other people actually volunteer that bit of info about me (someone said I’m modest and very proud of it).  Truth is I’ve been worried to write this piece knowing I’ll have to say I’m such and such.  Go ahead, roll your eyes, I could’ve picked a different topic, but I didn’t.

 

Not too many people know, but Leopoldo Serrantes has been confined at the Veterans Memorial Hospital the past two years due to a lung ailment.  High profile individuals helped him with medical bills, but he used the money to pay overdue rent.  The world’s third best light-flyweight in 1988 couldn’t pay rent.    

 

Some Filipino Olympians have lost dignity.  At the run-down and dirty national stadium named after our national hero, sometimes I would see them, stooped, shoulders down, hearts down.  Once upon a time they were literally our country’s best.  It is improbable that human beings of such high caliber could fall, but they did.  It appears they don’t even bother to dream of shining again, not anymore in their sport, but in simply belonging to the right line.

 

Some other Olympians have lost a different kind of dignity, and sadly, they don’t even know it.  They’ve lost moral fiber.  Sadder for them if they do know, so, they compensate their consciences with the carnivorous consumption that comes with corruption.  It is sorrowful that sportsmen who grew up being steadfast could spiral so swiftly down and out of scruples. 

 

Maybe it’s unwarranted to place grand expectations on people who just happen to be Olympians.  Many of them cheat, as you know, doping is always in the news.  And people cannot avoid sometimes being down on their luck (with rent, with health, with family, with emotions, with day to day living).  I’ve faced burdens beyond the trivial, and I admit I wasn’t always so strong. 

 

But I owe a duty to the sheer weight of this word.  Olympian is not only an adjective.  It is a big noun.  It is a powerful verb.  I have an obligation to keep my Olympic soul intact.  The once and future Olympians of pure virtue compete not for glory or gold, but for the beauty of what can be.  I cannot dishonor their philosophy.

 

Twenty years is now longer than the years it took me to become one.  By now I should’ve reached heights beyond the peaks of Mount Olympus if the spirit is supposed to keep me surging.  Or have I fallen too?  Do I need to return to sports just to prove my worth (and so be endorsing instead of queuing the slowest lines at Jollibee)?  It’s never too late, nor is anyone too old to be elite if your heart wills it –- just look at 39-year old American Sheila Toarmina, who’ll be competing in Beijing in her fourth Olympics, but in her third sport (Swimming 1996; Triathlon 2000 & 2004; Modern Pentathlon 2008)!

 

Back at the Seoul stadium, fantastic as it is, I realized it’s only a building.   The drama of climbing a whole mountain of valorous living is Olympian enough. 

 

 

Professor Rene F. Concepcion is a full-time faculty member at the De La Salle University Ramon V. del Rosario Sr. Graduate School of Business.  He is currently on his one-year sabbatical, but continues to be the head coach of the DLSU – Manila varsity swim team.  This is the first of Prof. Concepcion’s three-part series on the Olympic Games.  You may send your comments to concepcionr@dlsu.edu.ph.  The second part will appear on August 20, 2008.  

 

ARTICLE FOR THE COLUMN MIRROR IMAGE (BUSINESS MIRROR AUGUST 7, 2008)