July 31, 2003

     There are a lot of Filipinos we should be proud of (like Ninoy Aquino), as there are Filipinos we should absolutely despise (like Kris Aquino). Unfortunately these days, one rarely gets asked about the things in the country that we are so proud of. Understandably so. What is there to ask?

     A few days ago, an officemate asked me if I heard about a coup-d'etat-sort-of in a financial district in Makati. About 300 soldiers, including 70 officers barricaded a building, wired it with explosives, and started demanding a few things. I am not so clear as to what the demands were but I'm sure they were not as simple as demanding that the the government take away the color blue on M & M's. No, it's much more complicated than that.

     The easiest response to my officemate and to stop any discussion would be to say "Oh yeah, I heard about it. Isn't that exciting? Now, get lost." But I couldn't do that especially if I am talking to a non-Filipino who expected me to have a say about it. So I explained what I have seen on TV and read in the papers, and then I put my own little spin into it. A spin not to make the Philippines look real bad. In reality, and in all honesty, my first reaction was "ho-hum, so what's else is new, stupid people are bound to do stupid things once in a while". Not that I am taking sides in whatever the issue was, nor am I being insensitive. The simple fact that it came to that point and to where a firefight nearly ensued and a possible loss of lives is just absurd.

"I considered all the people who played there real hustlers, real skillful players. Players who had such an intuitive grasp of the geometry of the balls and the table. Still, the place smelled of smoke, half of players had no shirts, and hadn't taken a bath in weeks. But they were such good players. I never belonged in their league. I never dared to hold a stick and be laughed at."

     If I'm in the Philippines talking to a friend, I'll probably get a pat on the back for saying it like it is and being so honest. But sometimes, you just have to be careful with the words you use when talking to an American or another nationality. Especially so if you are in another country. I'd like to be honest, straightforward, funny and sarcastic as much as possible but it's hard not to put a little spin on things especially if it involves national pride. To explain this in another way, a Filipino makes a joke about the Philippines to a fellow Filipino, they both laugh. The same Filipino tells the same joke to an American, it's not funny anymore. Worse, if an American tells the same joke to a Filipino, he'll end up with a broken neck. I hate to break this to you but sometimes, I really go out of my way just to defend my pride, or whatever is left of it. If only there are good things to talk about, there's no need to spin or joke about it.

     Well, here's a bit of good news, people here ask me about the good things too. About how Filipinos rule the world of billiards. Fortunately, or unfortunately, the only time I hear somebody extolling the Filipino in my part of the world is when he's playing billiards. People marvel not at a President who's 4'11" or at the Banaue Rice Terraces, but at a 4th grade dropout with missing upper teeth called "The Magician" in billiard circles.

     I am talking, of course, about Efren "Bata" Reyes and his compatriots, all world-class pool players (for our purposes, pool and billiards mean the same thing and may be used interchangeably in this column). He, at least, along with "Django" Bustamante and oldtimer Jose "Amang" Parica and up and coming players like Antonio Lining and Warren Kiamco, makes up for all the bad press we had lately.

     People here at the office, for example, think I'm an excellent billiards player simply because "billiards is in my blood". I always tell them I am not good but they would still invite me to billiard halls every now and then to show them "some of my Filipino tricks". I've always managed to come up with excuses not to go. I don't want them to know I'm more than just "not good". I suck.

     I have never played a single game of billiards before. The allure of billiards then was not the same as it is now. Back in the days, a billiard hall was one of the places my parents would always remind us to stay away from. The reputation was so nasty, it's at the level of a beerhouse or a kabaret (pronounced with a hard "t", not with an "ey", come on, don't be so French) as our parents would say.

     I could not blame them. A billiard hall, back in our town in my "teen" days, was frequented by chain-smoking men with no shirts, usually tricycle drivers or tambays with nothing else to do. I knew a son of a billiard hall owner and visited one of their places and I'm telling you, my parents could not be more right. Aside from shirtless, smelly players, the place was a dump, people spitting on the floor and cigarrette butts everywhere. It gets nastier. In a small room in the corner, people could pay P1.50 to watch a porno movie. You could see not just young billiard players that may have been "up and comers" ("Bata" Reyes used to sleep on billiard tables when he was young) but also porn movies with titles like "Up and Comers Part 5" (the spelling is slightly different). Geez, that place ranks just below Sodom and Gomorrah.

     Remembering that place, I completely understood my parents, especially my mother's concern. To her, somebody who played bilyar during those days was no different (in reputation that is) to a "hostes sa kabaret" (again, pronounced with a "t"). The only difference probably lies in how both places looked in the break of day. A billiard hall would have a tired, sleepy and shirtless janitor sweeping the mud-stained, spit-filled floor while a kabaret would offer a sight of clothes and underwears hanging by the window or a clothesline.

     Speaking of "hostes sa kabaret", sometimes it's funny how our old folks would corrupt otherwise harmless words to mean nasty things they would only say to their worst enemies. Like the word hostess, for example. It simply means a female host. You throw in a party, you're the hostess. You welcome people to restaurants, you're a hostess. You're in charge of a public dining room and seats diners, you're a hostess. A cabaret (ka-ba-rey, this time please), meanwhile, is just a place serving liquor and providing entertainment like singers and dancers. Let's say your girlfriend works in a five-star hotel, don't ever make the mistake of introducing her to your old folks as a hostess. They will think you brought a prostitute to their house. Because that's what a hostess is to them (okay, to my mother, too). A prostitute, a whore (pardon the words, I meant to educate, not to offend). "Hostes sa kabaret" would then translate to "a whore in a whorehouse".

     We can't entirely blame our older folks. The later generations love to play this kind of word game too. G.R.O. or Guest Relations Officer is kind of harmless, right? But where do you find GRO's now? Not at hotels anymore, but at Sandpipers. Oh, well, words evolve. What can I say?

     Before I get lost again and write other things let me go back to billiards. The earliest form of pool I have seen (if you can call it a form of pool) was the one played on a square table as big as a mahjong's. The table which can be rotated 360 degress, had holes in all the corners. The pieces were not round but flat plastic chips numbered 1 to 15. I think it can be played by up to 4 people. The object of the game is to pocket the chip that corresponds to your so-called "bulletin", nothing more than a secret number you picked out of flask-shaped container. "Pool" tables were usually common in jeepney stops and sari-sari stores.

     As billiards hall started sprouting everywhere, the "square pool" slowly disappeared. Billiard establishments back in the days usually charged between P1 to P3 per hour. The tables were made of cheap materials and most of the places were poorly maintained. During my college years (no more restrictions on places I could go to), the most popular destination of classmates, like Dr. Jesus Diaz and company, was Raymund's along Guanco St. I have visited the place with them once or twice but never played. I considered all the people who played there real hustlers, real skillful players. Players who had such an intuitive grasp of the geometry of the balls and the table. Still, the place smelled of smoke, half of players had no shirts, and except for Dr. Diaz and company, hadn't taken a bath in weeks. But they were such good players. I never belonged in their league. I never dared to hold a stick and be laughed at.

     Bata Reyes and Django Bustamante, currently two of the world's best players, may not have escaped the reputation heaped upon billiards in their younger days and the judgments against their characters. Bata, for one, was a 4th grade dropout and virtually made a billiard shop his home, sleeping on billiard tables at night. He demonstrated his billiard skill at an early age and got his nickname "Bata" because another player, who was older, was also named Efren Reyes. From what I have read, Django was a dropout too and moved to Germany during his teens. He won virtually every tournament in Germany before campaigning internationally representing the Philippines.

     About two weeks ago, I followed closely the World Pool Championships in Cardiff, Wales. It was never shown on TV here in the U.S. but I found one Message Board on the internet that updated scores by the minute. It was unfortunate that no Filipinos made it to the Finals. Actually there was, if only by country of birth, but he eventually lost the championships to a player whose nationality I couldn't remember. He's Alex Pagulayan, a Filipino now representing Canada, his adopted country.

     Bata Reyes won the World Pool Championships in 1999. Django came close last year but eventually lost to American loudmouth Earl Strickland. He started the championship match after learning that his daughter, several months old, died of meningitis hours earlier. They are constantly on ESPN here in the U.S. winning tournaments after tournaments, including victories in Las Vegas, Nevada (Riviera Hotel 8-ball Open), Oklahoma (Tulsa 9-ball Championship) and Ohio (Columbus 10-Ball Open). In 2001, Django won the Joss Northeast Tour Turning Stone Classic II in New York, outclassing countryman Reyes. That was one of the rare times Django actually beat Bata. At least five Filipinos playing on the professionals billiards tour are now on the top ten moneylist provided by the magazine Billiard's Digest.

     I take great pride as a Filipino everytime an ESPN announcer mentions their names with great awe, with words like brilliant, magical and genius to describe their game. Bata Reyes doesn't talk much, too uncomfortable speaking English. I watched a tournament he won once where the runner-up, an American, was the one who was interviewed. Django acceded to an interview last year after he beat Finland's Mika Imonem in a tournament in Las Vegas aired on ESPN. I still remember his words in measured, halting English: "I win...you know...because I think I have the fighting spirit..." Way to go, Django!

     It is not difficult to connect to these players, especially if you know what they went through to be where they are now. Bata didn't have a choice but to sleep on pool tables at night and earn a few change during the day as a "spotter". His main concern was to survive. Now he is in the Billiard's Hall of Fame, a well-deserved spot for one of the most celebrated and charismatic players who ever wielded a cue stick. The enshrinement to the Hall was supposed to be last July 12 in Las Vegas. Reyes earned his place in the elite list along with 'Champagne' Eddie Kelly, a prominent player in the sixties, after the latest balloting of the Billiards Congress of America. "Obviously, this is a great thing for Efren, the Philippines, and pocket billiards," said Mike Panozzo of Billiards Digest magazine.

     I would welcome being associated with a hall-of-famer billiards player anytime than with corrupt politicians and a corrupt military. Now, all I need is to learn billiards to prove Filipino blood is running in my veins. It may be sooner than later. Since I'm too scared to start learning in a public place, I purchased my own table and put it right in the middle of my basement. If you're uncomfortable calling me "Bata", calling me "Amang" is fine too. Better late than never.

     Since my "teen" days, the reputation of billiards has completely changed, not only in the Philippines but also here in the U.S. TIME magazine recently ran an article entitled "The new cool in pool". In Chicago, billiard halls that used to cater to adults have now non-smoking areas, an area for children, and serve not only beer and chicken wings but also grilled cheese sandwiches and corn dogs. Parking areas are no longer dominated by Harley Davidsons and pickup trucks but by minivans as well. Women have caught up too. A survey of pool participation estimated that women - once virtual strangers to the game - accounted for nearly 1/3 of America's pool-playing population.

     You may scorn at the idea that I am still proud to be a Filipino because of Efren "Bata" Reyes rather than Gloria Macapagal Arroyo.

     Let me ask you this - can she reach the table?

     Some billiards trivia (lifted from all over the Web):

     - "The Fox and the Fly" may sound like one of Aesop's fables. But the actual story is true, and is probably one of billiards' most often-told tales. In 1865, Louis Fox and John Deery competed in a $1,000 match in Detroit. The 23-year-old Deery was handsome, athletic, and reputed to be totally fearless at the table. Fox, as his name implied, was a crafty veteran, known for driving his opponents crazy with his antics at the table. After a nail-biting struggle, Fox finally threatened to close out the match. In the midst of his surge, according to the legend, a fly took a liking to the cue ball, and continued to swarm around it, returning the moment the Fox took his stance. Efforts to shoo it away proved futile, and Fox, clearly rattled, missed his next shot. Deery proceeded to run the balls needed for victory, leaving the beaten Fox fuming in defeat. (Flies were actually a common problem in the mid 1800's. Most pool halls were lit with open flames from gas jets. This attracted the pests to the table, where they ultimately burned and fell onto the cloth.) So incensed was Fox over the constant interruptions, he literally blew after losing the match. He left the hall and plunged himself into the Detroit River. His body wasn't recovered for almost a year.

     - The term "scratch," as applied to a pocketing of the cue ball, was derived from the penalty assessed for such a foul. In pool's early days, the score was often kept on a chalkboard. When a player pocketed the cue ball, his opponent "scratched" a point off the shooter's score.

     - Captain Mingaud, the inventor of the leather cue tip, was imprisoned for political reasons during the French Revolution. With the help of a fellow prisoner, he was able to have a billiard table installed in his cell. It was during his incarceration that he became obsessed with the game, that he devised and perfected his invention. His obsession became so intense, that at the end of his prison term, he actually asked for a longer sentence, so that he could complete his study of the game!

     - Many handicapped people have played the game of pool, but the story of "Handless George" Sutton is truly one of inspiration. Born in 1870, Sutton lost both hands in a sawmill accident at the tender age of eight. Despite his handicap (and long before the days of advanced prosthetics), he studied medicine and graduated from the University of Milwaukee. During his college years, he took up the game of billiards. He became so proficient, he set an 18.2 Balkline world record with a run of 799, in 1921. He took his playing skills on the road, touring the country and amazing audiences for nearly 35 years. He left an everlasting legacy — the resolve of the human spirit — upon his death, in 1938.

     - Mary, Queen of Scots, was one of the first true billiard fanatics. Executed for her part in an assassination attempt on Queen Elizabeth I, in 1588. Allowed the use of her billiard table in her prison cell, upon her incarceration. When this privilege was revoked, months before her beheading, wrote a letter of complaint to the Archbishop. Though never allowed to play again, one final wish was granted, reflecting her undying passion for the game. Upon her beheading, her body was wrapped in the cloth from her beloved table.

     This week's Top Ten:

     Top Ten Things Said To Me On A Regular Basis:

1. Which Baldwin brother are you?
2. License and registration, please.
3. You promised me, if it's NBA off-season, you're off the couch.
4. I see you're into that website again. Got nothing to do?
5. So what do you say about the Lakers now?
6. Hello, may I speak with Rol..Roror..Raul..ahh..Mr. Garcia?
7. Daddy, would you please pay attention?
8. Are you related to Lou Diamond Phillips?
9. Your face tells me you had a pretty bad chicken-pox.
10. Man, you really suck at billiards. You're a disgrace to your race.

     This week's FINAL WORD comes from Feman:

     "Ha ha ha ha! You're making me laugh, the owner of the internet cafe is staring at me right now, probably wondering why I keep on laughing."

     Careful now. I don't want to get you banned from internet cafes.

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     The author's e-mail address is at drgarcia@wvsumedaa.com

     Views expressed on this column and any other by-lined articles on this site are the authors' own and do not necessarily reflect the views of the organization or its members. For comments, please e-mail the author.