That time of year

Christmas season is both the most stressful and most idle time of the year in our profession. Save for a few rare events like Christmas Day NBA and PBA games, it is only one of two times a year when you can guarantee that there are no sporting events at all. For those of us also in print, the only other downtime comes during Good Friday and Black Saturday. Other than that, we’re endlessly on the go.

Generally, come late November, we all start hustling to fill in the December airtime or pages that will suddenly become voids from the lack of stories. We comb through our archives for the stories of the year, the biggest events, the best performances. We list records broken, deaths, retirements and anything noteworthy. In short, we elevate footnotes to headline status. Last year was particularly challenging for two reasons. First, everybody was just restarting, and the Philippines had just come out of the world’s longest lockdown. Secondly, the Christmas and New Year holidays fell on weekdays, meaning we had more blank days to fill up.

Frankly, holidays can be disorienting for those of us on the beat. When we’re at home, there’s this subconscious feeling that we should be somewhere else. It’s like driving to the province bracing yourself for traffic that never comes. We’re so used to all the pent-up energy and adrenaline, it takes a while to slow down. The first couple of days, you feel antsy, like you’ve forgotten something. Your heart rate’s accelerated, your breathing’s tight. Then, when you finally relax and admit that a slower pace is something you could get used to, it’s back to the grind. It feels like these holidays should either be longer or shorter.

But perhaps what we dread is the silence, the inactivity, the tendency to introspect, to remember as closure comes unbidden. This year will be particularly challenging for this writer. In April, my long-time friend and broadcast partner Boyet Sison passed away after surgery to remove a blockage from his digestive system. Truth be told, he was never the same after his mother died, and was in a dark place for a few years before he became ill. It makes us wonder what else we could have done to alleviate his burden. Boyet was Christmas to me. He was the everyman, the gushing fan who masqueraded as a broadcaster, enjoying life so much more than the rest of us did. He reminded me a lot of Joe Cantada, who smoked, drank, sang and loudly lived three lifetimes’ worth in just one. His death still stings every day. Last year, what hurt most was the passing of fellow journalist Arlyn dela Cruz, with whom I was starting a new creative path in feature film writing.

For now, let Christmas mean refreshing those rich memories, recalling good times, smiling as we replay them in our minds. I’ve always said I have the best job in the world, sitting courtside for thousands of transcendent moments here and abroad. I’m sure we will all have many more to come, from FIBA tournaments to the SEA Games, the Olympics and beyond. Those are the gifts that we carry with us this season and always. I pray these golden moments light our days for always, not just when the year comes to a close.