Blue Babble, Gang Green
Some of my best friends come from Ateneo. And though we might hurl invectives at each other in the thick of an Ateneo-La Salle game, we will end up sharing a beer afterward — of course, one of us will be chugging the beer while the other will be weeping into it.
As I write this, my Ledesma clan celebrates the ordination to the diaconate of my first cousin Reverend Mark Lopez, SJ (Society of Jesus) at the Church of Gesu, Ateneo de Manila University. We couldn’t be more elated than to welcome our soon-to-be-priest (and a Jesuit one at that!) to our (mostly) Lasallian family.
But as my good friends from “the other school” would jokingly remark, my cousin Mark has finally “seen the light.” (Or, a bit more appropriately, was “coming back to the light”). You see, I’m a third-generation Lasallian (with some of my nieces and nephews ushering in our fourth generation). However, when I perused through old family records online, I belatedly discovered that my great grandfather — Cesar Ledesma — was (God forbid) an Atenean!
(However, my good friends from Taft would retort that the reason my great grandfather went to THE Ateneo was because the Christian Brothers had not yet set foot in the Philippine islands when he was in high school.)
Thus goes the ongoing one-upmanship that has — at times — mesmerized or infuriated those of us who have been “ruined” by our Christian Brother or Jesuit indoctrination (and no doubt amused and befuddled those who are from neither school). A school rivalry that knows no age, no gender, and no amount of hair on the chest or on the scalp.
And, as far as the Philippines is concerned, this is a rivalry that dates all the way back to my late lolo’s teenage years in the early 1920s — the Ateneo-La Salle rivalry.
The storied rivalry is the topic of my upcoming book from Anvil Publishing — Blue Babble, Gang Green: An Ateneo-La Salle Rivalry, a collection that has been seven years in the making.
Admittedly, I’m a bit nervous about the contents of the book (which is why I have invested in body armor that protects me from both arrows, beaks and claws). These essays are a departure from the usual self-deprecating humor and green-minded topics on dating, mating and pink parts that has been the usual stock in trade of my column and previous books (how can my column not be green-minded? Eh, Lasalista ako eh.). But being green-doctrinated over three generations, how could I not write about the rivalry that has led me to seek out a cardiologist?
And this was quite evident when I wrote my first-ever rivalry article — after the DLSU men’s basketball team added another feather to its archer’s cap when it bested the University of the East in Season 70 of the UAAP Basketball finals. But La Salle had a tough semi-final battle with archrivals Ateneo that extended to three games before securing a place in the finals.
Although we went from zero to hero in the 2007-‘08 season (as it was the season that DLSU returned to the league after a year-long suspension), we had an inkling that we would be in for an even tougher fight with the Blue Eagles the following season.
And in the basketball finals game of Season 71, Ateneo showed La Salle what “One Big Fight” was all about.
From a high to a sigh (And those of us on the green side have been heaving sighs while the King Eagles took the past five seasons. But we had one big high when we finally regained the championship in Season 76). And, if God is good, I’ll be highing and sighing until my hair grows white and my pink parts shrivel. But that’s what the rivalry is all about.
Given that the impassioned rivalry has resulted in a lot of name-calling, chest-thumping and middle-finger pointing, I struggled to make these essays as balanced and politically correct as I could. When drafting these essays, I consulted with many a Katipunan-educated friend to make sure that the article portrayed them in a fair light lest they send a covert Blue Babble squad to turn me into eagle chow. But given the rivalry’s impassioned nature, it’s difficult not to step on any toes or claws (as the case may be). But I tried my best to set a cosmic balance by interviewing people who have (arguably) become an artful blend of purple: Lasallian Jesuits and Jesuit Lasallians.
Growing up green (and, moreover, in a clan of green), there was always that tinge of curiosity about the “color of the grass” over at the other school. So when one of my cousins was the first (and only) to venture into Katipunan territory for high school, it was the equivalent of sending one of our own into alien (and possibly “hostile”) territory. (Here’s my own confession: I passed my college course of choice at Ateneo, but family loyalty prevailed upon me to continue down the emerald brick road. But admittedly, I was laboring under the assumption that Atenistas might not take too kindly treat a dyed-in-the-wool Lasallian who jumped over the bakod).
(And my suspicions were confirmed by my contemporary, good friend and Ateneo champion debater and lecturer Peejay Garcia — “You would have been pilloried!” (May smiling winky face pa) It didn’t help, Peejay added, that I was my “batch’s most famous Lasallian” because I was hawking a carbonated orange softdrink at that time — a time when classes were called off because of kudetas, when cellphones were the size of backpacks, and when Kuya Germs could make or break your fledgling teenage showbiz career)
But as I competed in college intervarsity debates, as I entered the workforce and shared office space with bluebloods, as my sister (gasp!) pursued college in the Ateneo and eventually married her (gasp!) Atenista husband, and as I became active in my Single Young Adults (which were peopled by folks of both colors), I gained the opportunity to better appreciate “the other school” through osmosis.
Whatever stereotypes (and, as far as stereotypes go, they are often none too kind) had colored my perceptions of Ateneans were now painted over with a more cerulean hue.
In fact, some of the best friends I have made over the years come from Ateneo. And though we might hurl invectives at each other from opposite sides of the court in the thick of an Ateneo-La Salle game, we will end up sharing a round of beer once the game is done (of course, one of us will be chugging down the beer while the other will be weeping into it).
As much as I enjoy our spirited rivalry as the next Green Archer or Blue Eagle, I would like to think the relationship of our institutions extends beyond our competition in basketball or in academic rankings or in Pinoy Big Brother. Personally, I have had many life-affirming encounters with Jesuits that have shaped my faith: from an insightful discussion on trying to reconcile my faith with my yoga practice with Fr. Jem Guevara, SJ (my grade school carpool-mate from La Salle Greenhills who is now a Jesuit missionary in Taiwan) to an intimate celebration of the Eucharist with Fr. Manoling Franciso, SJ (who crafted the moving religious songs Hindi Kita Malilimutan and Sa ‘Yo Lamang) along with other terribly distraught Pinoy graduate students in a Boston apartment on the night of 9/11. These encounters have helped me in my own struggle as a practicing Catholic trying to live out the values espoused by St. La Salle.
So with that, allow me to share with you an excerpt from the soon-to-be-released book.
Fervor, Fever, Fury
We love this rivalry, don’t we? From debate to golf to jack en poy, all you have to do is slap on that imprimatur of SJ or FSC (Fratres Scholarum Christianarum), and both sides start painting on their war colors. And this rivalry hits its crescendo when we duke it out on the hardcourt. Our rubber matches are the few times where we can be unapologetically Blue and Green. We invest so much of ourselves in school pride (some even invested P25,000 to score tickets on eBay) that it is very easy to lose ourselves in the rivalry.
And why not? After all, we’re only human.
We all relish the passion, the zest, and the loss of bladder control that this rivalry brings to the routine of our daily lives. In fact, we want to be overtaken by our passion. We want to be seized by the moment. We want to be swept away by the experience. And I can see why: in a world where uncertainty is the norm — where we are unsure as to where the global economy is heading, when we are clueless as to which government official is telling us the truth, and when we don’t know who will win in Survivor Philippines — our basketball games are an ultimate escapist fantasy. During the hardcourt battle, the lines are clearly drawn. We know who deserves our cheers and who deserves our jeers. We know who is the hero and who is the villain. We know who is the victor and who is the vanquished. Yes, these games truly bring out the best in us.
I think one of the greatest lessons I gleaned from this rivalry is that we do have the opportunity to become more human for each other. How living up to the value of our rivalry helps us build each other up instead of tear each other apart. How we can be men for others for La Sallians, and how we can be Christian achievers for God and country for Ateneans. In the end, we aren’t really poles apart: we each take pride in our players. We take pride in our schools. We take pride that our schools give us the opportunity to become part of this ongoing rivalry. And in the end, our principles know no color. Our respect knows no color. And our faith embraces both colors.
How did the Ateneo-La Salle rivalry begin?
The year was 1939, and the National College Athletic Association (NCAA) was in full swing. La Salle and Ateneo were both part of the league, but the rivalry of the day wasn’t Eagle versus Archer; it was Eagle versus another alpha-member of the animal kingdom: the San Beda Red Lions.
But it was in the NCAA’s 16th season that the seeds were planted for a future rivalry that has been the leading cause of heart attacks, hair loss, and aneurysms among students, alumni, and faculty from both sides: the first-ever championship matchup between the boys in Blue and the boys in Green. The Blue Eagles had been heavily favored to cop the 16th NCCA pennant and had won every game leading to the finals.
However, like any La Salle–Ateneo game, statistics were about as useful as the yellow lanes along EDSA. After a hard-fought rubber match where claw met arrowpoint, La Salle outscored Ateneo 27 to 23 (yes, you read the score right), with La Salle bagging its first-ever NCAA title.
But was basketball the be-all and end-all of the rivalry between both schools? Or was there an even bigger rivalry between both institutions that led to that incendiary spark that has singed feathers and melted quivers since? Could the spark have been the choice of school colors? Since the Jesuits were first to arrive on Philippine shores, their school color was blue. However, La Salle’s school colors in the motherhouse were blue and gold. Did La Salle have to forcibly change its school colors to green because of the Jesuits? (The truth behind this is far less controversial: the green color, which was first worn by the members of the varsity squad, betrayed the Irish heritage of the sports director, Brother Cerba John.) Or could the spark have been football — it was a fanatically huge sport back in the pre-Azkal years of the 1930s — so much so that it was made a priority sport by the country’s physical director at that time, Dr. Regino Ylanan? Or could the spark have been with regard to which school had more coños in their roster?
Apparently, the rivalry was deeper than all of that.
And if you want to find out more about the secret origin of the rivalry, then pick up a copy of the book, which will (hopefully) be available at the Manila International Book Fair, National Bookstore and Powerbooks nationwide this September.
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For comments, suggestions or one big Animo fight, please email ledesma.rj@gmail.com. or visit www.rjledesma.com. Follow @rjled on Twitter and @rjled610 on Instagram.
