IN A recent conversation I had with colleagues in sports media, we pondered on whether or not our hundreds of articles have made any significant impact in the grand scheme of things.
When I thought about the question, I remembered a line from my former editor that stuck with me throughout my time as a journalist. “It’s not about your name on the byline; it’s about the people you write about,” he said.
He was right. Sports, especially in the Philippines, serves as a microcosm of society, complete with all of its systemic issues: politics, corruption, and injustice.
Personally, my love for collegiate sports was heavily influenced by my parents, which eventually carved my path toward journalism. My father was a colleague of many foreign student-athletes (FSA) from his time at the Bureau of Immigration. This was why I was particularly disappointed at the National Collegiate Athletic Association’s (NCAA) FSA ban, announced in 2018.
As I reflect on my write-ups over the years, a lot of lessons begin to arise regarding the problematic nature of sports in the country. Earlier this year, I had the chance to talk to former San Beda FSA Ola Adeogun.
I first met him in 2010 when my dad, who helped secure his student visa, made a point of introducing us, and I have since continued to watch him overcome adversity throughout his life. He shared how there was little pushback to the ban and argued that FSAs aided local collegiate development through diverse competition, which the NCAA claimed to “debunk.”
The powers at hand wanted parity in the league and saw an unfair advantage for those who recruited overseas. However, five years later, nothing has changed. For the last 15 years, there have still only been two champions in the NCAA.
When the people behind this ban hail from the same circles where Ola faced the most blatant racism, questions arise as to whether or not there are foul motives behind the policy. From him being taunted with bananas mid-game to being hurled with slurs by multiple opponents in his career, the problem runs deeper than just sporting politics.
Months later, I wrote an exposé regarding the current state of the NCAA. The premise was that NCAA teams only won 20% of their inter-league Filoil games since the ban. The leagues’ top coaches I interviewed all hinted at their longing for the FSAs’ return to help bridge the gap.
The systemic issue lies in how much schools can afford to recruit players, not necessarily the players they recruit. This was where the ban failed; the monetary aspect of it all was ignored in favor of what many have pointed out to be a racist rhetoric.
This article hit close to home for me and made a splash in sporting circles online. I wasn’t proud because I wrote it—I was proud because I made people talk about the issue once again.
Today, I still keep in touch with Ola. Every time he thanks me for continuing to bring the topic to light, I thank him back for sparking that little boy’s interest in sports, as a young kid watching larger-than-life figures playing the game they love.
With these experiences, I’ve realized that indeed, it’s truly never about the byline. In this day and age, sports journalism isn’t simply about the final score anymore—it’s about everything else that affects the way the game is played.
In the end, as sports journalists, that’s where our true purpose lies—in telling the larger-than-life stories of these exceptional figures that continue to push the game forward.
Luis is a Communication student at the Ateneo de Manila University. He combines his extensive background in sports journalism with his passion for sports to chronicle the stories of the Filipino athlete.
Editor’s Note: The views and opinions expressed by the opinion writer do not necessarily state or reflect those of the publication.
