I’m not saying this because he’s my friend.
I’m saying this because he has not been my friend when he offered me to write a column here.
I said, “Boy, Mon left the Philippines without saying goodbye to me, and here he comes, inviting me to become a columnist of his prestigious newspaper?”
I said, either he is a good man or a fool. But he’s both. Let me explain. A good man never looks at the color of money, nor a man’s station in life.
A good man takes you for what you are, no matter if you are in an Armani suit or in a Crispa T-shirt.
A good man makes a fool of himself treating you like a king even if you are the poorest of the poor.
Get the drift?
That’s Mon Datol. A good man and a fool. We were both sportswriters when he was in Pinas. He ceased being a sportswriter when he flew overseas. But that’s only as far as putting up a newspaper was concerned. Deep in his heart, Mon will always be a sportswriter.
Notice his writings. The sportswriter’s traits will always be there. The action in his words.
The punchlines in his sentences. The explosions in his paragraphs.
Like soldiers, sportswriters will always be sportswriters; they don’t even fade away but become, like lovers, better and better and better each time they pound away at a column or a story, at an article or an expose.
When Mon left, I didn’t even know he left. I only knew he had settled, finally, in Toronto when the pleasant surprise landed in my lap: “Idol, please write a column for me? I miss your Spectator columns.”
It was from Mon. All the way from Toronto. Via e-mail.
My, I didn’t know he loved my Spectator column that much.
The Spectator, which started in Bulletin in 1980, migrated to Inquirer in 1986. It “retired” there in 2006 when the new Inquirer owners said they don’t like it anymore.
I am just an employee and so, as an obedient employee, I acceded.
It has always been my principle that when a newspaper owner doesn’t like my writings anymore, I just leave. No use fighting for your column to stay. Doesn’t make sense.
If you love your self, you love your art. If you love your art, you love your self. I love my self, I love my art. If other people can’t love your art, they can’t love your self, too.
Mon showed me that.
By inviting me to write for his paper, I feel he loves me, I feel he loves my art, I feel he loves my writings.
“I miss your Spectator,” he said.
And so, I resurrected my Spectator here. Rey Fortaleza of Vancouver was actually the first to offer me a column in Canada. But Rey did not specifically say he wanted Spectator. And he also did not pursue his offer with the same passion as when Mon made a similar offer for Spectator’s revival.
So, when Spectator started appearing here, I mentioned it to Rey. And, being the good man, too, that he really is, Rey said, “OK, let’s have your Spectator, too, in my paper.” And so it came to pass that Spectator is now both at the great newspapers of Mon and Rey. Then, later, Kuya Mario Panoringan of San Francisco, CA, also asked for it so that every now and then, it’s also being carried at Kuya Mario’s paper. I’m eternally grateful to the
Big Three for their faith.
When did I begin here, Mon? Was it in 2006, 2007? Ah, time flies and, indeed, we don’t notice the passing of years. But the one thing that matters is, when people you truly value also truly value you—like Mon Datol, Rey Fortaleza and Mario Panoringan—that is God’s blessing whose value is beyond price.
This, being the seventh year of Mon Datol’s Courier, I can only say with pride and honor that it would not have lasted this long if not for the goodness in Mon’s heart.
Seven is a lucky number to many people, so that I’m sure another seven good years is in the offing for Mon to achieve more successes.
Only good men—yes, there are still a few good men like “Good Mon” left on this planet—are mostly assured of that.
************
The latest on P-Noy
IS P-Noy playing his role to the hilt?
Not really.
If we go by his Inaugural speech whereby he said the people are his Boss, how come he has insisted on pinning more taxes on motorists using the SLEX when there’s a strong objection to this?
Once that’s carried out, prices of prime commodities like rice, vegetables and meat will shoot up as traders will naturally try to recover
“lost ground” at the expressway.
Simple logic: Virtually all new taxes imposed will punish the people because they bear the brunt of the chain reaction resulting in price movements .
The truth is, traders won’t be hurt that much. It’s the common tao that suffers from a new, government-imposed tax.
And to think that one of P-Noy’s main promises during the campaign was not to impose new taxes once he gets elected—the SLEX tax being one of them.
P-Noy may have his reasons, but a people long suffering from abject poverty and want will never understand. Seemingly, therefore, P-Noy is hurting his Boss. And that’s not good.
I will never hurt my Boss.
Perhaps, the only time I can hurt my Boss is, maybe, when I point out to him what I feel is something bad emanating from his office, or that a decision-in-the-making won’t be beneficial to everyone concerned.
He might take it to mean I am disputing his judgment. But the truth of the matter is, I’m just trying to help. Now, if he thinks I’m wrong, fine. I have two options: Quit, or ride along. I guess, I’d quit. On matters of principle, there’s no second thought.
But I’m not quitting on P-Noy. N’yet. It’s still too early in the day.
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