Duality, Dissonance and Diaspora

There’s a popular discourse in Philippine football aside from tiki-taka vs long balls that seem to pop up every international break and that is the question of identity. By “question of identity” I do not mean what kind of football do we play but “who are these people playing for our country and wearing our flag?”

The topic has been discussed ad nauseam, so much so that I have seen it argued both ways to no party’s satisfaction. Some say the players are not relatable because they aren’t from here and if they’re not from here, how much of a Filipino are they really? If it’s about relatability, then can it be solved by marketing?

Is it because most of them don’t speak Tagalog/Filipino? There’s a quote in Pat Evangelista’s memoir that says “In a country where more than a hundred languages are spoken, a command of English, much like pale skin, is a signifier of privilege.” If this is the case, then at the very core of it, do people not like football because of the air of elitism and privilege that it seems to exude?

Even writing this somehow feels like it’s exclusively for people who already know and love the sport. How can we sell the dream to the masses if we use a language that they don’t speak in or have a negative perception of? But if it’s only a language thing, what about the athletes of any other sport or the many artists in the world stage or the beauty queens that we’ve claimed as ours by virtue of jus sanguinis?

If you have reached this far then you have probably realized already that I offer you nothing new. Not answers or solutions to questions that have been repeatedly asked by many of us; not a new perspective of how or why people think the way that they do. If I did, this would go on for much longer than it should. This isn’t an attempt on neutrality either. After all, I also have my own biases. So instead, if you’ll allow it, let me tell you how I see things.

Being raised as Catholic, I see myself in these players who make the sign of the cross every time they enter the pitch. They may not have been raised here, but just like in many Filipino households, their faith has played a huge part in their upbringing.

I see myself in how family-oriented they are. As the daughter of an OFW, I see my mother in their parents and their grandparents who chose to leave the motherland for the great American dream and the Western hope of an easier life.

I see them going to other countries themselves, far from their families to work on their skills and better themselves as people and as athletes. I see their tirelessness in training and then bringing back what they’ve learned when they play for our country and I am reminded of friends and other kababayans who have gone abroad and have come back to do the same.

I see how they lift each other up to be the best version of themselves and how they hold each other accountable and isn’t that what bayanihan is all about?

I see them find levity and lessons and humor after losses and I am reminded of the well-known Pinoy resilience that even when our backs are against the wall, we will still get up and give it our all the next time. I see them humble and grateful after wins and that reminds me of the humility of Pinoys.

It doesn’t matter if you’re homegrown or if you’re a heritage player. To choose to play for one’s country is no small feat especially for one where the people are not predominantly football fans. The sacrifices are as plenty just the same. The pride and honor is just as big. I am not saying that there should not be any more discourse. It is how most problems are brought to light and how most solutions are found, after all. I only hope that as our community tries to find a middle ground, we remain open and receptive. Finding Filipinos everywhere has made the world borderless, may our perspectives be the same.