A Perfect Season

By Jose Miguel Arguelles

1 The students were restless that morning. It was to be the final basketball championship game that
afternoon between our school St. Jude High School and Ateneo de Zamboanga University. The two
schools were tied, one game each. This was the rubber match and would probably decide St. Jude's
sports program for the next few years. Although I couldn't care less about the game, I had to pretend
I did. My son Mike was part of St. Jude's basketball team. Although he hadn't played a single game
this season, being his father, I was expected to show up and give him moral support. As if that actually
helped anyone.
2 The students continued writing the formal themes I had assigned them, perhaps grumbling underneath
their breaths what a buzzkill I was. Outside the hall, other students were busy rummaging through
their lockers as their teachers had dismissed them early. This noticeably distracted my students, but
they knew that they weren't going to get anything out of me. Other students were staring wistfully out
of the windows. Some rhythmically tapped their pens on their desks. One of them, Koko, was
sleeping.
3 I continued marking the themes of the previous classes, my face impassive. They had groaned when
l announced that they were having formal theme day today. I knew that they would hand in half-
baked, half-thought of es-says. I silently cursed our team for winning Game One and preventing
Ateneo's expected sweep.
4 I gave up on the essays after a while. Many of them carried the recurring theme of basketball. Even
the girls, who usually eschewed sports, suddenly gushed about how basketball was the most important
thing in their lives. I was getting sick of the references to basketball as mirroring life. All I asked them
to do was to write a short essay choosing some other thing as a metaphor for life. No matter how
much you tried avoiding basketball, it always found a way to intrude into your life.
5 Koko started snoring and his classmates laughed. I cleared my throat-the signal for everyone to give
me their full attention. The class quieted down, but Koko continued snoring. I cleared my throat again.
Still no response. I got a metal paperclip from my bag, trapped it in between the edges of my thumb
 and my index fin-ger, and snapped it at the sleeping fiend. Even though he was four rows away, the
paper clip found its mark and hit him on the nose, just a little distance away from his open mouth. He
immediately snapped awake and looked like a cornered cat. A long line of drool oozed from his
mouth. The class began laughing again.
6 "Koko, have you even started with your theme?" I asked amid the laughter. I was known for being
able to shoot anything from my thumb and index finger at great distances. It often provided comic
relief for the students in my class.
7 Koko shook his head, picked up his pen, and began scribbling on the sheet of paper before him.
8 I sighed and looked away. I should have used a one-peso coin. It would have had a more sterling
effect. Things were so much easier when schools still allowed corporal punishment. The students
feared you and that fear kept them in line. Now, you were simply the safari tour guide. Any moment,
a crocodile may snap at you and it's over.
9 "Is anyone even halfway done?" I asked.
10 A few hands shot up in the air. The usual suspects.
11 "You need extra time?" I asked them.
12 Their heads popped up. They began saying yes.
13 "Well if you'd begun writing at the start of this class, you wouldn't need it," I replied, relishing the
flinches my retort got. "No extensions. Hand in whatever you have when the bell rings."
14 The heads went back to their desks, and I continued cursing that stupid basketball game again. These
events should be held during semestral breaks and summer vacations. They distracted not only the
students, but most especially the varsity members who often had the lowest grades in their classes.
And yet, of all the athletes who competed for that moment of glory, only the basketball athletes really
mattered. They got trips when they won championships. They were serenaded as if they were rock
stars. I had been fighting a lonely battle decrying the state of the other sports programs in our school.
I didn't want basketball to be scrapped. I simply wanted the distribution of athletic funds and
privileges to be more equitable. But no one ever listens to me.
15 And thus, five years after the city government organized the Zamboanga High Schools Athletic
Association (ZHSAA), St. Jude, which won almost all the championships during the first season, was
 left with one crown-men's basketball. In a recent faculty meeting, I stood up and launched a tirade
against the preferential treatment given to the basketball team. Look at us now. We only have one
championship left. If you had listened to me, we would not be in this situation.
16 The principal simply told me that my comments had been noted and moved on to the possible
suspension of classes. He said that the suspension was needed, because this year our school's most
horrific basketball scenario had finally come true-we would be facing Ateneo's basketball team in the
finals. We had never beaten them in five years. But they had never made it past the playoffs before.
Their zone defense which worked well against our half-court set often got smashed by other teams.
This time though, with their new coach, they had made it through. And if we were to keep our
championship, we would have to go through them.
17 The mood had been glum two weeks ago. Everyone had predicted an Ateneo sweep. Our games
against them this year ended up in blow-outs. Then, a week ago, during Game One, St. Jude sprang a
miracle worthy of the saint and won in double overtime.
18 All of a sudden, the school was infected with jubilation. Even my co-teachers were brimming with
joy. They would even try to coax me into talking about the championship series. They thought that I
would be gushing over basketball now that my son was part of the team. I avoided such conversations
or when I couldn't, I steered it back to the fact that basketball was all the school thought of and it
served us right for losing all our other crowns. They always left me alone after one of these tirades.
19 Then, as if someone out there was listening to me, Game Two happened.
20 Four days ago, as our team was leading by ten points late in the third quarter, our point guard, Reggie,
was fouled quite hard. The deliberate foul triggered a bench-clearing brawl between the two squads.
Seven players were eject-ed. Four of them from our side, all members of the starting five. Ateneo, on
the other hand, only lost its power forward and two reserves. To make matters worse, Reggie had
been injured by the foul. St. Jude lost the game by twenty. The balloons our school had placed on the
rafters of the Summit stayed there-just full of air. The banners we had rush-ordered remained unfurled.
Because of the fight, all seven players were suspended for one game. Reggie's injury also removed
him from the active roster.
21 The days leading to this one were filled with panic. The remains of our team were excused from all
classes for the next three days and they trained from seven in the morning to ten in the evening.
22 And thus began my several fights with Mike. He had insisted on attending the practices despite his
being a third-string point guard. He started to answer me back. He told me that I was too controlling
and that I had no business interfering in his life. I countered that I raised him not to be a basketball
player but to be a lawyer or doctor. I told him that he was never going to make it into the big leagues
and all he was doing was just a waste of time. Before the fight turned ugly, my wife, Regina, stepped
in and told me to leave Mike alone.
23 It was her fault that Mike had joined the varsity. When I had refused to sign his permit, she did so
behind my back. The next thing I knew, faculty members were congratulating me because Mike had
made it into the team. I could feel the sniggering behind those congratulatory remarks. Perhaps they
thought I'd used my influence to get Mike on the team.
24 I was still trying to decide whether to show up for the game or not when the bell rang. The students
timidly walked to my desk to hand in their themes-most of them just reaching half the page-before
they ran out of the classroom. Then the principal announced that classes in the afternoon had been
suspended and any-one who wanted to watch the game should go to his office for the tickets. Ten
buses had been rented to shuttle the students and faculty members to the coliseum. All these
resources, for a basketball game.
25 I just rolled my eyes as I started fixing my things. I knew that without Reggie and the rest of our
starting unit, it would be a miracle if we weren't blown off the court during the first ten minutes of
play. I didn't need to preach to Mike anymore. He would learn the hard ways of basketball this
afternoon. And I would be there to watch it.
26 The game started at four. It was held at the Summit in Tumaga. It was the city's biggest stadium,
and it could hold around five thousand people. Today, it seemed as if it were housing ten thousand.
The lines had been clearly drawn. On one side were the blue-clad supporters of our rivals, while our
side was clothed in purple. I was the only one in a yellow shirt. Teachers, students, parents, school
officials comprised the crowd. The city officials were also there. This game had become such a big
deal that the city had come to a halt. Regina and I sat at the lower box, just a few rows away from
 St. Jude's bench. Many people held blue or purple balloons and behind us, the school's cheering
squad was leading the battle cries to counter the battle cries on the other side of the stadium.
27 This was such a waste of time. I could be correcting those gruesome essays or reading a book. But
St. Jude's humiliation was something I needed to watch. Today, I would be vindicated.
28 Regina grasped my hand the moment the announcer called out our team and Mike trotted to the
court. I wanted to pull back my hand, but Regina was really a strong woman. She had been a track
and field star when she was in college and still jogged twenty kilometers every afternoon after work.
When she saw the blank-ness in my eyes and the scowl on my lips, she just shook her head and
released my hand. I knew that she feared that Mike would be in for another frustrating game. His
zero number of minutes on the court this season was fraying his nerves which led to our numerous
fights over basketball.
29 We had fought the night before Game Three. He came in dragging his bag at eleven in the evening.
I deliberately stayed awake so that I could talk to him-try to bring sense into his head.
30 "You have no future in basketball," I said.
31 "Dad, I'm tired," Mike said. "I don't wanna fight."
32 "I'm just telling you, you shouldn't pin all your hopes on that sport," I said.
33 "I'm not," Mike said. "Now can I just go to my room and sleep? I have to wake up early tomorrow."
34 "No, Mike," I said. "Until you tell me that you'll quit the varsity after this game."
35 “No," Mike said. "I love the game."
36 "You haven't even played a single second," I pointed out. "That time for practice should have been
spent on studying. Your grades are slumping."
37 Mike straightened his shoulders and loomed over me. It's really frightening to have your son looking
down on you.
38 "You know what I think of you, Dad?" Mike asked. "Not much."
39 "You hold your tongue-"
40 "You think your students like you? They don't. They hate you. I hate you!"
41 "You will take that back."
42 "Or what, Dad?"
43 I never got to answer that question because Regina came down and placed herself between Mike
and me. She told Mike to go to his room.
44 "He's your son," Regina said. "You should show him your support."
45 I shrugged. "Is he?" Then I started walking away. When Regina and Mike were together, they looked
so alike, with their long bodies, narrow faces, and big ears-they looked every inch mother and son.
On the other hand, I looked like a sack of rice with a belt tied around the waist. Whenever I looked
at Mike, I couldn't see anything of myself in him.
46 "What's that supposed to mean?" Regina asked.
47 "Nothing," I said as I stepped out of the house. "Nothing at all."
48 The game began and when I looked at the starting line-ups of each side, I shook my head. We were
going to lose this one, badly. No amount of cheering would change the fact that we were sending
out our second stringers-guys who'd barely played this season.
49 The first quarter was horrible to behold. St. Jude scored the first basket which sent our side of the
stadium into frenzy. Then, for the next four minutes, my crowd watched in stunned silence as the
Ateneans put on a basketball clinic. Turnovers, fouls, bad breaks, lousy shooting all came from our
side while the Eagles couldn't seem to do anything wrong. After the first seven minutes, Coach
Robert sent in three new players. But the massacre continued. It was only at the end of the quarter
when St. Jude managed to make a small run. The quarter ended with St. Jude trailing Ateneo, 13-
30. I wanted so much to cheer Ateneo, but I restrained myself.
50 "Nice game, huh?" I muttered. "Now we'll see if praying to St. Jude does work."
51 "Couldn't you be at least supportive of your son?" Regina hissed as the Ateneans went wild. They
were going to wallop us and they knew it.
52 I looked for our school officials. I spotted our principal, Father Sarino, who wore a grim mask and
I wondered whether he would now listen to me and strengthen the other sports programs instead of
just focusing on basketball.
53 The second quarter was worse. By halftime, St. Jude was trailing by 35 points at 29-64. As our
cheering squad took over the floor to give a demonstration, we could see that even they had lost
their enthusiasm for the game. After their glum presentation, a bunch of Ateneans danced to the
 tune of "Stars" in the middle of the court as an intermission number. The song seemed dared, but it
didn't matter as they were naturally enthusiastic due to their team's big lead. Still, their routine was
terrible to behold. My head and bladder started to ache.
54 I excused myself at the start of the third quarter to relieve my aching bladder. It was going to be
more of the same anyway. I wondered whether I should even go back. I deliberately delayed going
back into the stadium. After using the grimy toilet, I snuck out of the coliseum and smoked.
55 As I walked back into the stadium, I heard shouting and screaming. Perhaps our team had finally
struck back and was engaging the Eagles in another brawl. It would be such a fitting end to our
dreadful season. It happened sometimes. When a team was way behind, tempers suddenly flared
and every action would be construed as an act of war and the games got rougher and more than
hearts and egos would be shattered. I hurried past the crowded aisles and returned to my wife's side,
certain that I would see blood on the floor.
56 I was wrong. As I looked at the scoreboard, it seemed that during my absence, Carlo, the back-up
point guard had caught on fire and ignited a 20-4 run. Carlo had been my student before and while
he was not a good student, he had the ability to lead others. He was passionate and hot-tempered
and now; he used that com-bination to control the rhythm of the game. Unlike Mike, he would go
far in the basketball world.
57 In a matter of minutes, St. Jude had chopped down what seemed like an insurmountable lead and
was about to make a game out of it. The score stood at 49-68, a huge enough lead, but so much
better than the half-time score. St. Jude's fans were coming alive when Carlo intercepted another
pass and initiated the team's vaunted running game. With another triple, our crowd exploded into
cheers as the Ateneans sued for time.
58 The remainder of the third quarter was an exchange of baskets and free throws. St. Jude's momentum
had been stunted by the time-out. In my mind, I commend-ed the Atenean coach. Great strategy.
But as I watched the crowd around me, the enthusiasm that had been beaten out of our school all
year long was back on everyone's faces. Regina was on her feet cheering. I looked at my benched
son once more. He would not play this game. He would log zero minutes this season. All those hours
 of practice, lessons missed, opportunities for a better future had been lost for practically nothing. I
was right after all.
59 Just before the end of the third quarter, Carlo got an-other steal and hurried across the court in an
attempt to get a last shot in. There were two defenders in front of him, but he seemed like a man
possessed; he wove past one defender and went for a lay-up. The other defender though had other
things in mind as he hooked Carlo's arm sending both of them crashing to the floor. All three referees
blew their whistles as they called the deliberate foul. Carlo still managed to score the basket, but as
he got up from the floor, he went over to the player who had fouled him and pushed him on the
chest. The other player naturally retaliated and it took all three referees to step between them before
both benches jumped in. As Carlo was being led away, he managed to break away from the referee
and landed a punch on the other player's face. Carlo was awarded two technical fouls and ejected
from the court. The player who had fouled him was also ejected due to the deliberate foul.
60 The entire stadium was filled with hissing and booing as both sides didn't like the calls the referees
had made. Looking at the players and coaches on both sides, I knew that one more provocative act
would lead to a repeat of the Game Two brawl. As the chosen players on both sides sank in their
free throws, the stadium suddenly felt like a sauna.
61 The quarter ended with St. Jude trailing 60-75. Our team had trimmed the deficit but paid a high
price. The last veritable star (more like a white dwarf actually) on the team was out.
62 I saw Coach Robert biting his fingernails as he looked at his bench and studied his remaining
players.
63 Even from the distance, I heard him say "Ramirez, you're up."
64 Mike perhaps couldn't believe his ears because Coach Robert barked his name once more before
Mike stood up and took off his jacket.
65 I felt a thousand pairs of eyes move from Mike to me and my face burned. I really wasn't sure
whether it was out of shame or pride. Probably a mixture of both. But I remained seated and watched
as my son walked to the officials' table to make the substitution.
66 As Mike stepped on the court, he looked into the crowd, trying perhaps to find us. Regina waved
and Mike saw her. He nodded and trotted to his teammates.
67 When the horn sounded, signaling the beginning of the last and final quarter, I felt my chest tighten.
I felt my stomach churn. Ten minutes. That was all that was left of this season. And my son was
going to see it until the end.
68 Mike started tentatively. He committed a turnover, made a feeble attempt to grab the ball, and was
called for the reach-in foul. On the next possession, he traveled. I saw him raising a hand to calm
down Coach Robert who was beginning to hurl invectives from the sidelines.
69 Get him out of there! I wanted to shout. If Mike buried us any deeper, I would never hear the end of
it. He would be ridiculed mercilessly. I would be ridiculed too.
70 The Eagles scored again and now St. Jude was behind by 19 points. Mike, then, slowed the game,
which I felt was a stupid thing to do, as St. Jude was playing catch-up. Even in his beloved sport,
he couldn't do anything right. I really worried about him. But he'd chosen to drink this cup of poison.
71 Mike stood there, dribbling the ball, shouting instructions to his teammates, pointing to imaginary
places on the court. I noticed that the Eagles had begun to slack off on defense. The shot clock was
down to two seconds and coming off a screen, Mike passed the ball to James-a senior-who scored
on a lay-up. Our side gave a small cheer but all of sudden, the cheer became a roar when Mike stole
the inbound pass, stepped back and launched a three-point shot. In the ensuing play, Mike stole the
ball again and racing against three Eagles, he stopped just beyond rainbow territory and launched
another three.
72 When it went in, it was the turn of the Ateneo side to be horrified. St. Jude was down by eleven with
seven minutes left in the game.
73 Call for a time-out, I nearly screamed to the Ateneo coach. Just call a goddamn timeout to stall St.
Jude's momentum.
74 The Eagles were panicking as their offense quickly crumbled and they missed three straight
attempts. James grabbed the rebound and hurled it towards a streaking Mike who caught it, moved
into the rainbow territory once more and fired another three.
75 This time Ateneo sued for time.
76 About time, I fumed. I looked at Regina who was looking down at me. She had this strange look on
her face. It was as if she knew what I was thinking and she slightly shook her head, her eyes filled
with suspicion. I guess I hadn't mastered the stoic's face yet.
77 Just as I suspected, the time-out didn't help Ateneo. Mike stole the inbound pass once more and
dished out a perfect assist to our team's center, Leonard, who punctuated the entire run with a one-
handed dunk. Two possessions later, St. Jude went berserk when the team took the lead for the first
time since the first basket.
78 He's never gonna listen to me again, I thought. If St. Jude wins this game, Regina would just
encourage him, and he would continue undermining my authority. I needed to help Ateneo. I needed
to make sure that Mike would cool down long enough. I put my hands into my pock-et. A smile
tugged at the corners of my lips. I knew what I had to do.
79 The game resumed and saw several exchanges of the lead. I saw some women crying and clutching
their rosaries. Both of our schools were Catholic schools, both were praying to the same god, each
hoping for a different result.
80 As I looked at the court, I only saw Mike and the dazzling display of generalship he had brought to
a team now lacking both in star and fire power. He was calm, poised, and intense all at the same
time. The other team seemed to realize that Mike was now a threat and they gave him the best
compliment possible-two defenders hounded him every time he had the ball. But Mike had not
missed a shot and he continued scoring. It was shaping up to be a perfect season for him.
81 Somewhere deep within, I felt the stirrings of some-thing I was quite unfamiliar with. The noise,
the drama, the comeback-everything was falling into place and trying to get me to drop the whole
adversarial act, and just get up on my feet and cheer. But another part of me knew that I must do
something to keep Mike from becoming one of those boys who dreamed of nothing more than
playing basketball and never doing anything with their lives because of that dream. I had to rescue
him from himself.
82 When it was announced that the game had reached its last two minutes, everyone was up, even the
mayor and the city council. I finally stood up and Regina surprised by my action, held on to my arm.
She didn't see the coin in my hand.
83 When St. Jude's side of the court erupted into cheers and fist pumps after another basket, I placed
the coin between my thumb and my index finger, waited for a heartbeat, and flicked it towards the
court.
84 It was the equivalent of the Hail Mary pass in basketball, but something else seemed to have been
guiding me that day because the coin hit one of the Ateneo players right on the head. The player
stopped dribbling and held his head. The coin had broken through his skin and he was heavily
bleeding.
85 The entire stadium descended into madness.
86 Game officials and security personnel immediately went between the two teams. But the coin I'd
launched into the court was an irresistible force. Others began launching coins, bottles, and other
debris into the court. In a few seconds, it resembled a garbage dump.
87 Mike covered his head and followed his teammates as both teams were sent back to their locker
rooms.
88 I did this for you, I wanted to tell him. I did this for your own good. Life was a constant
disappointment-Mike should learn that lesson as early as now.
89 I could feel Regina's eyes on me, but I refused to look at her. Her grip on my arm tightened, her
nails digging into my flesh. I continued ignoring her as I watched as the court filling up with detritus.
This was my handiwork -I wanted everyone to look upon it and despair.
90 The game was stopped for thirty minutes.
91 The presidents of both schools chastised everyone in the stadium and said that there would be
consequences for everyone who'd participated in the debris-throwing incident: Already I could see
security personnel approaching students and teachers from both sides, and taking down names. The
mayor took the microphone and started blabbering threats. Koko was looking at me.
92 I disentangled myself from Regina's grip, and began to move towards the exit.