Done, While I Weight

Time stamp: as of this post, I weigh in at 218 pounds.

A reluctant admission follows. I am now factually overweight.

A few hours earlier, I accompanied a colleague to the office clinic. He was feeling a bit waned due to lack of sleep and had wanted to have his blood pressure checked. Luckily, it turns out his B.P. was lingering just below the threshold. As the company nurse educated him about the perils of a hedonistic, destructive lifestyle, I, out of boredom, climbed onto the weighing scale to see how much I weighed.

As we left the clinic, what immediately came to my mind was something seemingly irrelevant and at the same time utterly obvious – basketball.

Sure, I play basketball, or should I say “played” a few years back. You may begin to infer several motivations for this particular post, not far-fetched of them being the realization of weight gain has led me to belabor my sudden limitations of pursuing sports and other physically strenuous activities, which I would expound shortly, thus this blog. Or alternatively, you may infer that cognizance of one's obesity has challenged me to pursue sports and other physically strenuous activities, which I would be detailing later, thus this blog. Or yet alternatively, the knowledge has elevated me to a higher plane of existence inspiring a sincere appreciation of health and a re-evaluation of my unhealthy lifestyle, which I will be expounding later on, thus this blog. I assure you, however, that although I admit such information has provoked a sense of self-control particularly on my food intake, my thought patterns are not usually as straightforward. To those hoping for weight-loss or health-enhancement tips, this post will disappoint. The rest of you, please carry on.

Flashback to the early 1990s. Almost two decades ago, when dial-up connections and the Internet were virtually unheard of, there was the Philippine Basketball Association (PBA). As far as the people of my generation were concerned, there were only two teams that mattered at the time – Alaska and Ginebra. And of course, there was Sonny Jaworski.

Jawo’s team, Ginebra, was suffering from a losing streak against teams with younger and more versatile players. But people still watched the PBA anyway because of Jawo. Not so much for his skill than for his insufferable personality and showmanship. Jawo was a pro-league cager who had wiles and guiles of a street-ball player, a quality that endeared him to many Filipino fans. He played physical and dirty. He was always raring for a brawl and would spit literally upon any opponent. To this date, he is considered the most popular, most charismatic player/coach in PBA history. I say this for a fact that when Jawo retired from basketball in 1998 to join a different arena that was the Philippine Senate, the PBA died. None of the teams mattered. Ginebra didn’t matter. I stopped watching the PBA and lost interest in basketball altogether.

Many thought that in 1995, Ginebra would get its much needed break when they drafted 7-footer E.J. Feihl. Turns out their search for a key Center would come later the following year in the guise of the 6’ 9” Marlou Aquino. But despite the disappointing performance of Feihl, he was actually the first person who came to mind this morning as I took a mental snapshot of where the meter settled on the scale.

Renowned basketball commentator and sports broadcaster Quinito Henson was also a fixture in the PBA and another reason to watch the games. My father often permitted me to bring my dinner plate in front of the TV, especially when Ginebra was playing. Quinito’s near-American accent, knee-jerk witticisms and not to mention close-to-absurd basketball jargon nicely complimented every bit of hardcourt action. There was never a dull moment when Quinito anchored. In one of Ginebra's games, I recall Quinito had thus commented about E.J. Feihl. Short of saying Jawo's Center was close to useless if only he wasn't tall: “Just look at E.J. Feihl, 250 pounds of pure meat.”

This was absolutely hilarious then. It made me laugh as I recalled it on our way out of the clinic. I stand an inch shy of six feet. Given this height, I can look bulky to a certain degree and still get away with it (or at least no one will risk saying this in front of my face). If one were to look hard enough, one could still see in me vague traces of a figure that once graced the gym. I don’t feel heavy at all, although occasionally I feel winded, overall I feel great.

Perhaps the human body grows accustomed to gradual changes they become unnoticeable. Like ordinary workers who have done their jobs so routinely and for so long that despite performing so well they remain unappreciated. If I attempted it, I probably wouldn’t be able to hang on to that regulation-height goal the way I used to during my prime with such ease and elegance. If you must know, I was part of my hometown's lineup for the Inter-Barangay, the highest point in my basketball career.

In any case, using E.J. Feihl as my point of reference leads me to conclude that considering my height, I am indeed overweight. Only a twenty-or-so pound disparity between two objects with a good 12-feet difference in height is an obvious incongruity. If you’re wondering what’s the point of this post, moral of the story, denouement and such, your interests would be best served by the last sentence preceding this one. That I managed to squeeze together three synonyms in a single sentence while making perfect sense is of course no small feat.▼