Blog ► Rizal rocks and rolls with the Azkals

With whatever little voice I could muster, I spoke into the microphone of a television reporter and told her of a rockin’ Rizal Memorial Coliseum that cheered fanatically as the country’s beloved Azkals made history by making it to the second round of the World Cup qualifiers.

I told her of the booming roar that came after each of the four goals by the Azkals, the loudest coming when Chieffy Caligdong, fittingly, broke down the locks of the floodgates in the 19th minute and got the Philippine booters rolling.

You’re not going to see the clip, though. I sensed the interview was heading to the basketball-vs-football debate so I simply told her I wasn’t into such debates.

Anyway, I did tell her that I had never seen Rizal rock and roll the way it did Sunday afternoon. I think the last time the stadium got really loud was when Lydia de Vega was feeding Southeast Asian rivals with a steady diet of red dust during the 1981 Manila SEA Games.

Sunday afternoon, the historic stadium was packed again.

You could sense the crowd was going to be something special when just as kickoff commenced, the rains poured. And nobody budged. There were a few of those who scampered into the exit tunnels and underneath advertising banners on the waist-high walls at the back of the bleachers.

But the marching band played on and as the Azkals went on attack mode early on and the roars of the crowd grew louder, everybody hurried back to their numbered seats and cheered in the rain.

Less than 20 minutes later, Caligdong gave them a really good reason to go screaming crazy.

It was an experience like no other.

Glenn Gacutan, a 26-year-old bike junkie, former Best Clinic coach and a P.E teacher from Xavier School, who was with his girlfriend Justine, a fashionable financial analyst from the Power Sector Assets and Liability Management, jumped like he was losing his wits on the wet cement of the bleachers section after the Caligdong goal—and after every other Azkals goal thereafter.

The audience did the wave, which at one time circled the stadium twice. Chants of “Pilipinas!” rained on the pitch, usually starting from the marching band and then building up into a thundering crescendo that impressed even the Azkals’ foreign coach. At halftime, a giant Philippine flag was lifted from one end of the unsheltered section of the audience to the other.

And for 90 minutes of Azkals domination, no one sat down.

Everyone was on his feet the entire match—and when the Azkals circled the track oval after the final whistle to give thanks to a tremendous show of support by football fans.

As people filed out of the stadium, everyone was dripping wet, leg-weary and hoarse.

Normally, such a combination would cause tempers to flare. Sunday afternoon, the combination left people giddy.

Meanwhile, our favorite moment of the day: As Caligdong walked slowly to our side of the audience for a corner kick, our section went bonkers and started cheering “Chieffy! Chieffy!” in unison. Isn’t it awesome when one of your favorite Azkals is nicknamed “Chieffy” and a thousand screaming fans chant his name?

Least favorite moment? When the speakers blared that rip-off of an anthem for plagiarism (redundancy intentional) popularized by some band and some reality show. I mean, really? A country blessed with ingenious, original artists and that’s the best we can come up with?