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CHAMPIONS

I did not have a weekend. Spend the past three days shooting a new TV commercial.

After I uploaded our PDI "Freedom" ad last week, I was planning to blog about how we were able to put that together in record time. (Although, maybe I shouldn't say how fast we did that because client might read this entry and say, "Hey! Why can't you do that for our ads?!")

Anyway, will delay that entry for something else... a story I suddenly remember because we found out today that we lost the Tuseran pitch. That was the other project we were working on for the past two weeks. We really felt that we had a really great campaign and that client would like it. Well, they didn't. This is the second time we're lost a Unilab account in a pitch. Last year, we lost Enervon.

So, on the cab ride back to the office I remembered something my friend Rog once told me. (By the way, it was Rog's birthday last Sunday, so maybe that's the reason my brain clicked that hyperlink in my memory banks.)

I met Rog in the Ateneo High School, where we were classmates from 1990 to 1994. Every year, all the sections would compete in the contest hosted by the Dulaang Sibol, the Ateneo High School's theater group. Whenever we'd join these contest, Rog was always our director and head writer. He always rallied the troops and put "the fire" in our bellies to do our best.

From freshman year to junior year, we always ended up in the finals and always went up against the "A"-class, which was composed of the best and brightest students of each year level. And we always ended up getting second place.

During our fourth year, we once again found ourselves in the final round of the contest and we were up against the "A"-class.

We really thought that was going to be the year we were going to win first place.

We did.

Kind of.

It was a tie.

So, we kinda won and kinda didn't.

After the play, every one went back to the classroom to dump the props, change out of costume, and get our stuff, so we could all head home.

Rog congratulated and thanked everyone for giving their best.

He was the last one to leave the classroom.

Walking down the dimly-lit corridor of the high school, he saw the small silhouette of Mr. Pagsanhan approaching him. Mr. Pagsi, as he's more fondly called, is the founder and moderator of the Dulaang Sibol. He also used to be the moderator of the "A"-class during their freshmen year.

Mr. Pagsi looked up at Rog through his thick eyeglasses, smiled and said, "Congratulations!"

Rog shook and his hand and weakly said, "Thanks."

"My A-Boys are good, yes?" Mr. Pagsi asked.

Rog just nodded, too tired and too drained to answer.

"My A-Boys do not know defeat. They are champions."

Mr. Pagsi put his hand on Rog's shoulder and said, "You and your boys know defeat and you know it well." He looked Rog in the eye and declared, "You are more."

Rog said thanks and said good night and they parted ways at the gate.

The bitter taste of defeat is never easy to swallow. But somehow, if we don't let it get the better of us, it makes us stronger.

Thanks Rog. Thanks for that story. Happy birthday, wherever you are.

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