The Final Score: Gladly lost in the Jones Cup celebration



“People let out shrieks whose meaning derived not from dictionaries but the vocabulary of euphoria.”

Philip Goldberg

This is Next Year

 

For once, there are no fingers to point because there is no one to blame. For once, there is nothing to rationalize. There is no need to say, “Let’s get ‘em next time.” No one needs to state, “Almost but not quite.” We joined the Jones Cup. We competed against the United States, Iran, Korea, Japan, Jordan, and Chinese Taipei. We won. I don’t know what to do now. Shed a tear? Or just sit back and drift.

 

Here’s my plan. I’m shutting off my brain for 24 hours. I don’t wish to think about anything. I believe we deserve not to. Moving forward can wait. Thinking long-term can wait. The evaluation of a championship can wait. Extensive interviews with returning players and coaches from the Jones Cup will help paint a clearer picture of what transpired. Clarity, after all, is good.

 

But can we put clarity on hold? Even for just a moment.

 

I am enjoying the vagueness of this victory. Most fans witnessed it from television screens, laptops and tablets. We don’t mind the absence of finer details. We relished following the games frame-by-frame or tweet-by-tweet. Our digital versions of what happened mesh with emotional expectations. Our hopes shaped likely by the scars of continued heartache. We might each have a personal idea of how we won. Such notions might not accurately match with what happened. But our team beat a United States selection to win the tournament. We saw it unfold. We celebrate the achievement. Scrutiny can wait.

 

The thought stays with us forever. You know, that curse of undeserved success. Mark Frost wrote about “that old familiar feeling of delayed but inevitable doom” among wounded sports fans. We hoped to win that game last Sunday night. Yet we were ready, with airbags, helmets, gas masks and all, for the impact. Anguish was always a possibility.

 

What is this madness? We don’t have to console each other. We don’t have to say opponents are too tall. We don’t have to close our eyes and endure the blow. In the Jones Cup, there’s a difference between third-best and second-best from the best. I’m dazed to have seen the distinction.

 

I can’t seem to write a proper column using the jargon of glee. I’m affected by the jolt of unexpected triumph. I can’t wait to hear the stories from Chot Reyes, Marcus Douthit or Gabe Norwood. I can’t wait to tell Jeff Chan and Gary David that fans back in the Philippines eagerly raised their arms each time Jeff and Gary fired three-point shots. I can’t wait to tell LA Tenorio that he’ll tower over Dwight Howard any day.

 

Putting things in perspective, however, oh that can wait. My logic is on a victory leave. Don’t we deserve to not think of anything for the next 24 hours? I am lost in euphoria. I hope you are too. - GMA News