Go Team!

At first I wondered what I was doing up on the bleachers, lost in a sea of pink shirts and pink balloons. I was certainly here "for compliance," I thought, as I stewed in the gym.

Then the pep squad competition started. And before I knew it, I was on my feet, egging on the Pink Team and booing the rest. Call it mob culture, but it really, really felt good to shout, to cheer, to jeer even.



The last time I shouted myself hoarse was close to 20 years ago, during the Varsitarian's Vakvakan sa Vaguio. Between then and now, I was happy to coast along, to laugh hard, to live it up, to love. But never to let loose.

For six days, during the intercolor sportsfest that had the corniest of themes, I was part of a team. A fiercely competitive team, if I may say so. I almost signed up for the obstacle course, but soon realized that I'm (probably) not as limber anymore. And that I'd be running against girls and boys who are reflections of my 20-year-old self.

I may shout "Go Team!" until my vocal chords give in. But I don't think I can outrun anyone. Not until I get my steroid boost anyway...