The Tale of Ginebra's Never Say Die!

The Living Legend Robert Jaworski was a former playing coach for Ginebra, the PBA's most popular team known for its Never Say Die attitude. This is how his legacy began..

In 1985, an iconic game cemented his status. Jaworski busts his lip at the tail end of  2nd quarter. He's rushed to the hospital and get 9 stitches. His team Ginebra takes a nosedive. Suddenly in the 3rd quarter.. Despite the injury, Jaworski returns.

To overcome a more than 10-point disadvantage, he commands his team as both leader and coach. In the 4th quarter the ref calls a foul on Jawo and the audience pelts the floor with coins and batteries. Despite every disadvantage, Jaworski never gives up. And against all odds they score, points after points. And the seemingly unthinkable happens.. Ginebra wins. From this day forth Jaworski becomes synonymous with Never Say Die! This is now the battle cry of his former team Ginebra.

And the once unknown player named Jaworski began his ascend. He embodied the spirit to never give up, something so many of that time so needed to hear. It was then that the sport turn from national love to national obsession.


The Years Gone Dark

Here is my refuge when the world seems to be going downhill. Here is my tabernacle that never condemn nor condone as I bare the oddity of my soul.

An introspection on the last seven years reveals a tumultuous period in my life.
It was a pretty good beginning--from the time we first met in January 2003 until she gave birth to my son in November of the same year. The initial phase was filled with happiness, hope, and dreams. It had given me the inspiration to carve out my own ideal home where love, trust, respect are mutually shared and bestowed. Going into the second year, however, started a whirlwind relationship fostered by acts of jealousy and suspicion. I realized that family life is actually far from being a bed of roses. I had to deal with the situation. I needed to immerse myself into the kind of environment she'd been used to, and I got to stoop down to the level of her mental faculty.

The succeeding years were a vicious cycle. Negativity has taken its tool on her. We clashed over trivial matters. She kept dwelling on the past, making  baseless  accusations of infidelity or any other things that sprang up in her mind. Then  I saw the worst--her desperate attempts to control every aspect of my life. My patience and tolerance reach its zenith. I had to seize the last option before we end up crumbling under our personal quicksand. Second week of May 2010 was the last time I had a glimpse of our house, of her, and of my son I love the most. My great dream had gone obscure--it was hell in disguise.

The repercussion is trapped anew in the portal of my persistent defiance against the tenets of life. I feel like such animosity has turned into a dreadful shadow that chases after me and yearns to annihilate my very existence. But I mustn't let desolation stifle my strength to rise from the rubble. I need to grasp of my own shield, and there, I rest on my laurels..

I dream that one day I might be able to uproot the torn pages, and just let them drift into the abyss of oblivion.