by Luis G. Dato
To us at lo, those were the halcyon years,
The Golden Age which Memory endears,
Of titans clashing in the wild uproar,
Where be they now, the Bikol Meets of yore?
With pouch and flabby, diabetic arm,
We now no longer to the gauntlet warn,
But only to the hocha, gin and bear,
Where be today the stars of yesterday?
We ride too often and we drink too much,
Our lungs, like putty, wobble at a touch,
No muscle for the leap above the bar,
The mighty heave to hurl the discuss far.
In practice games and try outs we don’t come,
Instead first hour its “Drink Manila Rum!”
And cynics of defeat and victory,
We Coca-Cola sip, “The drink for me!”
