Let's talk sports
I didn't think I'd ever be the kind of person who would be emotionally affected by sports outside of UAAP (#UPFight!!!) but in the last year or so, there's been a marked shift in the kind of "content" (should I even call it content?) that I've enjoyed consuming. I'm now confidently in my sports fan era.
Antecedent Facts: It all started with the 2024 Olympics and our sports streaming subscription. What was supposed to be background noise while working and doing chores turned into full-on standing ovations in the living room. I was screaming at the screen during the swimming men's and women's finals, stayed up late to see Carlos Yulo win 2 gold medals, and suddenly had very strong opinions about countries I previously couldnāt locate on a map. In a span of two weeks, I was knee-deep in slow-mo replays of synchronized diving and learning the scoring system for fencing.
It helped too that I suddenly became so invested in F1 and MotoGP, thanks to my husband. Sharing the same household (and the same television screen) meant that I couldn't escape these athletes and their ever-evolving narratives for each season. What started as passive viewing quickly became an emotional commitment. I found myself picking favorite riders and drivers, learning the stats, the records, the tire strategies, the team politics, the behind-the-scenes drama.
Turns out, sports had the makings of a literary work. The arcs! The foils! The deeply flawed protagonists who were either chasing legacy or redemption!
I guess thatās what did it for me: the stories. Beneath the medals and the podiums are people who train in obscurity, lose in silence, and sometimes win in ways that feel impossible. And in a world that often feels chaotic and unwritten, thereās something deeply reassuring, even moving, about watching someone cross a finish line or finally break a serve.
Tennis
I still cannot get over the Roland-Garros final matches, both for the men's and the women's.
Let's start off with the Gauff/Sabalenka match. I'll admit, I wasn't rooting for anyone in particular between the two of them, although generally I tend to want to cheer for underdogs. So clearly, the scales were tipped slightly towards Coco for me. (It helped that her and Alex Eala were so fun together at the Italian Open!) I was so thrilled that Coco was able to pull away from that fight and absolutely dominate in the second and third sets. I thought it was going to be closer, but seeing Sabalenka crash out and visibly panic - almost as if she couldn't believe that Coco had a response to every attack - it was only a matter of time. Coco played smarter, managed better, and took complete control of the momentum. I'm glad she finally secured her second Grand Slam, and I hope she gets to #1 soon enough (or at least holds on to that #2 a little while longer.)
But the story of Roland-Garros was definitely that Alcaraz/Sinner final. Wow. Wow. Wooow. First off, I like them both a lot. Iāve followed their rise with equal admiration: Sinner with his icy precision and quiet grit, Alcaraz with his elastic energy and wild, joyful shot-making. It was like watching two elemental forces collide: fire and ice, instinct and control. No villain, no underdog. Just two future legends climbing towards their peak, pushing each other to the brink.
Federer was right: The game of tennis itself won that day. I wasnāt fully tuned in yet during the Federer/Nadal era. I knew them, of course, and understood the weight of that rivalry (as well as their legacy being cemented alongside Serena Williams, Novak Djokovic, and ok, maybe also Andy Murray). But this was different because I was here for it, watching it unfold in real-time. And thereās something awe-inspiring about realizing you're witnessing the early chapters of a future epic rivalry, not reading about it after the fact, but holding your breath as itās being written, point by point. The three match points. The absolute locking in. The recovery. The tiebreak. It was all ridiculously, deliciously intense. Every time I feel defeated or in a slump at work, Iām going to think of that moment: Alcaraz down 2-0, 40-0 in the game, and instead of folding, he just flipped a switch. Dialed in. Dug deep. And clawed his way back. It was defiant, almost mythic. Proof that momentum is an illusion, and that sometimes, belief is enough to change the entire narrative.
I think I tuned in to tennis at just the right time. Excited for Wimbledon! And the US Open!
Formula 1
Letās just get this out of the way: am I only watching because I have a huge, massive, completely understandable (but occasionally obsession-adjacent) crush on Carlos Sainz? No. But alsoā¦ kind of. I probably wouldnāt have paid attention to the F1 races my husband were watching if it werenāt for that face. He caught my eye, and before I knew it, I was watching entire races ājust to see how he did.ā What started as a casual scroll turned into full-blown fandom.
Like I mentioned earlier, what really pulled me into sports lately, especially Formula 1, are the stories. And Carlos Sainz? The guy is a walking narrative arc; he has history, lore, aura; he's comedy and drama all in one package. He's the son of a world-renowned champion rally driver. He's had to prove that he's not just "Junior," but his own man, carving his own path outside his father's large, looming shadow. Heās been passed around the grid: Toro Rosso, Renault, McLaren, Ferrari, and now Williams. And yet, wherever he goes, the team somehow ends up better off. Heās not flashy, not always the headline, but he delivers. (He was the only non-Red Bull driver to win a grand prix in 2023! #NeverForget). So yeah, it stung a little when Ferrari announced they were letting him go. Itās the kind of plot twist that would feel too cruel if it were fiction, but somehow makes him even more compelling in real life. This is why I'm so much more invested in his "redemption arc" at Williams. He's slowly getting used to the car, and while he's been quite unlucky the past few races, it's fascinating to see a former bottom-dweller team finally rise up the ranks. The way I feel about rooting for Williams is exactly how it felt rooting for the UP Fighting Maroons back in its 0-14 era. Equal parts "delulu" and earnest, fueled by pure hope, historical pain, and a burning desire to prove everyone wrong.
The thing is, Iāve been invested in F1 long enough now that Iām not just a Carlos Sainz "stan." Iām following so many arcs at this point, and I genuinely want to see how they all play out every season. Thereās Max, trying to keep it together in the middle of Red Bullās slow implosion (and maybe even losing the Championship). Thereās Oscar Piastri quietly leading McLarenās charge for the WDC with his ice-cold, unbothered approach. Thereās Alonso, still fighting, still hoping for a good enough car to give him one last podium - maybe even one last win. Thereās the beautiful chaos of Ferrari, and observing the slow, creeping realization on Hamiltonās face every week shows that maybe, just maybe, this wasnāt the right move.
Then there are the rookies like Kimi Antonelli, who you canāt help but root for, and the longshots like Nico HĆ¼lkenberg and Alex Albon ā both crazy talented, both so overdue for a podium it physically hurts. And there are the team principals who, in their own right, are such interesting characters as well. Thereās just so much going on. So many layers. So many storylines that unfold race by race, press conference by press conference, radio message by radio message.
And Iāve gone full spiral. Reddit threads? Read. Podcasts? Queued. Merch? Bought and purchased without guilt. Articles, interviews, fan theories? Consumed daily like vitamins. Itās kind of wild ā after years of not really being a āsports person,ā I suddenly get it. The thrill, the heartbreak, the deep emotional investment in people youāll probably never meet. Is this what Iāve been missing out on this whole time?
Which brings me to this crazy, pinch-me, almost-too-good-to-be-true-but-very-much-happening update: weāre going to watch the Suzuka Grand Prix in person!!! Weāre planning a trip to Japan in late March, all timed around race weekend. Kind of an impulsive decision, but not really, since it's something we've wanted to do anyway. We just went for it, in the spirit of āwhy not, life is short, treat yoā self."
Weāre going with friends whoāve done it before (pros, basically), so they already know the drill. Where to stay, what to do, how to get there. Weāve pencil-booked our hotel, and thank goodness we did, because prices have tripled since then. Itās insane. Iām already buzzing just thinking about the engines, the energy, and the sheer joy of yelling āLET'S GO WEEYUUUMS!" Crossing my fingers that it all goes smoothly. I've deleted my Shopee, Lazada, and Carousell apps just to avoid temptation and really save up. Can't waaait!
And maybe thatās what Iāve been chasing all along: not just the thrill of the sport, but the joy of caring deeply about something. Of finding community in comment sections, of counting down to weekends, of seeing narratives play out in real time. Iām so glad I finally "unlocked" this world.
No one put it better than Pope Leo XIV in his June 15 tweet:
"In our competitive society, where it seems that only the strong and winners deserve to live, sport also teaches us how to lose. It forces us, in learning the art of losing, to confront our fragility, our limitations and our imperfections. It is through the experience of these limits that we open our hearts to hope. Athletes who never make mistakes, who never lose, do not exist."
It's the thrill of watching winners and losers. Sports bring us together because overcoming setbacks is such a human experience. What a joy, what a joy. To care, to hope, to watch it all happen.