One Sunday morning back in the early 1990s, we heard that Mang Tony was coming to join us in our weekly badminton game. He was a kababayan, a badminton buddy of my father and my uncle, but was then residing in Manila to tend to his business. He arrived with his son, Jojo, a tall and lean chap in his 20s. He's a very good player, we were told. Everybody in his family plays badminton. Hmm... that may be so, but it doesn't necessarily mean he's THAT good. Turned out that Jojo Mance was RP Singles No. 1 at the time and he was going to play with us weekend warriors! All right, I take it back. He must really be THAT good.

The venue was formerly a pelota court so only two sides were buffered against the wind and the rays of the sun. Good badminton courts were hard to find then, especially in Biñan, Laguna so we made do despite the additional opponents – Mr. Gusts and Ms. Glare. True enough, nobody could withstand the father-and-son team. As there were practically no televised badminton matches during that era, it was my first time to watch a player move – no, glide on the court - swiftly and effortlessly, it seemed. Compared to this display of finesse, our footwork seemed like that of chickens – the decapitated variety. And his deft and deceptive strokes were remarkable to us yokels. Not to mention the hard smashes he occasionally let loose.

But more astounding was his demeanor. Aggressive, but not loud-mouthed. He was no android either; he affably acknowledged good plays of his partner and even his opponents. We didn't see tantrums or self-berating scenes whenever a less-than-perfect shot was made. Which is quite rare nowadays. After the oldies, we (younger players) were next - to have a whack at it, as it were. But this time, he went one-on-two with us.

Uhmmm … maybe we have a chance to beat him after all, we mused. That thought quickly vaporized when the game started and he quickly piled on the points. As my partner and I were basically all-power-and-no-strategy players then, we virtually telegraphed our intentions to him during every rally. Well … not every rally, really … there was one point when we finally got to serve. Jojo anticipated a short serve so he was poised to lunge at the net for the kill when I had begun my service motion. But I executed a pretty good flick serve, which surprised him (and most of all, me!) The shuttle sailed in a textbook offensive arc just beyond his reach and landed just inside the service court.

Uh-oh. Instead of being elated, I thought grimly – now, you've done it. He's going to whip you and your partner for that. Lintek lang ang walang ganti. But surprisingly, he just laughed softly to himself and nodded at us in recognition of the point. No grimacing. No menacing grin. He even returned the shuttle to us for our next serve properly. Kakaiba talaga!? These days an opponent might slam the bird into the net in disgust or begrudgingly hit the bird back to you, i.e. hit it out of your reach. Anyone out there who could relate? Okay, okay … you can put your hands down now.

Anyway, after our single-game match , he gave us tips on footwork, grip, strokes, strategy .…. in a casual, unassuming manner. But what he didn't mention, we learned by example. Sportsmanship. Character. Play hard but still be agreeable to your opponents. Yes, even to your doubles partner….especially your doubles partner.

As we bid each other goodbye after the game, we thanked father and son for playing with us. Today, I thank them for helping me sustain my love for the sport. Just a little kindness really goes a long way, doesn't it? The final score? Ahhh ..….. oo nga pala! Jojo whipped us 15-3. Yet somehow, we all went home winners.