The Prometheus Way

What aspects of your cultural heritage are you most proud of or interested in?

There are a few aspects of Filo culture that I regard highly. Bringing pasalubong is at the top of the table. For the uninitiated, this refers to the practice of carrying home goodies if you travel. Whether abroad or nationally, to this day, the tradition persists. This is not customary to my compatriots. Asians, especially the Chinese, also observe this. Other praxes are close family ties, hospitality, our strong Catholic faith, and Spanish influence.

Thoughtful Topher

In the pasr, I’ve travelled on Oz’s east coast and beyond. I always returned with some presents. For instance, I bought my mum a medium printed wallet from New Zealand. I also included some mugs and gourmet items. In Hobart, I bought some aborigine inspired printed shopping bags. From the Salamanca Markets, I scored an Aussie made tapestry body bag. The latter is Aussie made and available only in Hobart. I carried home some chocolates straight from their factory. I got a fridge magnet from the Tassie Botanical Gardens. In Melbourne, I grabbed a beige hemp bag. As a sixth grader, we went on a three-day tour of Manila and Subic, Zambales. The journey was an eye opener. I journaled my experience, and my parents were mighty impressed of my writing. Of course, I returned with some good stuff.

I recall reading an article on the national daily. A young bloke wrote a column entitled ‘Prometheus Curse’. He admitted that Pinoys are big on bringing home goodies. He terms this the ‘Prometheus Curse’. So-named after the legendary god who stole fire from the gods and gave it to humans. He was punished for his crime. The author was livid with said renegade god. He blames him for the death of his relationship. Of course, this could be fiction as the column gives one the freedom to improvise.


Ferrero Rocher made a TV ad derived from this story. The gods were enjoying the luscious choc when it accidentally fell from the heavens. To be enjoyed by humans. In both these tales, the inclusion of a gift empowers humans.


Marlins and Pandas

I learned this tradition from my Dad’s side. He is very thoughtful and always has pasalubong for us. He’s particularly fond of fruits and vegetables. He has planted a sea of green. He was a constant at the bakeshop. Before, in Sydney, he’d always carry home some first-rate seafood. The tradition continued overseas. We ate more seafood then. We would devour blue marlin, fresh tuna, blue swimmer crabs, redfish, mussels, prawns, and other local catches. He eats healthy. He showed us that leafy greens and fresh salads are cool. These days, it’s more salmon and prawns (again), sometimes barramundi or snapper. Not much variety from Coles online.

As mentioned, the Chinese are also known for their thoughtfulness. Remember when President Nixon visited China? Chairman Mao gave him two pandas to take home. No offence, but the late US Prez looked a bit like the cuddly bear. My chiro was gifted tea from China by his Sino clients. A Chinese friend also brought home some goodies during our trips. On Border Security, a Sino guy was questioned at the airport. They verified his relationship with this chick. When he was given the green light, he handed his girl a big stuffed teddy.When my auntie (who’s also my godmother) travelled overseas, she always remembered her relatives. Having a caring auntie is a blessing. My family will forever appreciate her kindness.

When someone hands you a present, you’ll feel pleased. Receiving gifts make a person’s day. It builds relationships and fosters happiness.


Family ties and hospitality

Another important aspect of Filo culture is close family ties. We will always put our brethren first. In western culture, you are expected to leave home upon reaching adulthood. Oriental culture is dissimilar. Discipline is likewise handled very differently in both cultures.

In the Philippines, our elderly are not left in nursing homes. There are no such facilities there. Just as the parents helped in rearing their grandchildren, we look after them like precious gems. As our high school principal once said, ‘You may have knowledge but we have wisdom.’ Furthermore, younger peeps address their elders with po and opo, equivalent to usted in Spanish. We gather their hand and say ‘Mano po’ as a gesture of respect. Though times have changed, the tradition of honouring one’s ancestors has continued.


Moreover, Filipinos are known for their hospitality. Being inviting to a guest is part of our culture. Whether you’re a mansion dweller or you subsist in a shack, visitors can expect a warm cuppa and food. On the off chance of an overseas film crew, they get the royal treatment. Whether it’s cabin crews or a barge guy, a jeepney or tricycle driver, a resort employee or a waitress, you will feel welcomed.


A flock of Catholics

Catholicism retains a strong grip in the country. The Spanish converted our progenitors in the 1500s. At present, only Brazil and Mexico have larger Catholic populations. During Mass, church pews are packed. Pilgrimages to powerful saints inspire stampedes. Some churches, like Baclaran in Paranaque (pictured above), are perpetually standing room only. Malls pause for the Angelus at 12pm and 6pm. Likewise for the Divine Mercy at 3pm.


On Ash Wednesday, crosses on foreheads are ubiquitous. Holy Week sees a mass exodus from Metro Manila to the country. Workers want to be with their family during Easter. The same applies to All Saints Day weekend. Roads are empty on Good Friday. There is no crime on the latter. Manny Pacquaio fights are the only other occurrences of this in Pinas history. One has to look at divorce. Aside from the Vatican, the Philippines is the only country to outlaw divorce. More than any other nation, the sanctity of marriage is upheld.

The Spanish Connection

The Spanish influence is one final aspect. The Philippines was under Spanish rule for over three centuries. As a result, the Pinoy language contains many loan words. Some of our best writers wrote in Spanish. Once, I got some novel chapters printed in the library. The lib assistant asked me if this was a play. The inclusion of Roman numbers might have piqued his curiosity. I told him it was part of a novel in progress.

‘I’ve written books too,’ he said. ‘They’re all in Spanish.’

He was deadpanning.


Spanish wouldn’t be too hard to learn for me, given my exposure to it in Filo. Hard to imagine, but our national hero, Jose Rizal, wrote two complete novels in Castillan. Claro M. Recto also penned works in Spanish. A major Manila artery is named after him. I once tried studying Spanish by listening to some podcasts. I was channeling Bradley Cooper in Limitless. However, I just couldn’t find the time as I was studying full time.

Before I was done with uni, I had an interview with a government agency. Judging from my accent, they asked me if I spoke Spanish. No, I retorted. Quick aside: I was trying to sound Latino. I guess it worked.

The Spanish connection isn’t just linguistic. It’s apparent in the food. Tacos, empanadas, pork crackling, and adobo were all introduced by Mother Spain. The concept of fiesta, siesta, cockfighting, and feast days likewise originated with them. The Spanish flavour adds some spice to our identity.

Take five

I’ve listed five aspects concerning my cultural heritage. Having enumerated them, you now know five more things that make me unique.

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A Man of Many Emojis

What are your favorite emojis?

Before, I used emojis for Yahoo Messenger. Together with MSN, these were the grandfathers of instant messaging (IM). I resumed utilising them with social media, WhatsApp, and other IM apps.

I had a few YM contacts. Some were classmates, one was a clubmate. Others were avid fans of my writing. I was surprised that this lass had invited me. She got my email from our yearbook. We were classmates for all of high school. We rarely spoke. When we did, she always smiled. Looking back, she was dropping hints.


Devil Smile

Once, I was chatting with Gilderoy. I used a devil smiley.

Why?

I’m just asking.

No, why the devil smile?

I just felt like it.

The devil emoji is one of my favourites. It’s got a knowing quality. It makes your chatmate think that they did something. Catches them off-guard. Call it Mona Lisa, if you may. She has history’s most famous smile.

Fighting with Koalas

I also like the koala emoji. The animal is a national treasure, native only to Oz. They’re very cute and cuddly. As their habitat becomes more endangered, fighting for their cause is a no-brainer.

Last week, I talked about my past fanatic. On her Friendster profile, one of her interests was ‘fighting with koalas’.

As mentioned, she went on to study Journalism.

When we holidayed in Melbourne in 2016, I saw a koala in the wild.

Another novel emoji is the alien. I mentioned that my friend was disappointed with The Martian. From the tile, he had hoped to catch some 👽.

My friend chuckled.

He should see War of the Worlds.


Evie

Aside from the latter, I had Evie, a kindred soul. We attended the same Catholic school and were club mates. She was a consistent honour student. Back at uni, we’d chat for hours. We spoke on the phone.

Your voice is very cute, I wrote.

Her reply included a shocked smiley. She thought that I was her former high school classmate, who shared my first name.

Initially, Evie earned a Nursing degree. She passed the board exam. She then studied Law and this time, passed the Bar Exam. Too bad we drifted apart. See also: Wanted: Perfect Chatmate

Thankful

Sometimes, I mobilise the thank you emoji. This is my way of showing appreciation. Whether they’re friends or family, young or older, male or female, it always pays to be grateful.

The thumb up emoji is another common one. I use this on social media posts and messages. This emoji might be simple but it could make someone’s day. It shows your support.


Not for everyone

While useful, there are some situations where emojis aren’t welcome. They should not be found on nonfiction. For instance, they are off-limits on essays, academic papers, and even memoirs. In general, they don’t belong in long-form fiction either. These include novels, plays, and novellas. Some authors use emojis in their work to add some spice. They end up looking like amateurs. Believe me, you won’t see many serious reads that come with emojis.

A while ago, The Emoji Movie came out. Though it fared well at the box office, it won four Raspberries. The flick also has a six percent rating on Rotten Tomatoes. Emoji is often cited as that year’s worst feature. Likewise, the picture is generally viewed as the worst animated film ever. Having seen the trailer, I predicted that it would be an unoriginal train wreck. It appeared as very similar to Inside Out, another animated picture from two years earlier.

Meanwhile, Searching is one picture that balances emojis and screens with a different premise. John Cho stars as the father of a missing teen. The use of media does not detract from the plot. Though there is a fair use of emoji’s, this adds colour.

To be honest, I won’t be alone in finding emojis girly. Hearts, hugs, and kisses aren’t my thing. If you pair an emoji with every story or post, people will get viewer fatigue. Your likes and views would diminish.


‘Hard To Kill

Emojis have been around before hashtags and check ins. The platforms may change, from MSN and Facebook to Twitter (X) and TikTok, but emojis have stuck around. Way back, at the onset of smartphones, we only had a limited range of emojis. Only the basic ones were supplied.

However, as phones became bigger and added RAM, the number of emojis shot up. They would even eclipse the old YM or even MSN.

Status update

These days, people’s faces are always buried on their phones. When I grew up, this wasn’t the case. Back then, it was hard to imagine humans going on meltdown after a social media post. A duchess’s outfit didn’t headline the nightly news. Sportscenter was bigger than YouTube highlights. People still wrote handwritten letters and read the dailies.

Emojis are a sign of the times. They are features of our digital age. When a news story appeals to you, you let people know. When you crest Kilimanjaro, you post about it. When you pass your licensure exam, you include a few thank you’s. When you hit back-to-back threes, you employ fire emojis.

These small faces prove that we have surpassed a modern society. Movies like Back to the Future, Blade Runner, and The Matrix have become reality. We are now truly in a new millennium, with hoverboards, Teslas, and plant based food.

Perhaps emojis have endured since they typify our feelings. In short, there’s the human element. Will they outlive the iPhone or the electric car? Will they outlast their current platforms like Snapchat, TikTok, YouTube, and WhatsApp? Only time will tell.

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‘What’s in a name?’

Where did your name come from?

My first name is Christopher. My parents picked it since we have a short surname. They thought that Christopher would complement Ong, my surname. After all, a full name like my school friend’s, ‘Don An’, doesn’t have a good ring to it. Interestingly, I have an older cousin who’s also named Christopher. His nickname is ‘Tope’ (pronounced toh-peh), or simply ‘Pe. However, my parents insist that the similarity is only by accident. Instead, they drew inspiration from other notable namesakes, namely, Christopher Columbus and Saint Christopher, patron of travellers.

Speaking of Tope, I also had a schoolmate. This was way back in the Chinese school. He was years ahead of me. He loved playing basketball. This guy, Al, kept ‘commentating’ that Tope was making ‘a fadeaway’. He probably watched too much Jordan games. Tope would sometimes joke that ‘This shot is for you’. He’d have to say this a few times as he wasn’t a knockdown shooter.


Wellington Ong

My mum had thought about naming me Wellington. The uniqueness and novelty caught her attention. Like Christopher, Wellington does not have a Filipino translation. For instance, John is Juan and Peter is Pedro. My dad was kind of lukewarm about it. He told her that it was the name of a place. Anyhow, he did not explicitly say that he was against it. To be honest, I could see the allure of Wellington. Yes, it’s a very original appellation. She told me that I would be called Will. This reminds me of a popular scene in Mr Robot. They created this deepfake of then-Prez Obama, who says, ‘Tyler Wellick and Fsociety engaged in this….’

In my two published books, I wrote as Wellington Ong. I don’t consider the latter as my alter ego, merely an extension of myself. Think of it as Kobe’s two numbers: eight and twenty-four. He wore each number for ten seasons.When you break them down, they’re almost equally-matched. Look at it this way: I garnered uni degrees and won writing contests as Christopher. Early on, my published material was also under that name. Meanwhile, my books are under the Wellington banner.

Just Chris

Among my family and grade school classmates, I was known simply as Chris. Filipinos have close family ties and we were regulars at family gatherings. In particular, my dad’s side is quite close. We would often attend birthdays, weddings, fiestas, and holy days. It was like a bigger agape, where we would bring our cooking, cakes, and desserts to share. We would connect with our cousins and exchange stories over meals. During fiestas, pork belly was a mainstay. Other staples were morcon, caldereta, fried chicken, pancit, bihon, rice cakes, palabok, spring rolls, buko salad, and ice cream.


Topher Ong

As a high school freshman, my social studies teacher began addressing me as Topher. Another guy, a transferee, shared this nickname. I would go on to have a much more eventful time. Topher quickly became the norm, both among my peers and also my pedagogues. In senior year, I met my all-time favourite mentor/teacher. We called him Bro. (See also my older post: A Tourist’s Guide to Losing Family) He gave me all the chances that I needed. He was my strongest backer on campus. He fought in my corner and was a good conversationist. He featured my work in our yearbook. Bro was a true friend.

I wrote him an email, saying G’day (standard Aussie greeting). He began his reply with ‘G’day Topher’. I forwarded him my first short story, part of my creative writing tutorial. He loved it. His Yahoo Messenger (YM) avatar was an octopus.


A train story

At uni here in Sydney, I was back to being Chris. I made a number of pals during my time at uni. I mentioned them in my tell-all memoir. They were Mick, Pedro, Beau, Roger, Scott, Hannah, William, and Yuta. Five of them were classmates, one was an old friend, and two were fellow club members. All of them addressed me as Chris.


Once, I had a weekend appointment with my dentist. He called me as I was already late.

‘Where are you, Chris?’

‘I’m at the library.’

Upon saying this, the train announced, ‘STAND CLEAR, doors closing’.

He chuckled.

‘Chris, are you actually on the train?’

I was busted. Good thing they didn’t broadcast the next stop. I told him the truth: that I was meeting up with a friend, to do some shopping.

Social media

On social media, my accounts are under Topher Ong. I use the latter in email addresses and other accounts as well. At this point, changing my name to Wellington would be a cumbersome process. My dad asked me why I picked Wellington for my pen name? I repeated the aforementioned reasons.

‘People will think Wellington wrote your books,’ he admitted.

Some people prefer the hard way and call me Christopher. John, my acupuncturist, prefers this. I told him to call me Chris, but he likes addressing me as Christopher. Ditto a few classmates overseas.


‘The Fan’

Many moons ago, I had an ardent fan. She wrote that she was a coffee nut who drank up to three cups each day. She hailed from Masbate and studied journalism. She was a Sidney Sheldon diehard. Way back, we chatted on YM. She called me Toffy.

To be honest, she was presentable. She had long hair and initiative. She even contacted my older sister. We had common interests. We both love writing and reading good books. Like her, I used to be a coffee drinker.

Regardless, she reminded me a bit of Dobby the house elf. He yearned to be Harry Potter’s sidekick. Unfortunately, I never met her in person. I wonder what magical powers she was hiding beneath those ‘bloodshot eyes’.

She asked me if I had a girlfriend. ‘No’, I told her. ‘Just an MU’.

Once, I was chatting with the latter. I didn’t notice that the kid was sending me IMs. I felt bad as I had not intended to snub her.

Another time, she told me, ‘Your friend told me to stay away from you’.

‘Friend? Which friend?’

‘I think her name was Rhea?’

‘Rhea who?’

Later, I gathered that she picked the most attractive of my female friends and assumed (incorrectly) that she was my boo.

We lost contact. Later, I landed on her FB profile. The same day, she blocked me. Go figure.

We could call this bit as ‘The (Rabid) Fan’.


‘The Name Game’

Christopher’s have had a hand in history. They are actors like Chris Evans and Chris Hemsworth. Comedians like Chris Tucker. Sailors and explorers like Christopher Columbus. Directors like Christopher Nolan. Point gods like Chris Paul.

One day, I hope that yours truly would not be another pebble on the sand but a name that would stand the test of time.

‘The namesake’
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Topher’s Drinks, Inc.

What is your favorite drink?

We are told to drink eight glasses of water each day. Supposedly, a larger intake keeps the doctor away. Water is a safe choice. It’s not as filling as juice and is the best for hydration. It should cure many maladies. If you’re already eating carbs like bread or potatoes, chugging water ensures that you don’t go full too soon. It’s a good complement to heavy dishes. If you’re not a fan of flavours, then this bland drink is perfect. Unlike other beverages, water is also quite cost-effective. It’s a natural and ubiquitous resource that has predated Homo sapiens.


BJ (buko juice) and a hint of tea

Next to water, coconut juice is the second banana. (Sorry, Gatorade). It’s similar to water as it’s got a light taste; it isn’t too overpowering or sweet. It usually comes in a litre or smaller. These items are imported from Southeast Asia, where there is an abundance of coconut trees. When you drink coconut juice, it’s not addictive like soft drinks.


Going back to my favourite drink, I’d say it’s peppermint tea. I bought a forty pack from the supermarket. I’ve been drinking a hot cuppa each morning. I pour boiling water then steep it for three minutes. The morning fix is a good habit to maintain. Aussies aren’t big on breakfast. It’s usually just oats, milk and cereals, or toast and Vegemite. The rest might just have a cuppa before work.


Soda for the soul

I used to have chamomile tea at night. There are still a few bags left. In school, I had a cup of coffee each morning. It gave me an energy boost but also made me jittery. In Sydney, I continued this ritual. Now, I opt for herbal tea.

Occasionally, I drink caffeinated soda. You know, Coke and Pepsi. When I get supper delivered, that usually means soft drinks. Every now and then, I also go for iced tea. These drinks are stimulating, so it’s best not to have them in the evening. The late Pope Benedict XVI was reportedly addicted to Fanta. This was depicted in The Two Popes with Jonathan Pryce. Aside from the colas, I likewise gulp sarsaparilla. I used to get A&W root beer a lot. Nowadays, I try to avoid these and sip healthier. Incidentally, Aussies shorten it as ‘sars’ while Pinoys call it sarsi.


Like coco water, sars is more of a SE Asian thing. They’re often manufactured and popular in Malaysia, Thailand, etc. I had a Malay classmate. She has two boys. I asked her about sarsi. It was her first fizzy drink. She said that she has since avoided them. Similarly, many moons ago, my friend and I visited Hobart. After a long day at the animal sanctuary and Port Arthur, our tour guide dropped us off. We went to this Asian restaurant, where I almost finished a bottle of sars.

One gallon of fruit juice please!

I drink fruit juices more than soda. Occasionally, I get Nudie juice. They assert that one cup of their juice is equivalent to two serves of fruit. They pride themselves on being the ‘creators of good’. They offer a few varieties. Impressed is another decent brand. Like Nudie, they claim to be 100% fruit juice with no added nasties. They come in one litre bottles. You have to make a choice: will it be juice or dessert. If you keep chugging the former, this will eat into your space for fruit. Aside from making you full, juice has a lot of sugar. Recently, I have been advised to limit my consumption to one glass a day. Generally, juice doesn’t go too well with Filo rice dishes. Plates of beef stew and jackfruit with coconut milk are already full of carbs. Hence, the popularity of fizzy drinks.


Another option is to make your own juice. Years ago, I’ve detailed this in an earlier post. You could opt for mango-orange or apple orange shakes. You could blend bananas and oranges, even concoct avocado or watermelon juice. Basically, you’re saving time and money. The choice is yours.

Cloudy with a chance of Congee

The weather is also a consideration. During the warmer months, you can expect me to buy more juice and ice cream. In autumn and winter, hot cuppas and soups are the pick. There’s nothing like guzzling chicken soup, beef pho or, better yet, congee. Ramen is another staple. Since the weather is already freezing, drinking ice-cold bottles is ridiculous.

There was a time when I had the occasional drink. I mostly stuck to beer and cider. Whiskey cola and red wine wasn’t for me. I tried various beer brands, from Asahi to Cooper’s, Peroni to Heineken, Tiger to Somersby. One guy told me that they all tasted the same. Alcohol is versatile. This went well with steaks, seafood, and even pasta. Indeed, in France, wines can be a water replacement. They were a real thirst quencher and the best pick me ups. However, they’re not good for your tummy or ‘bill of rights’. In Hobart, we visited Cascade Brewery. We were shown how beer was manufactured. It was very educational and we had a few drinks ourself.

In case you’re wondering, I never had a drinking problem. It was not a weekly or fortnightly thing. In the past eight or nine years, I’ve only had one standard drink.

Never a dull drink

So, that’s a rundown of my beverage choices. As you can see, there’s a lot of variety. Over time, I’ve evolved. From a coffee-loving schoolboy to a tea enthusiast, from slurping beer to downing buko juice. Unfortunately, I haven’t totally eradicated fizzy drinks and fruit juice from my diet. Having done so with alcohol, this is the next logical step. To all creatures young and old, making the switch is never too late. Salud!

P.S. You can follow me on Instagram. @topherdman

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March ‘24 reads

My last reading list was on 3 March. That represented my first compilation in many months. In the past four weeks, I’ve managed to finish three reads. I’m currently tackling a short one: Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea (1952). This time, there are two nonfiction reads and one novel. Since I’ve been trending towards going digital, all three were ebooks. This haul brings the year’s total to five ebooks. I started off with Michael Holley’s The Big Three (2020). This chronicles the instant success of Beantown’s new star trio. I followed this up with The Sun Also Rises (1926). Hemingway’s classic was a tougher yet rewarding read. He draws on his personal experience visiting Paris and Pamplona, Spain. Finally, I battled with Scott Howard-Cooper’s Steve Kerr (2021). At 336 pages, there’s a lot of detail. The author is a jack-of-all-stories but master of none. Focusing on a few points would’ve suited him better. In the latter chapters, the read became laborious.

1. The Big Three (Michael Holley). Among the three, this is the most readable. I took only a week to crest this hill. The Celtics used to be my favourite franchise, until I pledged my allegiance to Dub Nation in 2013. The book tells the story of Boston’s famed trio: Kevin Garnett, Paul Pierce, and Ray Allen. Long story short, the hallowed Celtics became a losing team. Pierce wanted help and the squad traded for Garnett and Allen. They would win a championship in their first season together. The author cites the new Boston ownership as the start of the franchise’s turnaround. Their first move was to woo Danny Ainge as the fresh general manager. He then signed Doc Rivers despite his tumultuous exit in Orlando. He also made smart moves, bringing in expiring contracts and stockpiling draft picks. When they did got a player like Rajon Rondo, Ainge used every bit of guile to retain his guy. He tolerated a couple years of losing, before cashing in on his chips. The Celtic victory was another display of Beantown sporting excellence, after the Patriots and the Red Sox beforehand.


The OG Big Three was in the 80s, with Larry Bird, Kevin McHale, and Robert Parish. The gritty trio brought three titles to the city. Ainge started at off-guard. A rare athlete, he also spent time with baseball’s Toronto Bluejays. In his prime, he was a terrific shooter. Initially, Garnett balked at going to Boston. However, the winning culture won him over. He would learn that no Celtic had ever secured the scoring title, a testament to the squad’s egalitarian approach. Their point guard, Rondo, would make a star turn in the 2009 playoffs. By Garnett’s third year, Rivers was carefully managing their minutes. This meant a fourth seeding. They went on to the NBA Finals, where they would lose to Kobe and the Lakers.

In 2012, they again made the East Finals, where they lost to LeBron and Miami in seven. At this point, Allen and Rondo were practically clawing at each other. Allen’s teammates learned of his Heat signing from the news reports. The following year, Boston would lose in the first round while Allen would hit a dagger three against the Spurs. He would earn his second championship ring. In the off-season, Pierce and Garnett would get traded to Brooklyn. The Celtics embraced another rebuild. This is a very informative book. Well-written, everything flowed smoothly.

‘…and his statement needed a realistic revision when applied to the Celtics: Anything is possible…with The Big Three’.

Rating: 4.7/5


2. The Sun Also Rises (Hemingway). This marks my first Hemingway novel. I tried reading For Whom The Bells Toll. It was not my cup of tea. Interestingly, this novel is also set in Spain. As usual, American expats are highlighted. Jake Barnes is the protagonist, the story’s moral centre. Since this is a Roman a clef, Barnes is Hemingway. The others represent the author’s circle of friends. They travel from Paris to Pamplona by train and bus. While bullfighting features, so does free love and fishing. This novel was published almost a century ago. There were clean rivers, fat fish, and telegrams. They had landlines instead of iPhones. They ate lunch rather than staring at screens. They drank wine as opposed to guzzling cola.

This was my second attempt at Sun and I was glad that I finished it. The characters were a mixed bag. Some, like Jake and Romero, are likeable. Robert Cohn, Lady Brett Ashley, and Mike Campbell aren’t as gregarious. The book per se is just 150 pages but reads more like 300 pages. The pacing is slow and quite descriptive. Sometimes, I had to skip a few paragraphs. Otherwise, I’ll be stagnant. To be honest, most of the characters appear to be spoiled rich kids passing as liberated adults. They spend more time holidaying and scheming rather than writing good books.

‘But the effort of talking American seemed to have tired him.’

Like most of his oeuvre, this one doesn’t age gracefully. Considering H.G. Wells wrote The Time Machine and George Orwell coined the term Big Brother, you would hope that genius Hemingway would at least mention Bitcoin. In fairness, Sun is rather quaint. It harks back to earlier times, the days of yore. This was the age of our grandparents, of those who came before us. It was modern but not ultra-modern. People actually read and wrote letters. This is the novel of the Lost Generation, when women were liberated. The Great War had just ended and the prognosis looked good. This has been viewed as Hemingway’s piece de resistance. In so doing, critics would overlook the derogatory language. I’m looking forward to reading more of Hemingway.

See also: my review of the 2020 documentary on the much celebrated author.

Rating: 3.9/5


3. Steve Kerr: A Life (Scott Howard-Cooper). I bought this ebook since I’m quite familiar with Kerr. An avid NBA fan, I caught the last few years of his 15-year NBA career. I also tuned in as he called the games with Marv Albert. Finally, he coaches the Golden State Warriors, my favourite hoops team. In every level, Kerr has been a glorious overachiever. He went to Arizona, where he barely made the team. By his redshirt senior season, he had led them to the Final Four.

Though he got drafted, he became a towel-waver with the Suns. Even in Cleveland, five-foot-eleven playmaker Terrell Brandon beat him as the backup point guard. Orlando was yet another pit stop as he struggled to find a home in the league. His young family had to keep changing states. In 1993, he landed in Chicago, where he managed to play significant minutes.

Throughout his basketball career, he played for some great coaches. It started at Arizona, where he was mentored by Lute Olson. The latter would create and sustain one of college basketball’s finest programs. In the NBA, he was under the tutelage of Lenny Wilkens and Cotton Fitzsimmons, two of the league’s winningest helmers. Later, he worked with Phil Jackson and Gregg Popovich. Together, they have won sixteen NBA titles in the driver’s seat. Unfortunately, the author does not capitalise on these bonds. He chooses instead to dedicate a third of the book to politics. As one reviewer pointed out, Kerr had nil involvement in the read’s making.


The author overplays Jordan’s apology to Kerr. This came in the aftermath of a free for all that had Steve looking like a panda. Apparently, MJ never apologises, until then. He dwells on Kerr’s childhood while dedicating only one chapter to his exciting Arizona years. He likewise glosses over the Bulls’s seventy-two-win season. He allots a few paragraphs to whole playoff runs. When he dissects the 2016 playoffs, he never mentions Game Six Klay. The guy who saved their season with his forty-six-point outing, is left out. His relationship with Steph Curry is also overlooked. Yet he discusses Dennis Rodman and Draymond Green.

Kerr is portrayed as a sage. He’s the team’s de facto PR guy when the stars want to duck out of the way. He has been lauded as a future head coach. He sees the floor differently and practices hard. He led the league in three point shooting. He’s an amateur comedian. Kerr peaked with the Bulls. He would win a fourth straight chip, but he had fallen out of the rotation. He was traded to Portland, where he was a key locker room voice on the Jail Blazers. He helped rookie coach, Maurice Cheeks. He was then dealt back to San Antonio, where he finished his career as a five-time NBA champion.

He would’ve signed up with the Knicks as their new head coach. At the time, Jackson was their Vice President. Due to his family, he stayed in Cali. He has since won a further four titles as their chief tactician. All this while battling crippling back problems. Meanwhile, the Knicks were on life support, until Thibs rescued them. Jackson was fired. The book is okay but not the easiest read. One reviewer compared it to a very lengthy newspaper article. The politics ruins it. The author should’ve stuck to basketball.

Rating: 3.98/5

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‘The Topher Bibliotheca’

If you could have something named after you, what would it be?

Of course, this is purely hypothetical. If the chance came, I’d like my high school library to be renamed ‘The Topher Bibliotecha’. A New York-based alumnus funded and built one building. This was then named in her honour. It wasn’t a minuscule structure, either. On the ground floor, it housed the chemistry and biology labs. Meanwhile, the computer lab and music room were on the first floor. The school’s newest and cleanest toilets were opposite the chemistry lab.

Flying the flag

Unlike Ms Lewis, I’m not as well-off or connected. I’m not a bestselling author. Likewise, I don’t practice law and I’m not based in the Big Apple. What I can offer though is a willingness to represent my school in foreign lands. The Benedictine institution will forever hold a special place in my heart. Whether it’s writing articles in the past, or penning stories, I won’t forget the precious six years that I committed to my alma mater.


As a teener, I was one of the most steadfast library users. I always read the dailies and had a book in hand. The high school library was where I read Time magazine. The repository introduced me to R.L. Stine. I devoured the almanacs. Once, me and my erstwhile crush flicked through Guinness. I noted that, apart from her sleepy eyes, she had nice, fair hands.


We started school at seven a.m. and wrapped up at 4:10 p.m. Thus, the time wasn’t enough to finish books there. We had to borrow them and bring them home. The lib wasn’t air-conditioned either, but we had electric fans and lunchtimes were always breezy.

The ten-month marathon

The school year spanned parts of ten months, from early June to late March. Summer break was all of two months. During these years, I was never an honour student. However, I won a school-wide writing contest. I did not make the varsity, but was sports editor in year 8. Furthermore, I served as an acolyte during my final two years. In four years of high school, I was always in the first section. This housed all the top achievers. Competition was very steep.


I didn’t just read in the lib. I also wrote articles that were included in the school organ. I made friendships. I gained valuable knowledge. You could say that the library was where I grew up. It taught me almost as much as the blackboard. For years, I learned more novel words or phrases from fiction books than from textbooks. It was my haven even as the librarian reminded me of Professor Dolores Umbridge from Harry Potter book five. She kept books and magazines away from us and she would not let me encode on the computers. She was a very envious soul. I wished that someone else was in charge.


A trophy called Topher

While the lib might be an ambitious goal, I can easily see the trophy bearing my name. To have gone two for three, and to have contested the title as a sophomore, is awesome. As mentioned, I also beat out a genius. That doesn’t happen every day.

The library was also the sight of my most rewarding scrabble victories. As a sophomore, we unexpectedly made the final against a pair of veteran seniors. We may have lost, but I did score a bingo, ‘grinders’. My teammate, Adrienne, wasn’t a good sport. When he was asked if we won, he did not respond to the library assistant. In both third and fourth year, we claimed the doubles trophies. I was particularly proud of our senior year victory, as we edged out a genius junior. In that bout, I did all the heavy lifting.

The dark horse

In our yearbook, I had the lengthiest ‘meaning of life’. This was the theme of our yearbook. Each of us had to address it. The last page was dedicated to my poem. It was marked as ‘un-edited’. I wasn’t the most popular or the tallest or the most artistic. I had something though that not every classmate had: I had potential. Most of them realised and admitted this. If we were to draw up the most likely to succeed, our valedictorian and editor in chief would be atop everyone’s list. My peers have proven to be more diligent than me. I was more like the Congo, still largely unexplored but brimming with untapped promise.

Other iterations

Though the bibliotheca would be an obvious choice, there are other options as well. Instead of Economics, this could be substituted as ‘Topher-nomics’. I wasn’t particularly gifted at finance but it does have a good ring to it. Social Studies was my favourite subject. In first year, I normed ninety-five (out of ninety-eight). I bested our valedictorian. I always nailed the difficult questions. My rookie teacher, Ms Mo, would exclaim: ‘I surrender.’ She told our nurse that Topher is very smart. Due to my excellence, the subject could be renamed ‘Topher Studies’.

Our pedagogues sometimes brought us to the pergola, to get some fresh air and ramp up our creativity. This could be named the ‘Topher-gola’. The gymnasium is another possibility, although they would prefer to rename it after a sporting personality. Believe me, I had some sparkling memories there. The day I hit a transition three, when the gym erupted. Another time where I stopped, popped, and hit from WAY downtown. I was being called Ray Allen. The audio-visual room is another long shot. I don’t have a long enough filmography to merit that august name change.

Homecoming

Alumni homecomings are celebrated twenty-five years after graduation. Our reunion hasn’t arrived yet. Most of my contemporaries have families. Many have relocated to Manila. Others have gone abroad. Interestingly, my batch has produced many physicians. Most of them are from the lower sections.I can anticipate the naming ceremony. Viewers would find out that this drew inspiration from a Freddo ad.

‘Once, there was a budding author just like you. He was named Chris but he was a tad bit shy. They gave him some books, shared their stories, taught him prayers. He was transformed into Topher and he’s been writing ever since!’

I may not be a physician, accountant, or engineer. I am no genius like Gat Jose Rizal. My pose won’t be featured on the five hundred peso bill. I will never win Olympic gold. I will not sink the Chinese with three pressure-packed free throws. However, as I try to write another post or project, I will always think of the lamb.

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Natural-born dreamer

What is one word that describes you?

Pondering this question isn’t that onerous. The second thing that entered my mind was ‘dreamer’. I’m big on aspirations. Someone once said, ‘Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars.’ Over time, I’ve had varying ambitions. I wanted to be a scientist, a real estate magnate, a pilot, an astronaut, a ball player, a priest. I took up media studies at uni. By then, I knew what I wanted: to be a bestselling author. While studying, I entertained the thought of dabbling as a screenwriter. However, I did not join any screenwriting classes.


Pilot Topher

Being a pilot would’ve been nice. Your job is to steer passengers to new locales. No doubt it’s stressful. Hundreds, if not thousands, of lives are in your hands. The perks of hopscotching is priceless. If you’re exceptional, you even have a shot at joining the astronaut program. Likewise, the pay is very generous. Yet the cons outweigh the advantages. Being a pilot is far from the safest calling. In one fell swoop, everything could go under. I’ve sighted the disasters on Air Crash Investigations. Furthermore, the hours would require you to be a night owl. I’ve always been the opposite: an early bird.

Ringless!

Meanwhile, basketball has been my life’s constant. I used to watch the games on telly. Friday nights were replays of nationally televised NBA games. I beheld the playoff atmosphere and gobbled the Finals. I took in NBA Jam, NBA Action, and The Basketball Show (with Bill Velasco). I purchased NBA cards. A large poster of Reggie Miller was behind my bedroom door. I used to buy hoops magazines. My b-ball journey extended well beyond the Association. I was a big PBA fan. I also devoured college hoops. The Ateneo Blue Eagles, representing an Ivy League school, were my favourite.

I played pickup ball. I had a somewhat inflated sense of my abilities. I was a good perimeter player but bad defender. My ball handling needed improvement. I best operated as a spot-up shooter. Though I had fresh legs, I never cracked our section’s rotation. Seems incredibly unfair that five starters play the entire game while others never leave the bench. In senior year, I tried out for the varsity but had a subpar audition. I did make the intramural squad (see also: One Game ).


‘Life’s a game’

I fared better at computer and board games. I played NBA Live and I still patronise Freestyle. At one on one, I once bagelled Kobe. It was winner’s out of course. I even utilised season mode, where I competed in twenty nine matches against other NBA squads. Ray Allen was my star while Starbury had triple doubles in each Finals tussle. Like Fukuda, he was our secret weapon. The Knicks were my team.

When I combatted other schoolmates at NBA Live, I had more losses than victories. The playoffs were my favourite mode. While I was bad at chess, I was a champion scrabble player. In three intramural finals, I won twice.


‘Boyhood’

Eough of that. As per above, writing has always been my calling. I was Sports Editor in Year 8. Associate Editor in Year 10. That senior year, my classmate the Feature Editor won a national writing competition. I was not handed the same chance. Since then, I’ve proven to be the more accomplished writer. I got two articles and a letter published in Misyon. I had another one that was adjudged letter of the month at Handle. So far, I’ve won three writing contests. I’ve maintained this blog with almost four hundred career posts, mostly since 2016. I’ve finished two uni degrees. I’ve self-published two books and have three other unpublished texts. This includes a 297-page memoir/self-help read that I released the other year.


Novels and stories

Just like the stars/moon quote, I am determined and resilient. Being a Pisces, I always have to dig deep to be more assertive. Hence, the three unfinished books. As one learned bloke told me, you have to be careful not to spend the rest of your life finishing your novel.

At the moment, I have a book of short stories and another nonfiction project that expands on my site’s posts. For the stories, I entered a few into writing contests. I already have the framework, so I just needed to expand, edit, and proofread. I must always provide my best shot. Every entry needs to be perfect and useable.


Two of my last three projects have been nonfiction. Aside from these, I’ve attempted two story collections (one published). As a result, I’d happily return to the world of make believe. To be honest, writing a novel is overkill. You need to be disciplined, fortunate, and locked in to pen fifty thousand words. At this point, the last thing I’d want is more unfinished reads. When I was a teenager, my goal was simple: to write the great twenty-first century Aussie novel. This is easier said than done, but a nice dream. Back in the day, I’ve read Catcher in the Rye and To Kill a Mockingbird. Both have been lauded as the novels of the past century.


Novella dreaming

A novella, though…that’s something. Hemingway’s Old Man is just over a hundred pages. It’s ‘coming soon’ on my reading list. Kafka’s The Metamorphosis is another prime example. The Stranger by Camus is a captivating read. I’ve devoured both novellas. The short novel is in scant supply. Writers prefer either the novel or the short story. The novella is somewhat of a tweener: it’s neither long nor short enough. Too many pages for story readers and inadequate for novel lovers. I understand.

Regardless, if I could put in thirty to forty thousand words, that would be sufficient. I’ll admit that 160 pages is far from a pushover, especially for me. I’ve never penned a novella. When you think of it, it’s equivalent to four short stories. I am hopeful but not exceedingly confident. Completing a novella is the final, very arduous step to pursuing my most desperate writing goal.

When life gives you hurdles, make stories. Being short on ideas is not a crime. It happens to the best of us. Being without spirit? That’s unacceptable. A man without dreams is a zealous cager without the leather.

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‘Just Roo It’

Which animal would you compare yourself to and why?

This question is not as straightforward as you might think. Homo sapiens are a proud species. We would prefer not to be demoted to our lesser brethren. We are the planet’s apex predators. We have dominion over the birds and the seas, the sea urchins and the iguanas. We could tame lions and train primates. We can domesticate canines, tackle sharks, and breed puppies. We use cowhide for leather goods. We consume prawns and roast lamb. We contend with urban sprawl and snorkel in the open sea. We have transformed from gung-go caveman to dining in Michelin starred restaurants. In a matter of Millenia, we have gone from grunting wanderers to iPhone users. We have even made our way to the moon. We are the ecosystem’s most critical beings and we will not relinquish that title. By the way, an old Nike ad inspired this week’s heading. The ad was endorsing England’s Wayne Rooney for the 2010 FIFA World Cup.


Good Stewards

The aforementioned impressive resume might lead you to believe that humans are good stewards of the land. While I can forgive you for assuming so, one needs to look at two words: global warming. In recent decades, overpopulation, pollution, and deforestation have all taken its toll. Many moons ago, in our high school yearbook, my mentor wrote that ‘We are indeed good steward’s of God’s creation!’ This was superimposed over a dreary background. Ergo, our latest track record wouldn’t win any Nobel Prizes.

Kangaroos and koalas

Going back to the query, I would like to compare myself to the lovely kangaroo. The latter is an iconic Aussie symbol. Thus, it trumps the koala as a national emblem. We see kangaroos in Aussie passports, on national teams, in state emblems, even on our national carrier. Why, you might ask.

The cute and cuddly koala would seem like a no-brainer over the roo. I read in a guidebook that the latter is a bit more industrious than the former. The cutie koala seems stoned after bingeing on eucalyptus leaves. Meanwhile, the heady roo jumps around to feed its joey. The roo covers a lot of ground while the koala sleeps for most of the time. As a result, the roo is low maintenance compared to its furry compatriot. Like myself, roos have close family ties.


The roo is not endangered, unlike the koala. Their meat is even made into sausages and fillets. Recent news has shown how construction projects has been decimating their habitat.In my lifetime, the latter’s habitat has always been under threat.

Roos tend to favour open rural spaces. There have been isolated cases of them finding their way to others’ properties. They have close ties, as seen in the female’s joey, which lives in her pouch. I beheld a wallaby (a koala cousin) in Hobart. I fed the quaint creature and patted it. At first glance, they seemed well-behaved. The national animal has even made its way to the movies. They are portrayed as smart, tough, and wily.

Active Oz

Aussies like to be lauded as active. Sport is a big part of our culture. Hence, the venerable roo is the apotheosis of everything Aussie. We would leave the koala for fun and games. When it comes to physicality and resilience, the roo is our first option. We are lucky to have them as our symbol.

Filo animals

In case you’re wondering, the Philippine eagle banners my other country. The large bird feeds on monkeys. When I grew up, it was on the one peso coin. The eagle is one of the world’s largest. The bird is also critically endangered as a result of increasing urbanisation. These days, they can only be found on four regions: eastern Luzon, Samar, Leyte, and Mindanao.

Thankfully, they did not tap the services of the tarsier. One of the smallest primates, the creature has black skin and large curious eyes. The tarsier is not native to the Philippines. Other southeast Asian nations likewise houses this critter. One of my Facebook friends was called ‘Tarsier’ due to his big orbs. His name even rhymed with the critter’s. These days, he goes by Beda. Fair enough.

Anti-tiger

One creature I don’t want to be is a tiger. They are often angry and they pounce on freebies. They also consume a lot of red meat and they wouldn’t say no to a bag of chips. They are fast learners, which greatly improves their chances of removing their prey’s heads. They could be vicious but generally don’t bear grudges. They have a tendency to growl. The tiger’s temper is well-documented. When they feel threatened, they respect no one, not even their owners. See also: Las Vegas tiger bites trainer; Tiger King. Like koalas, they are endangered. Some, like the Tasmanian tiger, has been extinct for generations. Unlike roos or koalas, they could be much more feral.

The right move

We are drawn to the magnanimous and charismatic. Though we could be unpredictable, we go for the gentle. We avoid koalas since they’re couch potatoes. We shun the tigers and their fiery temperament. Picking the roo is playing it safe. Ultimately, I stand with the majority: I’ll make the prudent move.

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Being Steph Curry

If you could be someone else for a day, who would you be, and why?

I’ve given that question some serious thought. The three stars would have to be long-form writers, thespians, or basketball phenoms. No offence, but my favourite authors are not getting any younger. Most pen their works for the love of the craft. Money and royalties are just a bonus. Having conquered the literary world, they have little else to prove.

Actors are good looking and being Casanova would be nice. I am not a fan though of their unstructured work hours. Fame on the silver screen is often rather fleeting. I do admire Jimmy O. Yang’s work. He doesn’t get the headline roles. However, even with limited billing, he always manages to shine. Being John Malkovich, Spike Jonze’s debut feature, inspired this week’s title. In said flick, the protagonists find a portal that make them become Malkovich for a few hours.

Purest shooter in NBA history

That leaves b-ball. Upon considering the current NBA crop, being Steph Curry would be nice. He’s been around the league for a decade and a half. He remains the purest shooter in history, period. After a surprising career at Davidson, he became the seventh overall pick in the 2009 draft. He was born to a family of snipers. His father, Dell, was a former sixth man of the year. He was known for his long range bombs. He had a long NBA career. His brother, Seth, would suit up for Duke. Shorter, the latter would be feared around the league for his pinpoint shooting accuracy.

Regardless, Steph is in a league by himself. As mentioned in an old post, he became the first unanimous NBA MVP. This was a feat that not even Shaq or Jordan could pull off. He accomplished this after leading the L in scoring and steals. He became the first human to win the scoring race while simultaneously posting 50-40-90 shooting splits. That year, the Dubs sported a historic 73-9 slate. They led the Cavs 3-1 but couldn’t finish them off. Common logic still places the 95-96 Bulls as the gold standard, as they won the chip.

Records and chips

Steph has gone to the Finals six times, losing twice. In his last trip, he finally got the award that eluded him: Finals MVP. He fancies himself as the best point guard ever. Most pundits would still go for Magic Johnson in that debate. If Chef Curry could garner his fifth ring, then look out.

Chef holds the records for threes in both the regular and postseason. Previously, he has shattered Walter Ray Allen’s trey count. He has since surpassed three thousand makes. If he stays healthy, four thousand career triples may not seem like a tall order.

Recalibrating the improbable

Steph’s greatness has recalibrated the unthinkable on the hardwood. If someone told us that Steph had twenty threes in a Finals game, no one would be shocked. If an online tweet had him scoring eighty-two points in three quarters, no one would bat an eyelash. If a report appeared that, in a Christmas tilt, he was a perfect fifteen of fifteen from downtown while norming a triple-double, NBA fans would merely shrug. Another day, another Curry cakewalk.

Chef’s range is mind-boggling. He shoots three pointers from the hallway, a hundred feet from the hoop. Nothing but net. He fires from seventy feet. Bang! Half court heaves look like layups to him. He makes it look so easy. Furthermore, he’s not obsessive like Allen. Indeed, being Steph would be so cool. Imaging having limitless range and just flinging treys like nobody’s business. Being Chef is video game fare. Riding his hot hand is akin to being a rock star for one night.

Steph-like range

I had a phase in high school. Before matches, I’d fling some bombs from midcourt. There were more makes than misfires. Once, in an actual pickup game, I caught the ball near mid court. My teammates besieged me with instructions. I fired a jumper that was as straight as an arrow. Some of the guys were calling me Ray Allen.

The startling thing about Curry is that he could get off anywhere, against anyone. He’s uncorking above a pick or dribbling. Straightaway or corner pocket. When he’s in the zone, forget it. ‘Hand down, man down’.

When you look at Curry, he seems unremarkable. You wonder how his smallish stature would survive amongst the tall trees. Big men have always dominated basketball. From George Mikan in the 50s to Bill Russell in the 60s to Jabbar in the 70s all the way to Shaq, this has been the man mountain’s lair. His Airness has been the exception rather than the rule. Thus, nothing was more decisive than a putback flush over two defenders. Or a skyhook against Boston.

Revolutionising the NBA

The advent of Curry has revolutionised the whole game. In the NBA, teams have taken to the three pointer. Whole offences are structured around utilising the three ball. Moreover, defensive schemes are now rooted in taking away the trifecta. To put that in perspective, twenty-six years have passed since an NBA game finished without a three point attempt.

Furthermore, Steph’s offensive brilliance has enabled positionless basketball. His Death and Hamptons lineup had no natural centres but gave other teams fits. Defenders who could switch, guarding multiple positions, has become the league’s prototype. 3-and-D cagers are now in highest demand.

Astonishing how one scrawny cager could apply his imprint on the whole league. Steph Curry is no Jabbar. He will not pummel you like Shaq. He won’t grab thirty boards like Russell. Yet he will make a difference for sure. Taller dudes like Vince Carter, Reggie Miller, and Chris Webber couldn’t tease out a chip. The list of talented cagers who missed out, goes on. Where Iverson couldn’t win, Curry could.

Curry landed in a perfect situation. His coach believes in him. He is paired with another historic shooter. Controversial Draymond anchors their defence. He was teammates with KD. Everyone buys into their culture.

Representing the marginalised

Steph has grown from a high potential cager to a woke spokesperson. He represents the shattered victims, the slain teens. He speaks his mind and makes no apologies for it. He tapes his shoes with the name of his fallen brother. He makes sure that the voices of the marginalised are heard.

Despite his success, Steph remains humble as. He does not let the winning and rings get into his head. Even when the Warriors were floundering, he never requested a trade. Though he’s the captain, he does not make unreasonable demands. When he was the unanimous winner, his salary was about ten million a year. Subsequently, he became the league’s first two hundred million man.

‘One Day’

Oh, to be Steph for a day. Between a unanimous MVP, a record breaking three, or a fourth NBA title, there’s no shortage of ‘Stephoics’. Which night will it be? Personally, I’ll take the fourth trophy. This proves, once again, that he could win it all sans Kevin Durant. This affirms that he can will a team to a chip while buying into the Dubs’ culture. Individual accolades are dandy but without team success and chip rings, they mean little. The Association is rife with All-Stars who scored a ton of points but had no playoff success.

His fourth Finals win reveals that not only is he the best shooter. He’s easily one of the top fifteen or twenty players ever. Some would even rank him higher than his nemesis, LeBron James. They faced each other in four NBA Finals, and Curry won three. Tough though he might be, LBJ was never named a unanimous MVP. Chef Curry (4) has as many titles as Giannis (1), Nikola Jokic (1), and Kawhi Leonard (2) combined.

Steph’s high character, both on and off the court, is something we should all subscribe to.

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Summer (2024) reads

2023 had seen me reading less. Altogether, I’ve averaged three books per season. Ergo, one catalogue every quarter. Altogether, this trio are all period pieces. Two are set in WW2 while the sports book transpires in the eighties. Mitch Albom’s latest anchors the season’s list. As I’ve noted in the past, his books are the easiest to crest. Four months since being released, The Little Liar hovers above ninety percent on Goodreads. I followed this one with Matthew Reilly’s latest. Mr. Einstein’s Secretary is a hopscotching epic that humanises the past century’s greatest physicist. The author provides insight into key moments in history. The plot reminded me of Forrest Gump. Like Liar, the Reilly book was well received on GR. Finally, Magic is Roland Lazenby’s massive tribute to the Laker legend. I’ve read his take on Kobe. In both works, he utilises a plethora of interviews, subplots, and vignettes. Like LeBron and The Jordan Rules, this one was an ebook.

1. The Little Liar (Albom). I’ve devoured most of Albom’s oeuvre, including three of his nonfiction texts (Tuesdays with Morrie, The Fab Five, and Finding Chika). One critic described Grisham as a ‘gifted storyteller’. For me, Albom is a master storyteller. He plays his cards really well, he sculpts his characters like Michelangelo. His attention to details mirrors da Vinci. Looking at Liar, a lot of research and effort was put into the novel. On the surface, his writing appears clean and crisp. How he’s able to construct such a seamless piece is breathtaking.

Liar is set in WWII. Nico is the titular character. The eight year old boy is a zealous Jew, attending synagogue every Saturday. They lived in Salonica (now Thessaloniki), where Ladino was the mother tongue. The metropolis held the biggest Jew diaspora. Everybody loves him, including Fanny, his friend. Only his brother, Sebastian, doesn’t dote on him. This was a classic case of sibling rivalry. More importantly, Nico was known for his veracity. He never told lies.

All this changed when the Nazis invaded and transported Jews to Auschwitz. Nico was led to believe that a new life awaited them. He sold it pretty well, not knowing the deception. Fifty thousand Jews were shipped to the camp. Upon figuring out that he was bamboozled, Nico was crestfallen. He had just sent his family and loved ones to limbo. He vowed never to tell the truth again.


The plot is centred on four punto de vistas: Nico’s, Sebastian’s, Fanny’s, and Udo’s. The latter is the Nazi commander who prompted Nico’s big lie. Fanny was fortunate never to have endured the camp. She lived in the shadows in Austria and Hungary. Sebastian wasn’t as lucky. Nico’s compulsive lying saw him forge passports and create bevies of fake identities. After chancing upon Nazi loot, he became rich. Though well off, he remained hollow inside. He kept changing countries and fabricating truths.

Fanny married Sebastian and they had a daughter, who lived in Israel. Sebastian though was consumed with wrath towards the Nazis. This led him to work in Austria, where his job was hunting Swastikas. This drove a wedge in his family. Ultimately, they divorced. Fanny was the polar opposite. She did not see the point of bearing a grudge. She made a conscious effort to avoid talking about the war.

For most of the book, Nico isn’t a very likeable chap. He has everything…and yet nothing. He is a Hollywood kingpin but no one sees him. He yearns for companionship but stiff arms anyone who gets close. In his productions, he explores his past but dismisses any mention of the Holocaust. Surreptitiously, he attends synagogue. Later, we learn that every year, on August 10, he showers Holocaust victims with cash. He does so anonymously and is ridden with guilt. Like Sebastian he craves to track down Udo. In his most heartfelt film, he chronicles his life and highlights his greatest happiness: his time with his family and Fanny. When he takes a bullet for his brother, he dies a fulfilled man. You can always count on Albom to give a feel good ending. Book done, after a week.

Rating: 5/5

2. Mr Einstein’s Secretary (Matthew Reilly). This marks my first Reilly read since The One Impossible Labyrinth. I like the narrative’s pacing. The action is swift and addictive, a real page turner. We progress from the protagonist’s humble beginnings in Germany, where she was Einstein’s next-door neighbour. We watch as she migrated to New York via steamship, to escape the Nazis. She then attends secretary school, where she finishes at the top of her class. After completing the course, she works for an older Yankee businessman. Though his schedule is packed, she gains valuable insight. Subsequently, she takes a front row seat to Word War II as the private secretary of high ranking Nazis. She then reports their operations to the US.

Einstein is a supporting yet visible character. Hanna is the star of the show, but the former acts as her all important mentor, father figure, and friend. As mentioned, this period work was mainly set in the 1930s and 40s. Aside from Einstein, Norma, Hanna’s twin, is another central character. Norma is the supporting antagonist. She has her issues and is a master troublemaker. She even gives her twin some tips on how to escape camps and prisons. She uses her uncanny resemblance to Hanna in order to get ahead in the world. She has done this for a long time has no qualms about doing it. She’s a quick learner but her lack of Hannah’s technical knowledge would ultimately doom her.

Agent Dan Kessler is Hannah’s point of contact and future flame. His fluency in German certainly helps. They enact a risky but exciting liaison under the Nazi sun. Their link was crucial in fooling the Nazis about the US War effort, ensuring victory for the Allies. Hannah worked for Speer, the Nazis’ chief architect. She describes him as an affable chap, though he lies about his involvement in his party’s infamy. Martin Bormann also employed her. He was a Hitler puppet who stayed with him through to the end. He was also vile and manipulative.

This is a really cool discourse. The author did his research over five years. The result is a very polished product. There are real life characters, including Einstein, General Omar Bradley, Speer, Bormann, Hannah Reitsch, Lucky Luciano, and a few others. Even though it involves Einstein and physics, the work is very accessible. I didn’t even notice the different fonts, which is reminiscent of Jodi Picoult. He uses various fonts for four different voices. I borrowed the ebook from the library. This marks the first text that I’ve crested in 2024. Prior to Einstein, I’ve tried finishing three other books. With the glowing reviews, this is a summer read that you ought to checkout.

‘A book can also give you insight into that person’s character: first and foremost, that the person is curious, because it is only the curious who read. The boorish and the arrogant do not read because they think they know everything already.’

Rating: 5/5


3. Magic (Roland Lazenby). ‘There had been many big men before him eager to dribble and pass and display their own genius, but Johnson would prove to be the one, the single figure with the iron will and supreme talent to impose his imprint on the game.’

This biography on Showtime’s mastermind is different. For starters, Lazenby takes an inside look at the star point guard’s formative years. Over two hundred pages is dedicated to his youth in Lansing, Michigan. A long (and pointless) family history through the American South is offered. Earvin’s close bond with his dad is canvassed. He won a state chip in school, before bagging the national title at Machigan State. He clashed with his college coach, but was the outfit’s leader even as a frosh. For his efforts in the 1979 chip match, he was adjudged Most Outstanding Player. The Final Four offered Magic a chance to be seen by the average American.

‘In and around the championship night, American finally got the first full look at this guy called Magic Johnson, a man with a smile so tall and wide that his cheeks seemed to strain mightily just to hold it all together’.

Secondly, the book is far from a one trick pony. Yes, there’s loads of basketball. However, Magic’s position is foregrounded as a go-between among the black and white communities. Magic’s megawatt smile and easygoing personality is no secret. His competitiveness, legendary. However, Roland looks into his various relationships. Whether it’s with his future wife, Cookie; his on-court brother, Kareem; his high school teammates; his business partner; his agent, lawyer, and competitors.

The author presents Magic as a sponge. People saw his no-look passes and junior, junior sky hooks. They witnessed his patented set shot that was streaky. In time, he extended his range to beyond the three point arc. Roland concedes that the Magic Man had Lady Luck on his side. He began his NBA journey with a playoff team. In his rookie year, he avoided any major time off despite some scares. As a sophomore, he was generating the most publicity even as he spent so little court action due to injury. By his third season, he wielded so much power that he essentially fired his own coach.


There’s some mention of Magic’s lifestyle. On the whole, the author does not dwell on the former’s conquests. He does point out that Magic was careless and loose. He allegedly bedded five hundred women a year. Despite all that was going on, despite his busy schedule, Magic was always there for his friends. He made time, too, for reviewing game tapes. He never came to a fixture unprepared. His videotape usage was way ahead of his time. He bonded with every egg on the roster, whether you were an all time great or the twelfth man.

In his eleven full seasons, he only missed the Finals thrice. His rivalry with Celtics star, Larry Bird, was epic. They contested three NBA Finals, with Johnson winning twice. For most of the eighties, the pair battled for NBA supremacy. He stands as the greatest point guard ever. His combination of size, strength, and court vision, were second to none. More importantly, he preserved his finest performances for the duels that matter. Magic holds the best assist per game average (11.19) in the regular season. However, his playoff average (12.35) is even higher. Given his contributions, Magic was the finest all-around player of his era. He had more career triple doubles (138) than Bird (59) or Jordan (28) combined. He won three season MVPs in four years. When he announced his retirement due to HIV, his passion was never extinguished. He applied his greatness to other endeavours, be it in business, coaching, television, or philanthropy.

A massive read at over seven hundred pages. It took me a while, off and on, bit by bit, until I crested this mountain. I’m proud to say that I only skipped the section on slavery and maybe two or three other short paragraphs. The language could be improved. Conciseness is clearly not the author’s strength. However, being a hoops fan, I could get what Roland wrote about. In short, the book has a niche audience.

‘Life, however, is a mosaic that reflects a total of many pieces’.

Rating: 4.7/5

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