Dodging dimwits and digs

Last Monday, in a rare act of self-care, I chose to protect my mental health by skipping the circus that was the Senate debate on whether or not to proceed with the impeachment trial.

Instead of enduring a verbal ping-pong match featuring our ever-polarized political tribes — who seem to think volume equals virtue — I tuned in to something far more coherent, dignified, and suspenseful: the Philippines vs Iran volleyball match.

Now, let’s be clear. We lost. It went the full five sets. Our Alas Pilipinas girls fought valiantly although Iran eventually clinched the win by the slimmest of margins. But honestly? I walked away with more satisfaction watching that match than I’ve ever gotten from any Senate session.

At least on the court, the spikes had direction, the blocks had purpose, and nobody stood up to deliver a 20-minute monologue just to say “I object… to not being noticed enough.”

I knew I made the right choice the moment the Senate session opened with the usual ceremonial wrangling — motions, counter motions, grandstanding disguised as “manifestations of concern,” and dramatic readings of the Constitution as if it were Shakespeare.

It’s the same political telenovela on loop: one camp cries foul, the other cries fake news, and somewhere in the noise, the actual issue — like a lonely volleyball in the middle of a chaotic schoolyard — is forgotten, kicked aside, or spiked into irrelevance.

Meanwhile, on the volleyball court, I witnessed something that looked almost foreign to Philippine politics: teamwork. Real, sweaty, selfless teamwork. Players trusting each other, communicating in quick gestures and eye contact — not endless privilege speeches. No one blamed the libero for a missed dig or accused the middle blocker of being a “yellowtard” or “red tag.” No one paused the game to ask for an ethics probe of the other team’s jump serve.

The match had a clear goal: to win. The Senate debate? Well, the goal seemed more like “win airtime” or “win the next election.” It’s not governance, it’s gladiator games — but with more microphones and less honor.

Sure, losing to Iran stung a bit. But it was the kind of loss that still made me proud. Our athletes played with grit and heart, not ego and entitlement. And even though they fell short, there was no post-game press con blaming the referee, the audience, or “the dilawan narrative.” Just handshakes and mutual respect.

By the time the final set ended, I felt strangely… cleansed. I’d successfully dodged a full day of political pollution and instead immersed myself in something that celebrated discipline, unity, and actual effort. It was a reminder that the Philippines still has people — on courts, in fields, and yes, sometimes even in government — who strive to elevate instead of divide.

So, no, I don’t regret choosing volleyball over verbal volleyball. I may have missed a few senators calling each other names in flowery legalese, but I gained something better: a renewed belief that somewhere in this country, people still know how to fight for something bigger than themselves — and they don’t need a committee hearing to do it.

I’ll catch the next match. As for the impeachment drama? I’ll wait for the highlight reel — if there’s anything worth highlighting.