Iskolar ng Bayan on the fairway

Recently, social media was flooded with criticism of the University of the Philippines (UP) golf club — a student organization dedicated to the sport.

The hate toward the UP golfers is quite understandable. In this time and age when stories of corruption are aplenty, the public has a right to get mad, thinking that the club-wielding Iskolar ng Bayan are among the “nepo babies” who are out to flaunt their lavish wealth and lifestyles at the expense of the taxpayers who have to work very hard to make ends meet.

This reaction is not merely of outrage — it’s a justified frustration over the systemic inequality. For many Filipinos, golf is a powerful symbol of the affluent class with its expensive equipment, high-priced club memberships and vast, environmentally-demanding courses.

But, is golf really only for the rich and powerful that no UP student deserves to walk on the fairway?

Take David Charles Serdenia.

A celebrated junior golf champion, Charles is the son of Ana Maria, a caddie for 27 years at the Philippine Navy Golf Club. His journey is a testament to raw talent and fierce determination overcoming financial hurdles to excel in a sport that is said to be exclusive to kids with rich and powerful parents.

Nicknamed “Boy Commute,” Charles would travel long distances on public transportation to train and compete. His equipment — from clubs to bags, pants and shoes — were mostly donations from supportive golfers who recognized his incredible talent and potential. Even basketball legend Ramon Fernandez chipped in by staging a golf event so that Charles could compete in an important event in the United States earlier this year.

In short, all of his achievements — including winning national junior tournaments and competing internationally — were fueled by a desire to succeed and help his struggling family, not by a trust fund.

This grassroots reality highlights that golf, at its core, is a sport of discipline, precision and character that should be accessible to all.

The UP golf club has a golden opportunity — and an obligation — to embody the true spirit of accessibility in a sport often perceived to be exclusive to the rich and powerful.

Instead of merely being viewed as a group of students enjoying an expensive hobby, they must actively implement their promised community outreach by running free clinics for fellow students, engaging with public school programs and using their platform to teach the discipline that golf fosters. They must use their privilege to bridge — not to widen — the social gap.

Ultimately, the issue is not about some students at a national university wanting to play golf. The real problem is the structural inequality that dictates who can afford the privilege of pursuing an extracurricular activity, regardless of its cost and more broadly, which socio-economic classes are successfully gaining admission to the state university in the first place.

Instead of hating these Iskolar ng Bayan on the fairway, let us channel the intensity of the online backlash towards the system that created this divide.

The existence of a golf club in a state university should not only highlight the ongoing struggle for equity, but also the triumphs of athletes like “Boy Commute,” reminding us that talent — when given the chance — will always help you score an ace.