If Sara Duterte is impeached, which is impossible of course, but suppose the impossible does a little stretch and decides to be realistic, who do they whisper about? Sebastian Duterte. Baste.

Duterte man Sal Panelo said “it’s too early” to talk about 2028.

Sal? With this energy? This kind of buildup? Please. In this country, Christmas starts in September. Politics started yesterday.

Try dismissing a news cycle that keeps dragging in the future, especially when the health chatter won’t shut up.

President comes out, does jumping jacks. Great form, by the way. But we’re asking a medical question. Where’s the report?

If your pilot walks out and says, “Don’t worry, I can do jumping jacks,” are you boarding? If your doctor says, “Look at you, ‘one, two, three!’ instead of giving you results, you start to suspect you’re the experiment.

This is where we are. Show up in a market, you’re fixing prices. Stand in floodwater, you’re solving corruption. Jumping jacks, you’re medically cleared to lead the country.

Baste — funny thing, nothing has been decided. Yet. Which is why everyone seems so certain.

It feels like he’s the backup savior. People love a backup, especially when they feel something has been taken from them, once, thrice.

He has that same straight line people either loved or feared in Rodrigo Duterte. Never a middle. “Different person,” they insist. Same aftertaste; you locked up the guy in The Hague, the accent escaped.

He carries the borrowed gravity without pretending it’s his. Doesn’t overcompensate about it: “I am my father.” That restraint creates intrigue: “Maybe he has the same instincts.” “Maybe he’ll snap the same way.”

That’s charisma. And because he’s not fully defined, he becomes whatever you need. Tough for some, authentic for others, revenge for the restless, continuity for the sentimental.

He looks like he’d rather be somewhere else: tattooed, chewing gum, faintly inconvenienced by the entire idea of leadership.

That, strangely, reads as sincerity. That’s how 2016 was won by an outsider. We’ve reached the point where not wanting the job is considered the best qualification for it.

Because people don’t expect Baste to be the smartest, which is a wonderful place to be. You land one decent line and it feels like a revelation. Accidental competence. Very charming.

Baste operates in the “post-competence era” of politics where voters don’t always ask: “Is he the most capable?” Rather: “Does he feel like he’s on my side?”

The charisma is built on unfinished business. He keeps “the feeling” alive.

In the last few days, Baste was sworn in as PDP Laban president. Took a lead role in the newly launched Rage coalition.

The obvious idea: Why not run together? Baste, Sara VP?

Brilliant. Very greedy.

First, you run for president, you pick a VP to add votes. New regions. Allies. Baste? Same base. Same voters. You kill the backup. Same ticket means something happens — he goes down with her. You’d shrink him.

Right now, Baste lives in “Maybe he’s like his father” suspense without the full burden of a declared national run. You make him VP, you put him in a slot, all spoiled: no more maybe. Now it’s — prove it.

So what function is Baste really serving right now?

Maybe he’s not the backup at all. If what people want is continuity, it doesn’t even have to be him.

So why is everyone already talking like the confidence needs a spare tire? What exactly do they think is about to go flat?