I have always loved the game of tennis. Though I never made it beyond the club level, I take pride in having played—and won—trophies in both singles and doubles tournaments. There is something about this sport that teaches you more than just how to swing a racket. Whether you’re standing alone on the baseline or relying on a partner in doubles, every match is a lesson in discipline, patience, humility, and resilience. Tennis is a mirror—it reveals your strengths, your flaws, and your heart.
That’s why watching Alex Eala’s historic and inspiring run at the 2025 Miami Open fills me with immense pride and a surge of hope. For the first time, a Filipino—yes, a Filipino—broke into the quarterfinals of a WTA 1000 tournament, defeating top-seeded players along the way. It was a feat that stunned the tennis world and made millions of us stand a little taller.
Alex’s journey is nothing short of extraordinary. She has single-handedly put the Philippines on the global tennis map—a place we rarely find ourselves in sports other than boxing, or occasionally, weightlifting and gymnastics through the brilliance of Carlos Yulo. But she didn’t just get there by luck or by accident. Her triumph is a product of relentless training, sacrifice, and a family that believed in her dreams when the system offered little to no support.
And that’s where the celebration is cut short—because while we applaud her victory, we also need to face a bitter reality: Alex Eala is the exception, not the norm. She is one of the lucky few who had the means, the support, and the access to facilities that most young, equally talented Filipinos will never have.
Let’s not kid ourselves. Our government’s support for sports—beyond the usual basketball lip service—is abysmal. Year after year, we hear promises of grassroots development, sports academies, world-class training centers, and increased budgets. Yet what do we see? Dilapidated courts, empty promises, funds wasted on junkets and photo ops, and young athletes forced to turn to private sponsors or even quit their dreams altogether.
It is infuriating to watch talented Filipino athletes beg for support, hold fundraisers, or crowdsource their way to international competitions while politicians burn public funds on campaigns, security convoys, and mindless “consultancies.” They race to congratulate athletes after they win, drape them in flags, hand them medals, and shamelessly pose for photos—while conveniently forgetting that they were nowhere to be found when these same athletes were struggling for equipment, coaching, or just a decent place to train.
And, ironically, it is often the very government agencies tasked to nurture sports that become the biggest obstacles. Layers of bureaucracy, questionable leadership, misallocated funds, and red tape suffocate the dreams of countless young athletes. In many cases, the system crushes more potential champions than it creates.
This is exactly why we have seen some of our best athletes forced to make the painful decision of leaving the country just to chase the support and recognition they deserve. Chess grandmaster Wesley So now represents the United States, while rising fencing star Maxine Esteban chose to compete under the flag of Ivory Coast. These athletes still carry Filipino blood and heart—but no longer the Philippine flag—because their own country failed them first.
So today, let me speak directly to those in power—to the Philippine Sports Commission, the Department of Education, the Department of Budget and Management, and every lawmaker who claims to care about the future of this nation. Stop treating sports, arts, and youth development as mere sidelines or afterthoughts. Fund them. Prioritize them. Nurture them.
The victories of Alex Eala—and those who came before her—should not be isolated miracles. They should be the norm. You have the power, the resources, and the mandate to make that happen. So what are you waiting for?
Our young athletes, like our artists, are among the few bright spots in a country suffocating in scandals, corruption, fake news, political division, and uninspiring leadership. They are the ones giving us something to cheer for, reminding us that the Filipino spirit is indomitable, world-class, and worthy of the global stage.
But relying on individual brilliance is not sustainable. We need to build a system—one that finds, nurtures, and supports talent from the barangays to the big leagues. We need leaders who see sports not just as photo ops but as nation-building.
Somewhere right now, in a rural town or an urban slum, another Alex Eala is picking up a racket, a guitar, a paintbrush, or a pen. Another dream is being born. The question is—will we, as a nation, help that dream soar, or will we, once again, let it die in the shadows of neglect?
It’s time we stop failing our youth. It’s time we stop waiting for miracles and start creating them.
Let’s serve their dreams—properly, consistently, and with the urgency they deserve.