No one could remember how Salvador Nolasco got the job as a caretaker of Victoria Tennis court before the outbreak of the Pacific War. Nobody seemed to be interested for in the first place, he was doing a hell of a good job. What many knew, to include many players, was that this man of over fifty was strong as an ox despite of his age, a native from Visayas town, and he lived all alone in the court’s utility shack. The shack was a small wooden structure roofed by G.I. sheet containing all the equipments, materials, and supplies needed to maintain the playing tennis court. It served too as a wooden bunk of Mang Badong and not far from the shack were the washroom, shower, and locker room for the players under the care of this man.
In view of his long service to the club, all the players as well as their wives knew him by name, together with the vendors passing the area, the ball pickers, the policemen patrolling the vicinity, and some American soldiers billeted in the nearby military barracks. In a way of looking, Mang Badong was like a living institution therein, a living symbols of the tennis well kept shelled courts.
“Mang Badong, reserved me tomorrow at six thirty, court no. 4”, a member would remind the caretaker who would write it on the appointment board as a part of the rules. Immediately, when the ball pickers would see the reservations on the chart, they would rush to the caretaker to get the job. Mang Badong had a roaster of these hardy boys, and see to it that everyone registered was given the opportunity to earn. Of course, this old man would always place reserves, for at times due to some forfeiture events, the assigned ball picker could not come. Mang Badong was not only helpful to this street urchin but also likewise fair, and for that he was highly respected.
Early in the cold morning, Mang Badong would be preparing the courts for the day. He would check the ground level, the lines, and would see to it that the debris like the fallen leaves and strewn paper cups were removed. When everything was “spic and span”, he would put the nets on the courts reserved for the morning, and an extra court in case of sudden impulses of some members who would come without prior notice. Eased from his long experience plus his hunches, Mang Bandong would be right on the unannounced pairs who would drop for a game or two.
“Mang Badong, thank you for keeping my small bag I left yesterday due to my hurry”, acknowledged a man in a car who came early one morning. “Please take this”, the man in the car would offer him some cash.
“I can not take that sir”, it is part of my job to protect properties while in the premises of the club. Thank you very much for the offer” expressed the caretaker as he handed the bag to the tennis afficiado.
During the rainy days, Mang Badong would not be busy as nobody would be playing, but he could see a lot of works coming later. The running water was eroding much of the playing surface, as the foundation became weak due to the inundation. During such inclement weather, Mang Badong would be in his shack reading the daily newspaper, or in deep thought. Near him was his small charcoal burner with a pot of native coffee perking.
One rainy day, as he lay on his wooden bunk, his thoughts carried him to his boyhood town where he was born and raised, in a small Negros barrio. His parents were poor and they work for big sugar cane field owners. Young Salvador went to the early grades and when he was barely ten, he joined the “sacadas”, for he looked older and had a strong physique. He remembered that he had to toil from morn till dusk with the other “sacadas” team, and by the end of the day, he was dead tired. When payday came, he would give his earnings, meagre it was, to his parents to help them tide over the economic harshness of rural life. The hardship and poverty-stricken people around him had a compelling effect. He could not fight the “cacique” system alone, and nobody would want to join him to redress his century-old grievances. He then left for the big city, which he thought would alleviate his plight. In the city, he recollected, here was also deprivation and poverty only in different forms. Finding work was difficult as there were not enough jobs for the jobless as immigration people like him form the provinces continued to droves. To survive he did odd jobs in the piers, trucking firm, and shipping lines and his credentials was always his physical prowess. In one job, he stayed long enough to become a foreman of stevedores who loaded and unloaded cargoes from a sea going vessels. His pay was not bad so he got himself a wife. Unfortunately, his wife died during pregnancy followed by his parents. Mang Badong helped his younger brothers and sisters finish their studies in the province while he stayed in his job at the shipping company. When the company changed ownership, he decided to retire and was given some benefits. The former owner of the company who was an officer of the Victoria Tennis Club offered him a caretaker job and he accepted it. He was still trying to recollect some details of his life when he heard a tap on his door.
“Mang Badong, this is Undoy” called a voice outside, as the rain continue to fall.
“Oh, it’s you….come in or you will get soaked in this monsoon rain”, greeted the caretaker after he stood up apparently disturbed from his reminiscing of his past life.
“Sir, my mother is ill and I need some money for her medicine”, explained Undoy who was given a dry towel and a cup of coffee. Undoy was one of the ball pickers of the court.
“Here’s the cash, Undoy, pay me later out of your ball picking earnings by instalments” the caretaker uttered as he handed him the money. “Be careful on your way as a calesa or vehicle might hit you in this blinding rain”, followed up as Undoy ran in the heavy rain.
After the rainy season, Mang Badong had a busy week, preparing the courts in good shape. He would requisition shells, sand and filling earth and other needs to put the many courts in an A-1 condition. Work crew would be hired to speed up the work as time was running short.
“ You did a good job here, Mang Badong”, commented the head of the tennis club who made a surprise visit one afternoon, as the playing season was about to start.
To Mang Badong that remark was a boost to his morale for he knew then that he was rendering a satisfactory service to the club.
Years passed by and Mang Badong never noticed much of it, as he was devoted to his daily routine. Some pickers had grown up to be replaced by others, the young and needy ones.
Then winds of war began to blow stronger. He noticed the increase of military personnel of the U.S. Army. There were constant movements of military hardwires pulled by trucks, even late at night.
It was nearly September of 1941, and the rainy season would be over, many players, kibitzers, guests and watchers were all talking of war in the Pacific. He did not pay much attention then.
“Is war really coming?” Sir?” asked Mang Badong.
“I really don’t know this may be a pre-cautionary” explained the army member.
“Good luck Sir, and I will keep the court ready”, the old man as the club member executed a snappy salute and left in a waiting car.
Then the early morning of December 8th, news came that Pearl Harbour the big American Naval Station in the Pacific was bombed. That morning no players came and the American Army Units were in unusual activity. By noon enemy bombers in formation passed by on their way to their assigned targets. For the first time, Mang Badong felt the rumour of war must have come true. A total blackout was imposed that night, Cavite Navy yard and Nichols Field were mercilessly bombed. As bombs dropped in Nichols Field, the ground would shake as flames and smoke rose clearly in the sky visible from his place.
“You have to leave this place, Pop”, announced the American Army Sergeant.
“This place is not safe for you now, we are placing anti-aircraft guns right here” ended the Sergeant.
He packed his clothes in a big bag. Orders are orders. But deep in his mind, it is so sudden that he did not know where to go. As he was about to leave, he saw a familiar face on his door.
“Mang Badong this place is not safe for you to stay, my mother sent me to get you” uttered Undoy, the ball picker whom he helped to buy some medicine for his mother. Undoy had quit his ball-picking job but before he did, he tried to pay Mang Badong but the latter refused to accept the payment. For that gesture, Undoy could not forget such type of a man with a golden heart.
Without any alternative, the two left, Undoy carrying the two bags. Undoy told Mang Badong that we was helping his mother in Divisoria market stall, and in between he would be in school with his brother. The two conversed as they walked together until they reached the many houses not far from the sea facing Manila Bay in a section of San Nicolas District.
“Mother, we are here”, shouted Undoy as the two reached the door of the house. “Please come in Mr. Nolasco, this place is safer than yours near the military buildings”, asserted Aling Ligaya, Undoy’s mother.
“I hope I am not a burden here”, Mang Badong tried to explain.
“Nonsense, if not for your help, I would probably have died. You save my life and can never forget that kindness. It was Undoy who thought of you when we had exhausted our thoughts where to run for help and most of our neighbours are also in need”, explained Aling Ligaya with some emotion. Much more you refused payment later” she continued.
Mang Badong found the house built by Undoy’s late father to be adequately spacious for all of them. The materials were mostly imported pinewood with galvanized sheets as roofing.
When the two children were out of the house, Mang Badong approached Aling Ligaya while she was preparing some rice cakes in the kitchen and spoke in a low tone. “ Aling Ligaya, how can you accept me in you house when I am a total stranger?”
As I said, what you did spoke for the man. Kindly stop feeling sorry for this war which may be long and hard”, she replied with finality.
The war wore on for more than three years and Mang Badong never returned to the tennis court as caretaker. In fact, he never left that house again. During the occupation Mang Badong and Aling Ligaya found warm fascination for each other and they got married. Aling Ligaya never had additional children but Mang Badong, the two children became also his own.
After the war, the tennis court was never rebuilt again. It became a parking lot for buses and part of it is a small golf course extended to Bonifacio Drive. All that was left of the famous sporting area of the pre-war years was a lingering memory of tennis aficionados in white short braving the early cold to play in that famous Victoria Court.