I don’t watch cheering competitions. Except in high school where I was “forced” to join a cheering competition in the intramurals, I haven’t seen any cheering competition or its variation, the cheerdance (I’m not even sure to spell it as “cheerdance” or “cheer dance”), whether in the University Athletic Association of the Philippines (UAAP) or abroad. It’s just so, how do I say this — girlie.
There’s this stereotype that cheerdancing is not for men. Plus, and this is probably the more weighty reason, it’s boring.
A tumbling here, a pyramid there, cartwheels, a flood of boring dead air in between. The same thing year in and year out. Not fun. No fun at all.
So it’s no surprise that I didn’t know the 2011 Cheerdancing Competition was scheduled last Saturday. I stepped into the house from an out-of-town trip, then sat alone at the table to have a bite, with the TV was already on. I wondered who turned it on, no once was in sight.
Playing was the 74th UAAP Season’s Cheerdancing Competition (if they abbreviate it as CDC, should we spell it as Cheer Dancing Competition?). A cute girl wearing a maroon uniform was in the middle of introducing a team. Turned out she was introducing the defending champion, the UP Pep Squad. I didn’t know that. But since I’m from UP, I lingered for a while to check it out. Besides, I was still eating.
The Samsung Cheerdance graphics came in, fading out after a second.
All hell broke loose. Right then, right at the very first throw (later learned it’s called a four-pair double cuppie), I was hooked. Every time I tried to turn away, that UP Pep Squad performance pulled me back in.
I had no point of comparison, but I thought it was an amazing performance. Really, “amazing” is an understatement. As the UP Pep Squad launched into continuous, fast-paced stunts, all I could mutter were single syllables.
Wow! Grabe. Pucha. Galing. Lupettttttttttt! Other synonyms were used, of course, but those are words not fit for writing.
I was frantically glancing if someone else is in the room, with my eyes not leaving the screen for more than a second. It was not the “guilty” glance, not the awkward scenario wherein you don’t want to people hear what you’re saying or see what you’re watching (it’s a cheerdance, for crying out loud). I was actually looking for a soul to share my amazement. Just like making a life-changing discovery, I felt I had to tell someone about it.
How to describe it? I have absolutely no idea. I could give a pretty good description of other sports, basketball or boxing perhaps, but not cheerleading. So allow me to quote Jason Doplito:
The ladies were just as strong; in the routine’s first pyramid (0:47), four mid-fliers balanced five top fliers on their thighs, shoulders and arms. You can also just imagine the strain this placed on the four bases below. The way this pyramid was mounted—the third set of fliers were merely thrown to the top—made this an extremely difficult stunt.
The team launched into full-on assault mode beginning at the 3:26 mark with six scorpions (3:31) to arabesque (3:37) with full-down dismount. Four fliers performed a double back handspring to cradle position (3:44) and then from an extended level, they were tossed to a single-base extension (3:47), dismounting with a bird-front. The craziness continued as they did four rewinds (3:57) finishing with a double full-down dismount. At 4:23, two fliers did a double full twist, the team’s most complicated tosses for this piece.
If you can’t picture it out, then I suggest you watch it yourself. Here’s the clearest shot. Here’s another good angle. You have seen it already, I figure. If you watched it again, and again, consider yourself normal. I watched it more than a hundred times. And, still, I can’t get enough of it.
My wife told me to stop watching it. It’s bordering on obsession, she said. She may be right. I don’t know. I’m trying to figure out why I’m stuck to this performance.
Maybe it’s the leather getup, usually associated with rock stars or sexually-charged personalities. Maybe that made it ok to watch. Maybe it’s the speed, strength and power shown in the entire performance, which made it ok to watch. The blondes, must be the blondes, the way they flip their hair and shake their heads. I later learned that all members of the team, plus a whole lot of students, went through hours of bleaching their hairs for the Madonna-inspired performance.
Maybe it’s the swagger. Ang angas tingnan. Maangas na nakakatuwa. The confidence is there. The joy in the performance shows. I thought, wow, they make it all look so easy. I saw the aura of the other UAAP teams in the competition, not the same.
Stunts after stunts, flips and throws, what-have-you. It’s like a fast-paced movie without dead air. If this is chicken, this is sarap to the bones (apologies to Max’s).
Maybe it’s my heart swelling with pride of my alma matter. ‘Ika nga, basketball na lang, pwede na.
The dance routine is graceful. And how those lady cheerdancers prance and jump around, like nuclear-powered Energizer bunnies, simply a joy to watch. They look like my toddler, who flicks her foot and waives her arms, running around with boundless energy (only the Pep Squad flies with coordinated grace).
That must be it. Then again, maybe not. Baka di talaga pwede sabihin. Maybe if I watch it again, I’ll discover the reason. Now, where’s that video? I hate to get hooked next season and get stuck watching the video for a million times. Darn you, UP Pep, for turning me into a fan.
