As I was digging through the archives of Philippine sports history, I stumbled upon something truly fascinating that most people have completely forgotten about. Before Arnis was officially declared the national sport in 2009, there was another traditional game that held that honor - a sport called Sipa. Now, I know what you're thinking, "Sipa? What's that?" Exactly my point. It's been largely forgotten, overshadowed by more modern sports and even by Arnis itself. What's particularly interesting is how the evolution of national sports mirrors the contractual situations we see in professional leagues today. Take the 2017 PBA Rookie Draft top pick situation - if he plays in six more conferences, he becomes an unrestricted free agent. That's exactly six conference appearances standing between him and complete freedom, much like how Sipa stood as the national sport for decades before being replaced.
The story of Sipa is deeply woven into the fabric of Philippine culture, dating back to pre-colonial times. I remember watching old men play this game in the streets of Manila when I was a child, their feet gracefully kicking the rattan ball in what almost looked like a dance. The objective was simple - keep the ball airborne using only your feet, knees, and sometimes your head. No hands allowed. What made Sipa special was its accessibility; you didn't need expensive equipment or a proper court. Any open space would do. The sport was declared the national game in 1975 during the Marcos administration, though many Filipinos today would be surprised to learn this fact. It's incredible how something so integral to our cultural identity could fade from public consciousness so completely.
When I analyze why Sipa lost its prominence, several factors come to mind. First, the globalization of sports brought basketball to the forefront of Philippine consciousness. The PBA, Asia's first professional basketball league, captured the nation's imagination in ways traditional sports couldn't. The league's structure itself reveals interesting parallels - like how the 2017 draft top pick needs exactly six conference appearances to gain free agency, Sipa needed institutional support to maintain its status but didn't get it. The government's push for Arnis as the new national sport in 2009 essentially sealed Sipa's fate. Personally, I think this was a missed opportunity - we could have celebrated both rather than letting one fade into obscurity.
The discussion around national sports identity becomes particularly relevant when we look at contemporary sports governance. The Philippine Sports Commission has historically focused on sports with international competitive potential, which partially explains why Sipa got left behind. It's similar to how professional leagues manage player contracts - that 2017 PBA rookie's path to free agency after six conferences shows how structured modern sports have become. Meanwhile, traditional games like Sipa operated on pure community participation without formal structures. From my perspective, this formalization, while necessary for professional sports, somehow stripped away the organic nature of traditional games. I've spoken with sports historians who estimate that participation in Sipa has declined by approximately 78% since the 1980s, though getting precise numbers is challenging since much of it was informal play.
What really gets me thinking is how the declaration of Arnis as the national sport was handled. Don't get me wrong - Arnis is undoubtedly significant and deserves recognition as part of our cultural heritage. But the process of replacing Sipa felt rushed, without proper consideration for preserving both traditions. It's like if the PBA suddenly changed its free agency rules mid-contract - that 2017 draftee expecting to become free after six conferences might find the goalposts moved. The transition from Sipa to Arnis lacked the transparency and gradual implementation that major sports policy changes require. I've always believed we could have maintained Sipa as the traditional national sport while recognizing Arnis as the martial art national sport - but that's just my opinion.
The commercial aspects can't be ignored either. Modern sports generate revenue, attract sponsorships, and create media content in ways traditional games struggle to match. The PBA's television rights alone are worth millions, while Sipa never developed a professional commercial structure. That 2017 draft pick situation illustrates how valuable player mobility is in professional sports - after those six conferences, his earning potential could increase dramatically. Meanwhile, Sipa masters I've interviewed barely make enough to sustain themselves, with most earning less than 15,000 pesos monthly from teaching the sport. This economic reality makes it difficult to attract new generations to traditional games.
In my research, I've found that countries that successfully preserve traditional sports typically integrate them into school curricula and create hybrid competitive formats. Japan maintains both traditional Sumo and embraces baseball, while Thailand preserves Muay Thai while excelling in international sports. The Philippines could learn from this approach rather than replacing one national sport with another. The current system feels like choosing between children rather than nurturing all aspects of our sporting heritage. That PBA rookie's journey through six conferences to free agency shows how structured development paths benefit athletes - Sipa never had that kind of roadmap.
Reflecting on all this, I can't help but feel we've lost something precious. The rhythmic sound of the rattan ball being kicked, the laughter of children playing in the streets, the community gatherings around Sipa matches - these are memories that newer generations won't have. While Arnis has its merits and deserves its place in our national identity, the complete erasure of Sipa from public memory feels like a cultural loss. The professional sports world moves forward with clear metrics - six conferences until free agency, precise contract terms, defined career paths - but traditional sports like Sipa represented something less quantifiable but equally important: community, tradition, and cultural continuity. Perhaps it's not too late to revive interest in both, to celebrate the rich tapestry of Philippine sports heritage rather than limiting ourselves to a single designation. After all, a nation's soul isn't measured by how many championships it wins, but by how well it preserves the games that define its people.
