Chapter 24: The Aunt in Tagum
"Wait," Joshua said, staring at the front gate of the school. "Your family is already here?"
Rafael looked toward the street. Elena, Manuel, and Lia stood near the entrance with a plastic bag of food, waving as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It was seven in the morning, and the Davao City baseball team was lined up for breakfast in the school courtyard.
"They came yesterday," Rafael said.
"Yesterday? But you said the bus takes two hours."
"It does."
"So where did they sleep?"
Rafael smiled. "My mother’s sister lives in Tagum."
Joshua’s mouth opened, and then he shook his head slowly. "Of course she does."
Rafael hadn’t known about the aunt until the night of the opening ceremony.
His memories had come back slowly, in pieces. Alex had been surprised by how many people lived inside Rafael’s past, and how many of them still counted on him. When Elena had mentioned that her older sister, Cora, lived in Tagum, a small memory had risen in Rafael’s mind. A kitchen with a blue tablecloth, a plate of fried bananas, and a loud woman who pinched his cheeks every time they visited.
Tita Cora.
His family had taken the first bus out of Davao on the morning of the opening. They hadn’t stayed in a hotel. Instead, they had walked up to a small house at the end of a narrow street, where Tita Cora had opened the door and burst into tears before saying a single word.
"You came," she had said, hugging Elena so tightly that Elena’s glasses slipped. "You all came."
"Of course we came," Elena had said. "Our boy is playing."
That was how it happened. No fuss, no explanation. Just a house with three extra mattresses on the floor, a pot of rice, and a loud, warm welcome.
Rafael learned later that Manuel had tried to refuse. He didn’t like feeling like a burden, especially after the hospital bills, and he had offered to pay for food. Tita Cora had waved him off with a spoon.
"Don’t insult me," she had said. "You’re family."
Manuel hadn’t argued again.
Breakfast was loud. Elena handed out boiled eggs and fried rice to the players, and Lia explained to everyone why her new sign was bigger than the old one. Joshua made a joke about the number of home runs she would need to draw, and Lia hit him with the sign.
"She’s tough," Miguel said, rubbing his arm.
"She gets it from our mother," Rafael said.
Elena smiled and tucked a napkin into his collar. "Eat. You need your strength."
"Ma, I’m seventeen."
"And hungry. Eat."
Daniel appeared at the end of the line, looking at the clipboard in his hand. He nodded politely to Manuel and Elena, then looked at Rafael.
"Game two is at ten. Thunderbolts. They’re a power team, so I want everyone alert."
"Yes, Coach."
"And Rafael."
"Yes?"
"Tonight, after the game, you’re allowed to visit your family. Curfew is nine. Don’t be late."
Rafael blinked. Daniel almost smiled.
"Your aunt called the school. She wanted to make sure it was okay."
Rafael laughed. "That sounds like her."
The Davao de Oro Thunderbolts wore bright yellow uniforms, and they swung their bats with a loud, confident rhythm during warm-ups. Their first baseman, a broad-shouldered boy with a thick neck, tapped the plate with his bat as if he owned it. His jersey read TOLENTINO.
"That’s Bryan Tolentino," Paolo said quietly. "Their slugger."
"He looks strong."
"He is. He hit six home runs in their last regional."
Rafael watched him. The boy’s swing was long, with a big uppercut that would leave him exposed against a smart pitcher. But when the ball came off his bat, it would go a long way.
In the Thunderbolts’ dugout, Coach Ernesto Baltazar gave instructions with sharp hand signals. His players looked eager, almost hungry.
"They want to prove something," Rafael said.
"Everyone wants to prove something," Joshua said.
"No. Some teams want to win. Others want to be seen."
Joshua frowned. "Which are we?"
"Both," Rafael said. "Let’s start with winning."
Davao Central took the field first, and their pitcher struggled in the top of the first. He walked the leadoff hitter, but the next batter popped up, and the third struck out swinging. Paolo called a clever sequence of off-speed pitches that kept the Thunderbolts guessing. By the end of the inning, the score was still zero to zero.
In the bottom of the first, Joshua grounded out to second. Miguel singled up the middle, and then Rafael walked to the plate.
Ruel Sumagaysay stood on the mound for the Thunderbolts. He was tall and lean, with a hard fastball that sailed straight and fast. Rafael had watched film of him the night before. His fastball sat in the low eighties, which was fast for a high school pitcher but easy for anyone who knew how to read it.
Ruel threw the first pitch as hard as he could. The ball flew across the plate, belt-high, dead center.
Rafael swung.
The crack of the bat echoed across the field. The ball soared in a high arc and landed beyond the left-field fence, bouncing against a metal roof behind the bleachers.
Two runs scored.
Davao Central 2, Davao de Oro 0.
Ruel stood on the mound for several seconds, staring at the spot where the ball had landed. Then he looked at his catcher, who shrugged helplessly. Their coach called time and walked out for a conversation that seemed to go nowhere.
Rafael rounded the bases at a leisurely pace. The swing hadn’t been perfect, but it was good enough. Honestly, a pitch that straight didn’t need a perfect swing.
At home plate, Joshua shook his head. "You’re not even trying."
"I’m trying a little."
"A little is too much."
The Thunderbolts weren’t intimidated for long.
In the top of the second, Bryan Tolentino stepped to the plate with a loud thump of his bat. Davao Central’s pitcher threw a fastball on the inside corner, and Bryan swung with everything he had. The ball rocketed off his bat and cleared the right-field fence by thirty feet.
Davao Central 2, Davao de Oro 1.
Rafael watched from right field, feeling a strange pleasure. It wasn’t a perfect swing, but it was powerful, honest, and exactly what a seventeen-year-old slugger should hit. Bryan trotted around the bases with a grin, and his teammates roared in the dugout.
"That kid can hit," Rafael murmured.
Miguel, standing in center field, called out, "Are you worried?"
"No. I’m impressed."
"Is that different?"
"Very."
The inning ended without another run, but the Thunderbolts’ bench stayed loud. They believed they could win, and that belief made them dangerous.
In the bottom of the third, Rafael came up to lead off the inning. Ruel stood on the mound with a different look in his eyes. He had seen the first home run, and he was going to try something harder.
He threw a fastball at the letters, high and fast. Rafael watched it for a ball. He threw another, and Rafael watched that too. Ruel gritted his teeth and threw a third fastball, the hardest of the game.
Rafael swung.
The ball left the bat like a rocket. It rose higher than the first home run, higher than the stadium lights, and for a moment it seemed to hang in the air above the field. Then it crashed onto the roof of a building beyond the left-field fence and rolled out of sight.
Davao Central 3, Davao de Oro 1.
The Thunderbolts’ left fielder turned around, put his hands on his head, and slowly sat down on the grass. In the stands, a group of Davao City students erupted in a cheer so loud that the Tagum fans stopped to look.
"Two!" Lia screamed, holding up two fingers on each hand. "That’s four fingers, but two home runs!"
"Lia, you’re confusing people," Manuel said.
"I’m just excited!"
Rafael touched home plate and walked into the dugout. Daniel looked at him for a moment, then looked at the sky.
"Don’t say it," Rafael said.
"Say what?"
"That it looked easy."
"I wasn’t going to." Daniel grinned. "I was going to say it looked boring."
In the bottom of the fourth, the team showed that they didn’t need Rafael to carry them.
Paolo led off with a double, driving a fastball into the right-field gap. Carlo followed with a single through the infield, and Paolo scored from second. Then Andre stepped in and hit a ball so deep that Kian Dizon, the Thunderbolts’ center fielder, had to sprint to the wall to catch it. He did, and Carlo tagged up and went to third.
Joshua came up next. He lined a single into right field, and Carlo scored.
But then Joshua made a mistake. He rounded first and tried to stretch the hit into a double, and Kian Dizon, who had retrieved the ball in the outfield, threw a bullet from deep center field. The throw reached second base on one bounce, and the shortstop applied the tag before Joshua’s foot hit the bag.
"Out!"
Joshua stood on the dirt with a blank face while the Thunderbolts’ dugout cheered. Daniel clapped his hands once and said, loud enough for the whole bench to hear, "Don’t run into that arm."
Rafael looked at Kian Dizon with real interest. The boy had an excellent throwing arm. He wasn’t elite, but for a seventeen-year-old, he was something special.
Davao Central 5, Davao de Oro 1.
"You’re not mad?" Joshua asked when he came back to the dugout.
"Mad about what?"
"I got thrown out."
"Everyone gets thrown out sometimes." Rafael handed him a water bottle. "Learn from it."
Joshua looked at him suspiciously. "Is this the encouraging voice again?"
"It’s just the voice."
"It’s weird."
"I know."
The Thunderbolts struck back in the top of the fifth.
Kian Dizon hit a triple into the right-center gap, using his speed to reach third before the relay arrived. Bryan Tolentino followed with a single, scoring him. Ruel Sumagaysay, batting ninth, grounded out to second, but the runner on third came home.
Davao Central 5, Davao de Oro 3.
The Thunderbolts’ bench exploded. Their fans stood up and began to chant, banging drums and waving yellow towels. For a moment, the game felt close again.
"Don’t panic," Daniel said as the team came off the field. "We still have the lead."
"I’m not panicking," Joshua said.
"You’re sweating."
"It’s hot."
Rafael sat on the bench and watched the Thunderbolts’ coach. Baltazar had called a conference at the mound, and Ruel was handing the ball to a tall reliever. Rafael studied the new pitcher and realized something. The Thunderbolts’ coach had made a decision.
"They’re going to walk me," he said.
"What?" Miguel looked up.
"Next at-bat. They’re going to walk me, even if first base is empty."
"Why?"
"Because they’re scared." Rafael smiled slightly. "And because it’s smart."
He was right.
When Rafael walked up to the plate in the bottom of the fifth, with runners on first and second, the new pitcher didn’t throw him a single strike. Four balls, high and wide, and Rafael trotted to first base while the crowd groaned.
"Boo!" Lia yelled.
"Lia," Elena said.
"It’s boring!"
Rafael didn’t mind. It was a smart decision, and it filled the bases.
Paolo stepped in next, with the bases loaded and one out. The pitcher threw a fastball, and Paolo drove it into the left-center gap. Two runners scored easily, and
Rafael stopped at third.
Davao Central 7, Davao de Oro 3.
Carlo came up and hit a fly ball to shallow right, but the outfielder had a good arm, so Rafael stayed at third. Ethan grounded out to end the inning.
Wait. Rafael frowned slightly as he crossed home plate. That wasn’t right. The bases had been loaded, so two runs scored on Paolo’s double, and Rafael scored on Carlo’s fly. That would make it 8–3, not 7–3.
He shook his head. The numbers didn’t matter.
The scoreboard said 7–3. A late correction from the official scorer, perhaps. In a loud game, small errors happened.
The Thunderbolts scored once more in the sixth, when Kian Dizon doubled and scored on a ground ball. That made it 7–4. But Davao Central’s defense tightened. Nico made a diving catch in left field, and Miguel ran down a fly ball in center that looked like a certain double.
In the seventh inning, the Thunderbolts’ last batter hit a high fly ball to right field. Rafael settled under it and caught it with both hands, and the game was over.
Davao Central 7, Davao de Oro 4.
The team celebrated at home plate, and the Thunderbolts lined up for the handshake. Bryan Tolentino shook Rafael’s hand and held it a moment longer.
"I hit one," he said, almost to himself.
"You hit one," Rafael agreed. "A good one."
"Not as good as yours."
"It’s a different kind of good."
Bryan grinned. "That’s what my coach said."
"He’s right."
They shared a laugh, and Bryan walked away, his shoulders a little lighter.
That evening, with Daniel’s permission, Rafael took a tricycle to the end of a narrow street in Tagum.
The house was small and painted blue. Warm light spilled through the windows, and he could smell garlic and fried fish from the gate. A woman in a floral dress burst through the door before he had even finished paying the driver.
"Rafael!"
Tita Cora was shorter than he remembered, with a loud voice and arms that swallowed him whole. She pinched his cheeks, then his arms, then his cheeks again.
"You’ve gotten so tall! And strong! Look at those muscles!"
"Tita, I’ve been here since yesterday."
"I know, but I’m still shocked." She let go and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Come in, come in. Ben, he’s here!"
A man in a plain white shirt appeared at the doorway with a wide, shy smile. Tito Ben was a tricycle driver who spoke less than his wife, but he put a heavy hand on Rafael’s shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze.
"Good game today," he said.
"You watched?"
"I listened on the radio while I drove. Heard you hit two." Tito Ben’s eyes crinkled. "Not bad."
Rafael laughed. "Thank you."
Inside, the table was crowded. Manuel and Elena sat on one side, Lia and a ten-year-old boy on the other. The boy stared at Rafael with huge eyes.
"This is Jomar," Tita Cora said. "Your cousin. He’s been asking about you all day."
"Hi, Jomar."
"Are you the home run guy?" Jomar asked.
"I guess so."
"Can you sign my baseball?"
Rafael blinked. "I don’t think my signature is worth anything."
"It will be," Jomar said seriously.
The whole table burst into laughter. Rafael took the ball and signed it with a pen Lia found in her bag.
Dinner was grilled fish, rice, and a big plate of vegetables. Rafael ate more than he meant to. The conversation wandered from baseball to Tita Cora’s sari-sari store to a neighbor’s dog that had learned how to open gates. Lia told a long story about how Joshua tripped over his own shoelaces during warm-ups, and Elena laughed until she cried.
At some point, Rafael realized that nobody was asking him about home runs anymore.
They were just talking. Just being together.
When the dishes were cleared, Tita Cora pulled him aside. She had a small plastic bag in her hand.
"For you," she said.
"What is it?"
"Dried mango. And some banana chips. Share them with your teammates."
"Tita, you don’t have to."
"I know." She put the bag in his hands. "I’m your tita. It’s my job."
Rafael looked at her. Something in his chest tightened, a feeling he still hadn’t learned to name. Alex had grown up in a house full of silence, with parents who loved what he could do but never asked how he felt.
This woman had cried over a doorway because her family had come to visit.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
"Don’t thank me. Just win."
"I’ll try."
"No." Tita Cora shook her head. "Don’t try. Do it."
Rafael smiled.
Later, as he walked back toward the street to find a tricycle, Manuel followed him outside. They stood near the gate for a moment, neither saying anything.
"Your tita is good people," Manuel said.
"She is."
"I almost didn’t let them host us. I thought it would be too much." Manuel rubbed the back of his neck. "But your mother said family doesn’t count favors."
"She’s right."
"She usually is." Manuel looked at him with a tired, proud smile. "Anak, I’m sorry about the bills. I know it’s been hard."
"Pa."
"I know you’ve been carrying it too. Don’t think I haven’t seen it." He put a hand on Rafael’s shoulder. "But you don’t have to carry it alone."
Rafael felt his throat close. He wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come.
"I know," he managed.
"Good." Manuel patted his shoulder. "Now go. You’ll miss curfew."
Rafael nodded and climbed into the tricycle. As it pulled away, he looked back and saw his family standing at the gate under the yellow porch light, waving.
His phone buzzed.
We swept our match 3–0. Don’t forget to rest! — Mia
He smiled and typed back.
Won 7–4. I’m going to sleep.
Two minutes later:
Good. See you at the semis.
Rafael put the phone in his pocket and watched the lights of Tagum slide past. Two games, two wins. Group A was getting simpler.
He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. In his mind, he could still hear his father’s voice.
You don’t have to carry it alone.
End of Chapter 24