A sporting chance in a win-at-all-costs world

It was Feb. 13th, the last day of the nine-round chess competition at the National Journalists Games (Porwanas) in Pekanbaru, Riau.

Although I had no chance of winning a medal in the individual competition, my teammate Rela Ginting, a National Master, was hopeful of bringing Jakarta gold in the team event in his last match.

We set out from the hotel in high spirits. It was a 20-minute drive to the venue, along a new two-lane highway and past an almost completed mall, concrete symbols of the oil-rich province's desire to stamp its identity in the age of autonomy.

As we drove, my mind could not help wander to what a gold medal would mean. Usually limited to reporting on the sporting exploits of others, I would now get to bask in the moment of being the hero, applauded for bringing Jakarta a rare medal.

A bonus? Well, why not? Bonuses are something to hope for, or even to fight for (case in point in badminton player Taufik Hidayat and official Icuk Sugiarto almost coming to blows on Tuesday over its distribution).

But it was a passing hope; a contingent official had told us we were lucky to make it to the event, with several corporations that earlier pledged funds withdrawing them after the terrible Dec. 26 tsunami.

Even with the calls for the games to be scrapped altogether and the money contributed to rebuilding Aceh, Porwanas, in conjunction with National Press Day on Dec. 10, had gone ahead.

A medal around my neck, I thought, would be the final, crowning glory on my hiatus spent freed from newsroom deadlines and enjoying the trappings of an athlete competing for his team.

It began upon arrival, as I was quickly ushered through the security checkpoint in my red-and-white jersey, my luggage taken care of and safely deposited in my hotel.

I was one of 1,800 representatives from 32 contingents competing in 12 sports: athletics, chess, badminton, billiards, bowling, bridge, rowing, swimming, soccer, tennis, table tennis and volleyball.

The opening ceremony, with a mass dance by 1,000 students and a skydiving performance, heightened the mood. In our official team uniforms, we walked past the honorary podium, taking off our hats to acknowledge the dignitaries.

"Good luck, and uphold sportsmanship," declared a chairman of the organizing committee.

Unfortunately, it quickly became clear that the second part of his message was in short supply on the courts, pitches and stadiums where the competitions played out.

For many of the supposed "journalists" were nothing of the sort. Instead, some contingents had recruited skilled amateurs to compete in their win-at-all-costs quest for medals.

Real journalists were competing against opponents who were way out of their league.

It appeared the host team was especially guilty of this practice, perhaps seeking to justify the Rp 6 billion expenditure to its people with a bumper haul of medals.

A Papuan volleyball team, finding itself up against the host team allegedly fielding six nonjournalists, played for a few seconds, and then gave up in mock surrender.

In the soccer final between Riau and Jakarta, the visitors, trailing 1-2, refused to play the last 15 minutes because, they said, the referee was partial.

Even locals were disgusted by the sham.

"I really deplore this act. We all know we have been fighting against bogus journalists ... but how can it happen that we accommodate them to play in this event?" said a caller to a TV talk show.

On that final day, we experienced the dodgy practices for ourselves.

The match, with Rela taking on a local favorite, began 30 minutes earlier than scheduled, with nobody bothering to inform us.

With Rela racing against time to avoid being defaulted, we arrived. Then fans swirling above came to a halt. "The electricity cut out," an official said.

Rela was in a winning position but ran out of time. To our surprise -- like magic, or perhaps conforming to a carefully devised "game plan" -- the fans suddenly went on again.

Still, our team took the bronze.

Back in Jakarta a few days later, I met Rela's conqueror in a qualifying tournament for the 2005 SEA Games in Manila.

"What a tight competition it is here," he said. "But I'll try to do my best, in order to keep my bosses back at the freight shipment company smiling."

Winning and losing is not all the same, after all. Others can have their gold medals, but I have my own taking pride of place in my home.

And I won it fair and square. -- Musthofid