By Samantha Romero || Illustration by Rye Sacaben

We have a peculiar habit of celebrating athletes only after they have given us something to celebrate.

Victory makes admiration easy. A medal gives the public a reason to pay attention, sponsors a reason to invest, and the country a reason to claim these victories as its own. Once an athlete stands on the podium, years of discipline and sacrifice become visible in a single moment of triumph.

Carlos Yulo’s double-gold finish at the 2024 Paris Olympics earned him over ₱40 million in government incentives. The recognition was deserved. His triumph was the culmination of immense grit, and rewarding excellence is a legitimate way to honor it. Yet in July 2025, the Philippine Sports Commission (PSC) Chairman John Patrick Gregorio acknowledged that some national athletes received monthly allowances of only ₱10,200, below the minimum wage.

This figure points to a question beyond the size of any medal bonus: What support does a Filipino athlete receive before achieving the victory that makes them worth celebrating?

A reward recognizes what has already been accomplished. Support makes further accomplishment possible. The former looks back at a result; the latter sustains the work required to produce one. Both have a place in sports, but neither can substitute for the other.

The disparity of support becomes harder to ignore when athletes still representing the country struggle to finance their own preparation. On Sept. 26, Alas Pilipinas men’s team captain Bryan Bagunas disclosed that some teammates had borrowed money just to attend training because their allowances had gone unpaid since July. At times, only seven or eight players could attend practice because others could not afford transportation. These cases show how easily a national team can be sidelined by missing funds.

Athletes cannot be expected to perform at their best when the basic conditions for training remain uncertain. Skills require practice; practice requires time, facilities, coaching, equipment, and often money. When athletes must find ways to cover these necessities themselves, their development becomes vulnerable to circumstances beyond their control. Talent may open the door, but it cannot guarantee that an athlete will have the resources to walk through it.

This is especially consequential for young athletes outside established sporting centers. A student practicing on a provincial court may possess the discipline and potential to compete nationally, but ambition alone cannot pay for transportation to tournaments or access to better coaching. Without opportunities to develop, promising athletes may never reach the level at which their abilities become visible to selectors, sponsors, or the public.

The problem, then, is not that champions receive too much recognition. It is that the pathway to becoming one is often too difficult to sustain.

Of course, public resources are finite. Not every aspiring athlete can receive unlimited funding, and sports programs must determine how best to allocate their budgets. But limited resources make transparent criteria and dependable support more important, not less. Athletes should have a fair opportunity to develop through needs-based assistance, accessible training facilities, timely allowances, and competitive opportunities. Funding should account for the work required to improve, not merely the results that have already attracted attention.

A sporting system cannot build its future by looking only at its successes. Medals tell us who has reached the podium; they do not tell us how many athletes lacked the support to get there. Behind every celebrated victory are years of preparation, and behind every athlete still developing is the possibility of a breakthrough that has yet to come. That possibility is not a guarantee of future success, but it is a reason to invest in their development.

We Filipinos have never been short of pride in our athletes’ victories. Their achievements bring distinction to the country and demonstrate what discipline and opportunity can produce. But national pride should not begin only when the anthem plays and the medal is awarded. It should extend to the less visible work that comes before the early practices, the local competitions, the long commutes, and the difficult years when progress is real but recognition remains distant.

A winner’s head start is not a reward waiting at the finish line. It is the support that allows an athlete to keep moving toward it. If we want more champions, we must build a system that helps athletes develop before their names become familiar—and ensures that the pursuit of representing the country does not depend on whether they can afford to keep trying.