Mellow touch stays with us

Lately I have developed the habit of You Tubing for music videos of songs I almost never hear on the radio anymore.

Take for example Kathe Green's Alone Again and Free. Nobody plays it anymore. Not even RJ 100.3 which is about the only FM radio station still playing the genre popularized by DWLL 94.7 in the late 70s and early 80s.

If you're about my age, chances are you also love this kind of music: Stonebolt's I Will Still Love You. Neil Sedaka's Perfect Strangers. Tavares' Hardcore Poetry. Dan Henry's 20 Minutes Before Takeoff. David Castle's Ten to Eight. Dan Hill's Sometimes When We Touch.

The list is endless, mostly those that comprise the soundtrack of our youth. But sadly no longer getting airtime they used to have back then.

Further back in the time when I was still required to sleep in midday lest I don't grow up, I remember At Seventeen by Janis Ian, Lovin' You by Minnie Ripperton, the only song whose second voice was provided by a bird.

When I was making an attempt to learn to play the guitar back in high school, I was bestfriends with Loving Arms, that hit by Rita Coolidge and Kris Kristofferson with the very arresting opening lines.

Love Won't Let Me Wait is ideal on a rainy evening when you're alone with the wife, and that's not just because of the sound of a woman moaning in the background.

Morning, Noon and Nightime fits any given Sunday, and when you're driving home tired from a long day in the office, Great Day should be it.

They don't make this kind of music anymore. Probably they still do, but the kind of stuff they're coming out with no longer has that same effect on us.

Goma and I didn't shave last Sunday

ATHLETES and show biz stars go about in worlds that intersect, and in my line of work, it's not a rare chance when I get to mingle with movie and television personalities from time to time – even when I'm actually covering professional sports. Like baseball.

This was last Sunday when the sun didn't feel like showing up all day. The first game between Manila and Dumaguete was rained out but organizers decided that the pitch was dry enough to let the match pitting Cebu and Makati go ahead.

Cebu, in case anybody bothered to know, is the defending champion in Baseball Philippines. It boasts of one of the country's best pitchers like 27-year-old Joseph Orillana, and a host big hitters like veteran Joel Binarao and upstarts Miggy Corcuera and Nico Uichico.

And, of course, it has the most famous rightfielder in the land – movie actor Richard Gomez.

For some reason, Gomez seemed to excel in just about any sports he went into, namely golf, rowing, fencing, trap shooting. In most of which he became member of the national team and won Southeast Asian Games gold medals.

Baseball, though, is a different story. He is seldom used, and when he gets called from the dugout, he is often struck out, either swinging or standing -- which only meant that he didn't get to swing the bat at all.

And so it surprised everybody at Rizal Ballpark when, on the top of the second inning, he actually hit a linedrive to the right for an RBI single. In basketball, that is about as spectacular as scoring a jumper off a tight defense.

Just the same, his feat didn't merit an interview from the sportswriters who went for Binarao who in the same game hit a grandslam or a four-run homerun – which in basketball is the equivalent of a game-winning slam dunk that even drew a foul.

Gomez just stood there as the reporters milled around the day's hero. But of course, you don't ignore a show biz icon like him. When he was introduced to me, I shook his hands and made small talk like we're friends from way back.

``Pare, hataw yung second inning mo, RBI single yun ah,'' I told him.

``Onga, medyo maganda ang hitting namin,'' he said.

``You remember your championship match last year, when you hit a triple (when the game was all but won by Cebu already and it actually didn't matter anymore)?'' I said. ``I wrote you a feature story for Inquirer.''

``Kaw ba yun?,'' Gomez said, his eyes brightened up. ``Pare thank you, may clippings ako nun.''

We exchanged high fives.

Listen, standing close to him I realized he wasn't that tall. If I only stood straight and didn't wear flat sneakers, I'd probably be about his height. He is also as dark-skinned as I am. His face was small and covered with two-day old stubble.

I also went out of the house that day without shaving. And later after talking to him when I looked in the mirror, I realized something:

If I squint my eyes hard enough, and probably lose some pounds, and maybe straighten my spongey hair, we actually look alike.