28/05/2025
A First in Twelve Years: When Quinjune’s Parents Finally Watched Him Play
I messaged Quinjune a day after the tournament. It was a simple question: How did your parents feel seeing you play in person?
His reply caught me off guard—not because it was dramatic, but because it wasn’t. It was honest, quiet, and deeply moving.
In his twelve years of playing Ultimate, this was the first time his parents had ever watched him compete live. Not through a choppy livestream or a few scattered updates from social media. This time, they were actually there—on the sideline, seeing their son not just play, but exist in the world he’s devoted more than a decade to.
“They didn’t say much,” he told me. “But I could tell—they were amazed.”
He said it like a man who had waited years for that moment, even if he never asked for it outright. Seeing him up close, they noticed things the screen could never show: the pace, the control, the split-second decisions. “They realized I’m still fast,” he added with a chuckle. “Even if I’ve slowed down a bit—Daddy na eh.”
It wasn’t just the game that left an impression. His parents saw something else: the community. The noise, the laughter, the way players from different teams greeted each other like old friends. “They found the Ultimate community really fun,” Quinjune said. “They were surprised at how everyone seemed to know each other, like one big family.”
That sense of belonging—that invisible thread that ties players together—became visible to them for the first time.
His parents are still based in Kabankalan. He had asked them to come up so his father could meet the baby. Their apo. After the visit, his mother returned to Manila with him while his father stayed behind. “They’re doing well,” he said. “Happy and healthy—and for that, I’m really thankful.”
There was something quietly powerful in the way he said it. No big declarations. Just gratitude—for their presence, for their health, and for that long-awaited moment when his worlds finally met.
Not every story in sports ends in a medal. Some end with a glance from the sidelines, a quiet nod from a parent, and a memory that will stay long after the cleats are packed away.
For Quinjune, that moment has finally come. And it was worth the wait.
I’m so damn proud of this young man.
