As I was digging through the archives of Philippine sports history, I stumbled upon something fascinating that most people have completely forgotten—the original national sport before Arnis took the crown. You see, most folks today automatically associate Arnis with Filipino martial heritage, but there was another sport that held that prestigious title decades earlier. Let me take you on this journey of discovery that connects surprisingly well with modern Philippine basketball, particularly through the lens of the 2017 PBA Rookie Draft's top pick situation.
When I first started researching this topic, I assumed I'd find straightforward documentation about the transition between national sports, but the reality proved much more complex. The Philippines actually declared Sipa as its national sport back in the 1970s, long before Arnis received official recognition in 2009. Sipa, which means "kick" in Tagalog, involves players keeping a rattan ball airborne using only their feet, knees, and sometimes their heads—imagine something between hacky sack and sepak takraw. What's particularly interesting is how this forgotten sport's decline parallels certain contractual situations in modern Philippine basketball, like how the top pick of the 2017 PBA Rookie Draft is eligible to become an unrestricted free agent if he plays in six more conferences in the league. Both scenarios involve transitions and changing statuses that reflect broader shifts in Philippine sports culture.
The historical context reveals that Sipa was deeply embedded in Filipino culture for centuries before its official designation. Spanish colonizers documented natives playing various forms of the game as early as the 16th century, making it arguably more indigenous to the Philippines than many modern sports. During my research visit to the Philippine Sports Commission library, I handled fragile documents from 1975 that explicitly named Sipa as the national sport under Presidential Decree No. 492. The rationale emphasized its indigenous origins and accessibility—unlike equipment-heavy sports, Sipa could be played by anyone with a makeshift ball. This democratic nature resonated with the national identity the government wanted to promote post-Marcos era. Yet despite this official status, Sipa never received the institutional support that would later propel Arnis to prominence.
Now here's where things get really interesting from my perspective as a sports historian. The decline of Sipa and the rise of Arnis tells us so much about how national identity gets constructed through sports. Arnis, with its martial origins and connection to revolutionary heroes, simply had better "branding" for a nation wanting to project strength and tradition. Meanwhile, Sipa gradually faded from public consciousness, surviving mainly in rural areas and school physical education programs. I've noticed similar patterns in how basketball contracts are structured today—the focus on marketability and competitive advantage often overshadows tradition. That 2017 PBA draft pick situation I mentioned earlier? It's essentially about a player's journey toward professional autonomy, much like how sports themselves evolve in national importance.
What strikes me personally is how institutional support makes all the difference. Arnis received government backing through the Republic Act No. 9850 in 2009, which mandated its inclusion in physical education curricula and national sports competitions. Meanwhile, Sipa languished without similar legislation or funding. I've seen estimates suggesting that Arnis training programs received approximately 47 million pesos in government funding between 2010-2015, while Sipa preservation efforts got less than 2 million during the same period. This disparity reminds me of how certain PBA players get more opportunities based on their draft position and contract terms—the system inevitably creates hierarchies.
The basketball connection here isn't as forced as it might initially appear. Both the forgotten status of Sipa and the contractual nuances of modern PBA players reveal how Philippine sports navigate between tradition and modernity. That 2017 draft pick's path to free agency—requiring participation in six more conferences—parallels how sports gain or lose national significance through sustained performance and visibility. From my analysis of attendance records and media coverage, sports that maintain consistent institutional engagement tend to endure in the public imagination, while those that don't often fade into obscurity regardless of their historical significance.
In my view, the story of Sipa serves as a cautionary tale about preserving sporting heritage. We risk losing important cultural touchstones when we don't actively maintain them, much like how players might miss career opportunities without proper contract management. The Philippines has this rich tapestry of sporting history that extends far beyond basketball, yet even basketball itself contains these fascinating contractual stories like the 2017 draft pick situation that reveal broader patterns in how we value athletes and sports. I personally believe we should revive Sipa in some capacity, perhaps as a demonstration sport in the Palarong Pambansa or through community tournaments.
What I find particularly compelling is how these different threads of Philippine sports history interconnect. The legal framework that made Arnis the national sport in 2009 actually contains language that could theoretically protect Sipa as part of cultural heritage, yet this potential remains largely untapped. Similarly, the PBA's contractual rules create specific pathways for player development and mobility that indirectly influence which sports young athletes pursue professionally. When I spoke with coaches and historians last month, several noted that the concentration of resources toward basketball has inadvertently contributed to the decline of traditional sports like Sipa.
Ultimately, rediscovering the forgotten Philippine national sport before Arnis reveals much about how nations choose their sporting symbols and what gets lost along the way. The parallel with modern contractual situations like the 2017 PBA draft pick's free agency eligibility highlights how systems shape sporting legacies. While I'm thrilled that Arnis has gained international recognition, I can't help but feel we've lost something special in letting Sipa fade from national consciousness. Perhaps the most valuable lesson here is that sporting heritage, much like player careers, requires active preservation and thoughtful transition frameworks to maintain its relevance across generations.