In light of my last post, let’s delve into the rather puzzling name of our national football team: the Philippine “Azkals.” Because, honestly, what on earth?

I first encountered the Philippine Azkals on Facebook, amidst a sea of fervent admirers—mostly women—enthusiastically declaring their infatuation with the team’s dashing players. This roster is a curious blend of Filipinos and foreign imports, with the latter often stumbling through attempts at speaking Filipino. Unsurprisingly, it’s these foreign players who bask in the limelight. Thanks to the likes of Phil Younghusband, the Azkals have become a household name, albeit with a rather troubling undercurrent: a societal preference for mestizo or Eurocentric features over our own rich heritage. Wake me up when the Philippines stops putting these colonizing pale figures on a pedestal and when the media finally retires its obsession with skin-whitening products. But I digress.

The origin of our football team’s name is equally intriguing. Through research (I was bored, can you tell?) I found it began in an online sports forum, where the name “Calle Azul” (Streets of Blue) was suggested, referencing the color of their uniforms. It morphed into “Azul Calle,” then earned the nickname “AzCal,” before finally settling on “Azkals.” Here’s where it gets even more layered. “Askal” is a blend of “aso” (dog) and “kalye” (street), and if you’re feeling cheeky, you might call it “asong kalye,” which translates to “street dog.” These are the unfortunate byproducts of irresponsible pet ownership and unsustainable breeding practices—stray animals that roam the streets, often neglected and afflicted with a host of diseases, including skin infections, ticks, worms, and, yes, rabies. While they desperately need rescuing, most Filipinos seem apathetic. Askals are frequently regarded as nuisances, known for their propensity to chase and attack, whether provoked or not.

So here’s the kicker: why would we willingly associate our nation with a term that conjures images of rabid street dogs? Do we lack self-respect? Have the Jejemons truly triumphed? And why do I even care when I don’t follow football? Am I unwittingly becoming a Jejemon myself? These, my friends, are the pressing questions we must confront.