The Power of Heroes: How Athletes Build Communities Beyond the Game
There’s something profoundly moving about watching a nation rally behind a single individual. When Alex Eala clinched her first WTA Tour title, it wasn’t just a tennis victory—it was a cultural moment. Personally, I think what makes this particularly fascinating is how quickly it transcended the sport itself. Suddenly, Filipinos who couldn’t tell a backhand from a forehand were debating her technique, dreaming of Grand Slams, and googling tennis clinics. But here’s the thing: it wasn’t tennis they fell in love with—it was Alex.
This phenomenon isn’t new. If you take a step back and think about it, Manny Pacquiao did the same thing for boxing decades ago. The streets would empty, families would gather, and for a few hours, an entire nation would share the same heartbeat. What many people don’t realize is that these moments aren’t just about sports—they’re about community. They’re about finding a shared story in a world that’s increasingly fragmented.
In my opinion, this is where media often misses the mark. We’re so focused on metrics, algorithms, and engagement rates that we forget the human element. What this really suggests is that people don’t just crave content—they crave connection. And athletes like Alex, Manny, and Alyssa Valdez are the perfect catalysts for that connection.
One thing that immediately stands out is how these athletes become more than just sports stars. They’re symbols of possibility, resilience, and national pride. When Alyssa Valdez dominated the volleyball court, she didn’t just attract volleyball fans—she created them. People didn’t start by loving the sport; they started by loving her. This raises a deeper question: What if the key to building a community isn’t the game itself, but the people who play it?
From my perspective, this is a lesson media and brands should take to heart. When I was part of building ABS-CBN Sports, our chairman, Gabby Lopez, used to challenge us with questions that seemed simple but were profoundly insightful. Like, why does it take so long for the score to update? His point wasn’t about technology—it was about respect for the audience. If you take care of the people, the business will follow.
A detail that I find especially interesting is how we expanded our approach beyond the game. We didn’t just broadcast matches; we told stories. The boxer training barefoot. The student-athlete juggling exams and practice. The parents making sacrifices. These stories humanized the athletes, and in doing so, they humanized the sports.
But the real magic happened in the outermost circle: the community. Fan festivals, grassroots clinics, school visits—these weren’t just PR stunts. They were moments where fans didn’t just watch together; they belonged together. What this really suggests is that community isn’t built through screens or algorithms—it’s built through shared experiences.
If you ask me, this is what social media gets wrong. We talk about “building community” as if it’s a new concept, but sports has been doing it for decades. Long before likes and follows, sports understood that people gather around stories, not statistics. They gather around heroes, not highlights.
Looking at the future, I can’t help but wonder: Can other industries learn from this? Can media, brands, and even governments create their own versions of Alex Eala or Manny Pacquiao? Personally, I think they can—but only if they stop treating audiences as data points and start treating them as people.
In the end, the game is just the beginning. The community is the destination. And as someone who’s spent decades in media, I can tell you this: the most powerful stories aren’t the ones we tell—they’re the ones we live together.
