Calling Ricardo

By now, most everybody must have said their piece about Ricardo Cardinal Vidal, the well-loved former Cebu archbishop emeritus who passed away last Wednesday at the age of 86, just a few years into his retirement. I share many of the thoughts said in his name and can add no more without sounding like someone who knew the man more than I actually did.

So let me just share instead an incident that happened in the office many years ago, an incident that Cardinal Vidal had absolutely nothing to do with but was everything about him. I am recounting this now with no irreverence intended but rather a fondness for a man whose influence on our lives sometimes inspires all sorts of things, from genuine reverence to plain mischief. This is about the latter.

This anecdote took place back in the 1980s, when editorial operations of The FREEMAN still revolved in a small 10m x 10m square office. Right smack in the middle of one wall was a white board for messages. On that particular day, a cryptic message in big bold capital letters appeared: “GABBY RETURN CALL RICARDO.” There being no other Gabby in the office, the message was assumed to be for Gabby Malagar, sports reporter extraordinaire.

When Gabby arrived and saw the message, and realized it did not make sense, he promptly boomed in his usually gruff way of speaking when antagonized: “Haskang buanga! Unsaon man nako ani pag-return call nga wa may number! Wa man koy kaila nga Ricardo!” (How foolish! How can I make a return call when there is no number! I do not know any Ricardo!). Nobody in the cramped office knew either.

It was at this point that I started the mischief rolling. I told Gabby that there was actually a number to go with the name, only that it was not posted along with the message. I told Gabby the number was with Cerwin Eviota, the news editor who was in-charge of posting messages and assignments on the board. I nodded toward Cerwin, who quickly caught on to what was starting to unfold.

Cerwin pretended to fish around inside one of his drawers and came up with a piece of paper. On it he scrawled a number and handed it to Gabby, who promptly started dialing. When the other end picked up the phone, Gabby, again gruffly, asked: “Hello? Naa’s Ricardo?” (Is Ricardo there?) There was a long silence at the other end. Finally, after perhaps recovering from the assault, the voice slowly said: “Hello?” To which Gabby repeated his original demand: “Naa’s Ricardo?” “Tabi, kinsa diay ni?” (May I know who is calling please), the other end asked. Gabby: “Si Gabby Malagar ni, sa FREEMAN!” (This is Gabby Malagar of FREEMAN). “Aw Gab, si Monsignor Dakay ni. Ngano man ta?” (Oh Gab, this is Monsignor Dakay. What can I do for you?), the other end said. Gabby: “Aw Mons, sorry. Naa’s Ricardo diha? (Oh Mons, sorry. Is Ricardo there?) The other end, incredulous, said: “Gab, ang Ricardo diri si cardinal ra man!” (Gab, the only Ricardo here is the cardinal).

Gabby hung up and everybody laughed, even Gabby, who thought it was all a funny mistake. But the laughter did not die down even after everyone started to get back to work. Finally, at some point, Gabby saw through the joke and when he saw Tonee Despojo still laughing, he hit him with a heavy file of newspapers. A fistfight ensued. But without rancor, Gabby and Tonee remained friends. Cardinal Vidal never learned of the incident. Now he never will. It is time to free the story.

‘Cardinal Vidal never learned of the incident. Now he never will. It is time to free the story.’