Breaking the men: The cost of a dream

Before they were recruits or scholarship athletes, Rene Clert Baterbonia and Chukwuemeka Divine Adili were dutiful sons.

Rene, 19, grew up in Talacogon, Agusan del Sur. Divine, 21, crossed an ocean from Nigeria carrying his family’s hopes. Known as “gentle giants,” both believed that talent, discipline, and sacrifice could open doors that poverty kept shut.

Their abilities earned them athletic scholarships at Ateneo de Manila University. They trusted the promise that sports could become a bridge to education and a better life.

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Last week, that promise ended in tragedy.

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During a supposed team-building activity—a “break the men” ritual and “band of brothers” rite of passage—at a beach resort in Aurora, both young men drowned. Two lives ended far too soon. Two families were shattered. Two communities lost sons in whom they had invested their dreams.

Everything else—the statements, outrage, and demands for accountability—begins there.

These deaths demand scrutiny of a sports culture that can prize endurance and performance above safety. The public deserves answers. Who was supervising? What safeguards were in place? How did this happen?

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The tragedy deepened in the days that followed.

Rene’s mother, Rovelyn Baterbonia, gave voice to a grief that resonated across the country. “Bakit ganoon ang nangyari sa anak ko?” she repeatedly asked. It was the cry of a mother trying to understand how the healthy young man she had embraced days earlier at Davao airport returned home in a coffin.

For Divine’s family in Nigeria, the loss carried its own weight. He was more than a student-athlete. He was hope carried across continents. His death extinguished years of sacrifice by a family that entrusted him to an institution promising opportunity and care.

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Ateneo prides itself on the Jesuit principle of cura personalis—care for the whole person. Such values are tested not in moments of success but in moments of crisis. Yet many found the university’s initial response cautious and legalistic when grieving families needed empathy. The controversy was compounded by the now-resigned head coach’s call to “move on” while the dead were still being mourned.

The anger was not simply about what was said. It was about what seemed missing: compassion. That absence points to a larger problem.

Modern collegiate sports increasingly operate within a commercial ecosystem where winning brings visibility, sponsorships, and institutional prestige. Athletes generate value, and success becomes a commodity.

This dynamic is especially troubling when recruitment targets economically vulnerable youth. For many scholarship athletes, sports represent a family’s best chance at upward mobility. The dream itself becomes leverage. Students dependent on scholarships are less likely to question unsafe conditions or excessive demands.

That reality imposes a heightened duty of care. Universities are not professional sports franchises, and student-athletes are not highly paid professionals compensated for risk. Schools stand in loco parentis, assuming responsibility for young people entrusted to their care, including during off-campus activities.

The issue is not whether athletic programs should pursue excellence. They should. The issue is whether achievement has become more valuable than safety.

The tragedy also exposes a gap in Philippine laws. The country lacks a comprehensive framework protecting student-athletes’ rights and welfare. Oversight remains fragmented, accountability uncertain, and systemic failures are too often treated as isolated incidents.

Without stronger protections, the conditions that make such tragedies possible will remain. Poverty will continue supplying the dream; a commodified sports industry will continue consuming it.

To its credit, many within the Ateneo community—faculty, alumni, and students—have demanded transparency, accountability, and a thorough review of safety protocols. They have reminded the institution that fidelity to cura personalis requires more than words.

At the same time, tragedy attracts opportunists. The deaths of Rene and Divine have become fodder for political grandstanding, mercenary interests, and social media spectacle. Such conduct is no less offensive than institutional indifference.

The families deserve facts instead of rumors, accountability instead of performance, and compassion instead of opportunism. The living deserves dignity. The dead deserve truth.

Rene and Divine’s names should force a reckoning with a system that celebrates athletes when they win yet too often forgets them when they become casualties of that pursuit.

Before they became subjects of investigations and public debate, Rene and Divine were sons who left home believing sport could carry them toward a better future.

That promise was broken. The challenge now is to ensure it is never broken the same way again.

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Carlos Isagani T. Zarate, a Mindanao-based public interest lawyer and former member of the House of Representatives representing the Bayan Muna party list, is an alumnus of the Ateneo de Davao Law School. He is now the senior legal advisor of the Klima Center of the Manila Observatory and senior partner of the La Vina Zarate and Associates.