I remember the first time I tried writing a sports news script in English - my hands were practically shaking over the keyboard. The challenge wasn't just about translating thoughts into another language, but capturing the drama and emotion that makes sports worth watching. Let me tell you, it's like learning to dance while simultaneously trying to explain the dance steps to someone else. But here's what I've learned through trial and error, and we'll use Juami Tiongson's recent journey as our living example throughout this piece.
You know what makes Tiongson's story so perfect for beginners to practice with? It's got all the classic elements of great sports drama - the eight-year wait, the underdog narrative, and that beautiful full-circle moment. When I write about his semifinal appearance after all those years, I don't just state facts. I imagine myself in his shoes - five long years with Terrafirma where the closest he got was that thrilling 2024 Philippine Cup quarterfinal. See how I'm not just telling you what happened? I'm trying to make you feel that anticipation, that almost-there moment when Terrafirma pushed San Miguel to a knockout game. That's the secret sauce right there - making readers experience the story rather than just read it.
Now let's talk about language choices because this is where most beginners stumble. I used to pack my scripts with complicated statistics and technical terms until I realized something crucial - nobody connects with raw data. They connect with human experiences. Take Stephen Holt's transition from being Tiongson's teammate during Terrafirma's "magical run" (see how that phrase creates instant imagery?) to becoming a regular semifinalist with Ginebra. I could write "Holt was traded to Ginebra in July," but doesn't "since he was acquired by Ginebra last July" sound more like storytelling? The difference is subtle but massive in impact.
Here's my personal trick - I always write the first draft as if I'm explaining the game to an excited friend at a sports bar. Short sentences for intensity. "Tiongson is back. After eight years." Longer, flowing sentences when building context about his journey through different teams. This varied rhythm keeps readers engaged without them even noticing why. I'm particularly fond of creating these little emotional bookends - starting with Tiongson's long wait and ending with where he is now. It gives the script a satisfying completeness that readers appreciate even if they can't pinpoint why.
What I absolutely avoid is neutral reporting. Sorry, but objectivity is overrated in sports scripting. You need to pick sides, show preferences, create heroes and underdogs. When I mention that knockout game against San Miguel, I make sure readers understand what an achievement that was for Terrafirma. I might even throw in my personal opinion - something like "that quarterfinal performance was arguably one of the most thrilling games I've covered this season." See? Now it's not just news, it's a perspective.
The beautiful thing about practicing with current stories like Tiongson's is that you're working with material that already has built-in emotional resonance. Your job as a scriptwriter is to amplify that, to find the human connection points, and to present it in language that feels both professional and passionately human. It's taken me years to find this balance, but watching how these athletes' stories unfold - the eight-year waits, the team changes, the personal triumphs - continues to teach me that at its heart, great sports scripting is just great storytelling in cleats.