FROM CHECKMATE TO LIFETIME MATES

The Love Story of Nico and Nove

EVERY wedding, so they say, always starts with a love story. Today, I invite you to listen to the beautiful journey of our newlyweds: my sister, Nove, and my good friend, Nico.

Our story begins with a shy but bright-eyed high school girl. She was a chess prodigy. From a very young age, she displayed an innate talent for the game, mastering her moves even before she began formal training under her father.

One particular day in August, having just turned thirteen, this young girl went to compete in a provincial tournament. It was a team competition where boys and girls played together. At that same tournament, there was another chess prodigy—a fifteen-year-old boy who had built a reputation for demolishing his opponents. He was known across the province for defeating seasoned veterans and established players in local tournaments.

The girl never expected that she would have to face this "boy wizard." Their meeting happened during the penultimate round—a critical match that would ultimately decide the champion. And the boy, for the life of him, never expected that this quiet girl would defeat him. It was the very first time he had ever lost to a female opponent. His teammates and coach were completely stunned.

In the next leg of the tournament, the boy and the girl met again for a rematch. This time, the girl and her team lost. Yet, the boy could not forget the time he was outmaneuvered by a girl younger than him. “This girl has a promising future,” he told himself.

The two prodigies continued to cross paths in school competitions, though they eventually competed in different divisions. While the boy dominated the boys' category, the girl ruled the girls' bracket. They swept through their opponents in provincial and regional meets, constantly serving as teammates representing their province and region at the Palarong Pambansa for two consecutive years.

Eventually, the boy graduated from high school, moved to a college in Manila, and continued his competitive chess career. Meanwhile, the girl maintained her dominance in local tournaments, returning to the Palarong Pambansa during her senior year.

During a tournament in Manila, the two finally crossed paths again. It was during this reunion that the boy introduced the girl to a friend of his—a chess player from another college who was scouting for talent to build up their women's collegiate team. Our young chess wizard highly recommended the girl, and she was introduced to the coach. A scholarship offer was made to the provincial girl, and as they say, the rest is history.

Did love bloom between them right then and there? Of course not—at least, not yet.

But before you think I am veering away from the love story of the hour, let me reveal the truth: that talented young girl was Nove herself, and the boy was Nico. The school was Rizal Technological Colleges (now University), from which they both eventually graduated. Their coach was Mr. Mauro Yasay—the very same mentor who would later invite Nove, and eventually Nico, to join the Church of the Overcomer.

Let me continue. Nove served as a varsity player from her very first year in college. Meanwhile, Nico spent two years at San Sebastian College before transferring to RTU to join Mr. Yasay’s chess team. Back together again, Nove and Nico spent nearly all their time side-by-side during grueling practices and intense tournaments. In 1997, three years after Nove joined the church, Nico was invited to join as well. Their paths were now intertwined not just across a chessboard, but in their faith and church activities.

By 1999, Nico’s heart had seemingly turned into an uncontrollable knight, crisscrossing the board in a desperate bid to checkmate his opponent. He finally gathered the courage to confess his feelings to Nove. He told her he had fallen deeply in love with her and wanted to spend the rest of his life by her side.

Nove was completely shocked. Incredibly conservative, shy, and entirely inexperienced in matters of the heart, she didn’t know how to respond to his affection. Instead, she began to avoid him entirely. The checkmate failed to land.

Like any guy facing a sudden stalemate, Nico made himself scarce, giving Nove her space. A year later, in 2000, Nove graduated with a Bachelor of Science in Computer Engineering. Nico graduated the following year with a degree in BS Management. They parted ways, entering the workforce to establish their respective careers.

However, Nove found herself unfulfilled in her profession. Because the majority of her job opportunities leaned toward accounting, she decided she would rather earn a formal accounting degree and become a certified accountant than work as a clerk with an engineering degree. In chess terms, she may have lost a piece, but she was resetting the board for a winning game.

She packed her things and moved back to our hometown in Ilocos, enrolling in the BS Accountancy program at the University of Northern Philippines. Through sheer determination and perseverance, she survived every academic hardship, ultimately hurdling the CPA Board Exam just last year.

During her time away, Nico worked at Ateneo as a chess coach and moderator. In 2008, before Nove could even finish her accounting degree, Nico sought out her contact number from their mutual friends. He believed that a woman's heart should be so hidden in God that a man must seek Him first just to find her.

He finally obtained a number, but it was currently being used by one of Nove's nieces. Undeterred, Nico sent messages through the niece, persisting until he made the perfect opening move that prompted Nove to answer him directly. This sparked a beautiful renewal of their friendship. To Nico, it was a love rekindled.

They became active in church functions together, completely fooling their friends. No one suspected that Nico was earnestly pursuing her, especially since Nove emphatically referred to Nico as “Kuya”. Because of their closeness, many people simply assumed they were relatives!

So, how and when did Nove finally get checkmated by Nico?

It happened at my sister Mahren’s house in Sta. Mesa, Manila. Nico had gone there to reformat Mahren's computer at Nove’s request. For dinner, he was served paksiw na sili—an Ilocos dish where spicy peppers are cooked as a main vegetable. Knowing that Nico wasn't a fan of spicy food, Mahren playfully teased him: “If you really love Ate Nove, you have to eat all of this sili!”

Recognizing this as his ultimate, high-stakes move, Nico forced a smile, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, muttered a quick prayer, and began eating the peppers. It took him a full four hours, accompanied by a few near-miss episodes of losing his dinner, but he refused to give up. He possessed the ultimate fighting spirit—the willingness to force a move and take a calculated risk, a mindset he perhaps learned from the legendary chess master Bobby Fischer.

Nove was thoroughly impressed. At that exact moment, she knew she had finally found the right man. It was the perfect checkmate to end the game. She accepted his love, and these two former chess prodigies—former teammates, church mates, and lifelong friends—finally became the king and queen of each other's hearts.

They didn't have to endure an awkward adjustment period in their new relationship because they had already been there for years—unofficially acting as more than friends. The rest of their story is unfolding right before our eyes today, as my sister Nove and my good friend Nico consummate their beautiful journey in holy matrimony, witnessed by their loving families and friends.

I once read that chess is a fairy tale of a thousand and one blunders. But for Nove and Nico, it is a fairy tale of pure love and steadfast friendship. Their devotion to one another is sincere and divine, deeply rooted in solid Christian values. A game of chess must eventually come to an end, but true love never does.

As written in 1 Corinthians 13:7-8: “Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends.”

Nico and Nove, thank you for sharing your wonderful love story with us. May God richly bless your marriage!

(Note: I originally read this tribute during the wedding of Nico Alisangco and Nove Valdez on March 24, 2012, at the Church of the Overcomer in Taytay, Rizal. With the couple's kind permission, I have shared it on this blog with a few light edits.)

DUDOY

THIS is the nickname of my second child, whose real name is Neyo Martin Gundran Valdez. In our country, Dudoy is a very common nickname, keeping company with traditional Pinoy names like Boyet, Dodong, Junior, Totoy, or Mac-mac (and those other classic repeating-syllable names). Yet, it remains deeply endearing.

Why the need for a nickname, though? I, for one, don't actually have one. My name, which happens to be the exact same as my son’s first name, was apparently short enough for my father that he never bothered giving me a pet name. He might have been so satisfied with it that the thought of calling me by a darling short name never crossed his mind. But unlike my father, I wanted to find a different, cool nickname for my son—mostly to prevent household confusion since we share a name.

Ironically, the name he carries today—the now-familiar Dudoy—is not what I had originally intended. It wasn’t my choice at all. I had imagined naming him Neymart, Mart, Neyney, Yoyong, or Oyen. Instead, the name "Duday" (yes, a girl’s name, which is where it all started) spilled out of the mouth of N-yel, the nickname I gave my eldest son, Nathaniel. Someone in my wife's extended family had playfully asked my then-two-year-old what he would call the new baby still growing in his mother’s womb.

If you happened to be watching local telenovelas or teleseryes in the late '90s, you might remember that Duday was the name of a clumsy, incredibly loquacious housemaid in a comedy series top-billed by Jolina Magdangal and Marvin Agustin on Channel 2. My in-laws loved watching every episode, and my little boy would catch glimpses of it during his playful post-dinner moods in front of the TV. The name stuck in his toddler brain. When my second child finally arrived and turned out to be a boy, N-yel adjusted the name to the masculine version, "Dudoy" (though someone in the family may have gently coached him).

Because the name came directly from my precocious eldest son, I found it incredibly special and readily acceded to the suggestion. I had a quiet inkling that Dudoy might grow up feeling an even deeper, unique connection to his older brother, knowing he was loved enough to be given a name by him.

Perhaps I was wrong.

Suddenly, as Dudoy approaches his 12th birthday this coming May, he has begun to express a lot of ambivalence about his nickname. While he appreciates the sweet history behind it, he has become deeply shy about sharing it with his classmates and friends. To be fair, he has his reasons.

Some of his playmates love to tease him. It is as if the name isn't common enough for them already, so they stretch it into other variations like Doydoy, Dodong, or Dodo. Some of his friends even call him "Budoy"—a name he absolutely detests because of a popular TV soap opera featuring a mentally challenged boy in the title role. Then, of course, there is the local LPG delivery man in our neighborhood, who also happens to go by Dudoy.

His mom, when she was still with us, preferred to call him "Doods," which always sounded nice, though I personally favored just "Doy." But when the Harry Potter movies started coming out, N-yel and his younger sister, Roseya (our bunso), started calling him "Dudley"—after the piggy, slow-witted, pampered brat of Harry’s Muggle family.

In mainstream media, Dudoy is usually the stereotypical name reserved for Mr. Ordinary, a houseboy, or a street waif in soap operas. To my knowledge, it has never been used for a main protagonist or a title role, except way back in the '70s when the Comedy King Dolphy starred in a movie spoof of the local superhero Darna, where his character was named Dudoy. (Out of curiosity, I once "googled" the name and discovered it also serves as a surname for a South American basketball player and a real estate agent in New York!)

I try to explain to my son that despite these unwelcome associations, he can still use the name to his advantage and grow proud of it. The truth is, you cannot easily shed a nickname once everyone has grown up knowing you by it. He will just have to allow it to take on a life of its own and define how others perceive him, whether he initially likes it or not.

At the very least, his nickname doesn't carry a negative connotation rooted in physical flaws, unlike other cruel neighborhood monikers like Taba or Tabatsoy (for the heavy-set), Nognog (for the dark-skinned), or Palito (for the very thin). Other people carry far more bizarre, risqué, or unflattering nicknames, yet they wear them like a badge of honor. While a nickname can certainly be used as a tool for ridicule, it can also symbolize deep acceptance and adoration.

But before a name or nickname can carry weight, a good reputation must precede it. Every person must strive to be recognized for their achievements, rather than spending their whole life worrying about the specific label they are called.

I can tell Dudoy about countless successful people and celebrities who are self-assured enough to embrace their odd nicknames. Some even flaunt them to earn admiration—or in the case of politicians, votes. One of today's premier Filipino comedians, Michael V., is universally known as "Bitoy," a name that only endears him more to his massive fanbase. Even our former president, Benigno Simeon C. Aquino III, was affectionately called "Noynoy" by almost everyone in the country.

Dudoy should also read about Pelé, the greatest football player of his era. The Brazilian football legend openly admitted that he detested his nickname at first. He even punched a classmate who taunted him with it, earning himself a two-day school suspension because he assumed it was a direct insult. Years later, he discovered that the name actually translates to "miracle" in Hebrew.

While nicknames can occasionally feel boring, pointless, or incredibly annoying to a growing boy, they have undeniable staying power. In fact, some nicknames completely eclipse a person's real identity. George Herman Ruth and Ernesto Guevara are globally famous as "Babe Ruth" and "Che Guevara," respectively.

Furthermore, nicknames aren't just handed out during childhood; I have to warn my son about this. As he grows, people might label him based on a sudden quirk in his character, a unique eccentricity, or a major achievement later in his life. But even if the world attempts to clothe him in a new name, he will always have the power to choose whether to accept it.

Ultimately, allowing a child to pivot away from a childhood nickname isn't a sign of bad parenting—I haven't read a single parenting magazine that suggests otherwise. But I don't have any plans to change it myself. That choice belongs entirely to my son as he grows up. Whatever he decides to go by out there in the world, he will always be my Dudoy.