Value, Volatility, and Vamos!
Tennis has new heirs. So do the Markets
I didn’t want to write about tennis again. But sometimes, life lobs you a metaphor so clean, you’d be an idiot not to smash it.
Tennis was my first sport. Grade 2. Eight years old, oversized Wilson racket, white socks lined with red stripes, listening to a coach who barked “split-step, Jun-boy!” (wtf) like that was the only thing that mattered. And I loved it—until I didn’t. Because in the Philippines back then, gravity pulled kids strongest--not toward the service line—but to basketball courts found on every village street.
So Tennis was tucked into my mental background, replaced by barkada basketball glory, PBA pipedreams and determined delusions of dunking. Fast forward to my mid-30s. I take off for layup in a La Salle alumni league I had no business joining. Right knee buckles; my pride splinters. Goodbye, basketball playing days. The irony? My boss then, Mike, invites me to Makati Sports Club for a tennis hit. I limp in. I walk out enthralled.
And enthralling Tennis still is, as it always has been. Even as whispers of a post-Golden Age echo across the sport, mourning the twilight of Federer’s grace, Nadal’s grit, and Djokovic’s manic logic and movement. The common concern: It’ll never be the same. Maybe not. But that’s exactly the point. Every era has its inflection. A moment when the old gods bow out—and the new ones crash the stage, with different weapons, speaking different tongues, and writing their own scripts. That moment is now.
Galvanized by Sunday’s Roland Garros final—an epic so visceral even the commentators ran out of adjectives. Five hours. Twenty-nine minutes. The longest French Open final in history. Jannik Sinner, up two sets. Three championship points in hand. Destiny heavily heaving and leaning his way.
But then came Carlitos. He didn’t blink. He didn’t bow. He saved every match point and roared—Vamos!—into the smoke-filled Parisian dusk.
Alcaraz then closed it via a fifth-set tiebreak and rewrote what the word comeback even means. That French Open Final wasn’t a throwback. It was a rupture. Not a tribute to greatness past, but the carving of something new—faster, freer, unfiltered. Sinner and Alcaraz didn’t come to replicate legacy. They came to redefine it, without apology. You could feel it in the crowd. You could feel it in the clay. You could feel it in your chest.
But here’s the question:
What if this changing of the guard isn’t just happening in tennis? What if the same shift is unfolding on trading floors and investor dashboards?
What if passive investing, cheap money, and low-stakes strategies are the Big 3 we’re quietly retiring?
Because in both arenas—sport and market—one thing is certain: The rallies are getting longer. The margins are getting thinner. And the future isn’t playing by the old rules.
PSE’s Own Grand Slam
On paper, Philippine investing has looked stuck in a time capsule. PSEi sluggish with very low liquidity and foreign participation grinding to a near-halt, AUM swelling but chained to fixed income. You bought blue chips, trusted the low rates, and let compounding do the rest. That world? Gone. Today’s market isn’t built for cruise control. The new reality is this: Inflation comes and goes. Volatility is the default. AI, ESG, and Gen Z retail investors are rewriting the rules. It’s no longer about who used to win. It’s about who knows how to pivot.
Just like Tennis’ golden age is fading, the era of passive investing, foreign dominance and easy alpha are stepping aside, at least for now.. A new chapter—ours—is being written. After years of drawdowns and droughts, the PSEi is quietly staging a comeback. But this isn’t about another 10% rally. It’s about a deeper transition. After years of drought, the PSEi is stirring. Not a boom. A signal.
Enter the Capital Market Efficiency Promotion Act—a name only a technocrat could love—did something extraordinary: It slashed the stock transaction tax from 0.6% to 0.1%. Not a tweak. A decapitation. A 50+ basis point, missile-grade incentive to improve a fee structure that’s quietly strangled local liquidity for years.
This isn’t just a win for retail. It’s a signal: you’re invited back in. South Korea pulled a similar move in 2023, cutting their STT from 0.5% to 0.23%. What followed? Midcap rallies. New money. Actual volume. Broader participation. India. Thailand. Same story.
GREAT (Still) says wait, for now…
Is this the bottom? Are we heading for a rally? Will reforms really work? Will foreigners come back? I don’t know. No one does. My old GREAT score—Growth, Risk, Earnings, Adverse Risks, Trends in Liquidity—was stuck at a 3. Now, with lower tax drag and potential liquidity infusions? It’s flirting with a re-rate, if the tax cut does significantly improve market liquidity. It may not yet be time to uncork the champagne. But you might want to remember where you put the glasses.
I say this because the table has been set. One of the biggest knocks on the PSEi is low market liquidity. Assuming our political risks don’t blow up, it’s now the Philippines’ turn to decide whether it’s still a serious market—or just a feeble footnote on a Bloomberg terminal. Local trust AUMs just hit ₱7.87 trillion in 1Q 2025. Policy rates are cooling. And the PSEi? Optimist whispers of a return to 8,000—a number that once felt like a ceiling, now feels like a possibility. Is it fragile? Sure. But for the first time in years, the market is moving for a reason more than just faint optimism. It’s structural. It’s actual incentive.
The Playbook
We’re in a moment where systems matter more than slogans. Where simplicity is an edge. Where showing up grounded, clear-headed, and equipped with a real plan is the power move. Whether you're managing a business, leading a team, or just trying to ensure your money actually works for you and not against you—this is the time to get serious.
I’ve been in the markets for three decades. I’ve navigated four major crises. And lost sleep over more trades than I’d care to admit. And here’s the one thing I’ve learned that sticks: Transitions are the best time to reset how you play the game. Because when everything’s shifting, everyone’s watching. But only a few are acting—with intention. We’re not in the golden age anymore. But maybe—just maybe—we’re in something better: An era that demands presence, process, and purpose. An era that rewards those who adapt—not just react. The old era is truly over. The new one? It’s here, loud and demanding.
Step up—or step aside.