In the middle of the never-ending house-to-house campaigns and nightly miting de avance, the team finally paused—if only for a moment.
It was a day not for door-knocking, not for vote-seeking speeches, but a day for unity. A day of reverence. A gathering that signaled something far greater than any local campaign.
Because today was the Proclamation Rally of the Partido Federal ng Pilipinas, held right at the heart of the province—the Tarlac Gymnasium.
—
As early as morning, it already felt like a festival outside the gym. People from all over the province came, each wearing different colors of campaign shirts. Banners, streamers, and handmade placards filled the air.
Some danced along to campaign jingles, others chanted cheers like it was a friendly competition. One group even carried a giant speaker, proudly declaring,
"That's from us! Concepcion represent!"
You could feel it—this wasn't just another political event. This was a moment of pride, a moment where each supporter showed who they believed in.
—
And the people of Concepcion didn't fall behind.
Despite the distance, despite the heat, Mayor Andy's supporters came in droves.
Some wore red caps, others had shirts printed with his face, and a few even held up handmade cardboard signs with messages like:
"Still with Anjo!"
"Bring Back the Red!"
—
When I stepped inside the gym, I was swallowed by the sea of people.
The line at the entrance barely moved. Some couldn't even get in anymore—they stayed outside, peeking through windows or standing near the speakers just to hear the speeches.
It was packed. It was hot. But no one complained.
Everyone smiled. Everyone was excited.
—
When I turned, I spotted Mayor Andy.
He stood calmly among other mayors from the district, wearing his signature red shirt—a color that had come to symbolize integrity and loyalty.
I quickly took out my phone and snapped a photo.
To me, it wasn't just another picture.
It was proof.
Proof that in this exact moment—he was there.
He was standing tall.
Still fighting.
Still walking among fellow leaders.
I took pictures of our councilors and board members as well—every one of them smiling, standing proud.
And then, I approached Mayor Andy.
—
After the arrival of the special guests—one of whom was Defense Secretary Gilbert "Gibo" Teodoro, accompanied by his wife—he gave a heartfelt message that stirred the whole crowd.
It was a reminder: that in politics, principle, service, and integrity still matter.
He praised leaders who not only knew how to speak—but more importantly, knew how to deliver on their promises.
—
After all the speeches, it was time to call the party's candidates on stage for a group photo.
One by one, they positioned themselves.
From behind the lens, all you could see were politicians—mayors, councilors, and hopefuls standing side by side.
But then...
a voice rose from the side of the stage.
"Call all the supporters."
It was Mayor Andy.
Everyone paused.
Then slowly, supporters started to approach the platform.
Some of them hesitated, unsure if they were really allowed.
But Mayor smiled and waved them forward.
And that's when i saw something different.
Supporters stood on stage—not behind the politicians, not below them—but beside them.
There was a father.
A mother.
A student.
Even a grandmother, holding her fan tightly.
They all smiled at the camera, as if to say:
"We're not just supporters.
We are part of this fight."
And in that moment, I knew that photo wasn't just a souvenir.
It was a promise.
A breaking of the line between "us" and "them."
Because in Mayor Andy's party, every citizen has a place on the stage of change.
—
After the official program ended, the energy didn't fade.
All around the gym, people wanted photos.
Selfies everywhere.
Smiles everywhere.
One woman even cried tears of joy after getting a hug from the mayor.
"This is ours!" someone shouted.
"Andy! Andy!" many others followed.
"Bring Back the Red!" —it echoed like a chant, over and over.
But it was never tiring to hear.
—
As the sun slowly set and the gym's lights began to dim, one light remained in my heart—the light of belief.
That even in the noise of politics, even in the exhaustion of campaigning, there stood a leader with an open heart.
And that in every photo he signs, he secretly makes a vow:
"I will never leave you.
You are part of this journey."
And maybe, that's why every chant of
"Bring Back the Red!"
is no longer just a slogan…
But a prayer.