RYAN Mendiola had no idea that on the day he went to the airport to pick up a brother returning from work overseas, something short of magical would happen to his life.
Mendiola, 41, is a caddy at the Veterans Golf Club. He has been carrying bags at the golf course roughly nine years. His wife, Adelaida, also caddies at Veterans, and the two became partners after separating from their spouses. They have a son together and a child each from their previous relationships. All three children live with them, and all go to school.
As caddies, their daily survival depends on whether one of them gets lucky and gets a player for the day. As things stand, Veterans Golf Club has at least 300 caddies, but it is rare for 300 players to descend on the golf course all on the same day, which is the only way every caddie can earn. Half of 300 would be great, or even just a hundred would have the caddy shack rejoicing.

Because Mendiola’s brother had asked to be fetched, it was Addie who was tasked with trying her luck at earning something for the day. If luck was on her side, she could go home with 500 pesos at least for the day’s work, a little more if her player was generous.
It was smooth sailing for Ryan and his brother at the airport. It was an easy phone call to the car rental. At this juncture, the story of their lives — his, his wife's, and their children — might have changed forever.
When the rental car arrived, the two hurriedly put the luggage inside, eager to get to Novaliches. They did so shortly after an hour.
They had been in such a hurry at the airport and again when they got home that it was only when they began sorting their luggage to get to the pasalubongs that they noticed something: one of the luggage, a small, carry-on bag often used by athletes, did not belong to them.
Bundles of money
Because the bag was not locked, Ryan opened it easily enough. What he saw made his heart race faster than it ever had. Inside were bundles of money stacked one above the other, each bundle stamped with the name of a well-known bank. It looked like millions!
Ryan said that after his initial shock, he became very nervous. “Hindi ko alam ang gagawin ko,” he said.
They decided to wait. Maybe a call from the car company would come? They had given their name, address, and phone number, the necessary identification required for a rental.
They waited and waited and waited. No call came.
Ryan looked at the contents of the bag again, held up a few bundles, then quickly returned the money inside. He decided not to count it.
He made an estimate though. Each bundle looked like it was 100,000 pesos. That meant the whole stash could easily be worth P1 million, maybe P2 million, maybe more! The thought only made him even more nervous.
Night came, and Ryan twisted and turned in bed. “Hindi ako nakatulog,” he said. He kept glancing at the bag which he had placed beside his bed.
He said he thought of reporting the matter to the police, to the barangay, or to some other authority, but was torn between doing that or keeping the bag until the owner surfaced with an appeal on radio or TV.
Because there was no news in media and no static from the police, Ryan considered the idea that, possibly, the stash was drug money or proceeds from an illegal caper, and that the owner had chosen to abandon it rather than get himself arrested.
Ryan makes contact
Eventually, Ryan found a clue to its ownership. There was something small tucked inside the sides of the bag, and on it was a name, written in foreign characters, which gave him the idea this was more Asian than Western. On it was also a telephone number.
The following morning, Ryan decided not to let the day pass without calling the number. He had become very uneasy about so much cash lying around. He was how also worried about his family’s safety.
Just before lunch, he dialed the number. A male voice answered. It did not belong to a foreigner; it sounded Filipino. In fact, it was. Ryan told him about the bag. Then he asked to speak with the man whose name was in characters he could not read. The voice on the other line said he could not because the man wanted to keep his identity quiet and, moreover, could not speak Filipino or English.
It was the man's turn to ask questions. First he asked if Ryan had opened the bag. Ryan said yes. Did he count the money? Ryan said no. They agreed to see each other at a coffee shop in a mall near Ryan’s place, and a meeting time was arranged.
Ryan admits he feared for his safety. He was meeting a man he did not know, he was carrying so much hard cash, things could easily go bad. So, he decided to meet the man alone. He wanted his family out of it. He calmed himself down by telling himself he was meeting a legitimate representative of the owner.
When he arrived at the café, the man was already there. Ryan thought he looked "disente." The man had someone with him, but this companion stayed inside a small van. He was mestizo but not Caucasian. He briefly opened the window and waved, as if to say Hi. It occurred to Ryan that this must be the owner. Neither man looked to him like “a gangster or a drug dealer.”
After a little polite exchange and a bit of awkward intro, Ryan handed over the bag with the millions inside. The man opened the bag, looked into its contents, then closed it again. He thanked Ryan for his honesty.
To be honest, Ryan would say to friends later, he expected to get a little reward for returning the money. Maybe, a couple of thousands? But, just as they were about to go their separate ways, the man opened the bag again, dug in, and handed Ryan a couple of bundles.
Ryan was stunned. And, of course, overjoyed. He tried hard not to show it, though. Then the man asked Ryan to erase from his cellphone the number Ryan had retrieved from the athlete's bag, plus all traces of their communication.
Ryan complied. He pulled out his cellphone, and, as the man watched, he erased anything related to their transaction one by one. He recalls that the man told him to just look at the episode as a lucky day for him.
Once home, the family celebrated. What they would do with this kind of cash they had never seen before became the focus of their chatter. Not long after, an opportunity showed them the way.
A neighbor, then having problems keeping up with the mortgage on a small property, asked if Ryan would be interested to take over payments, and perhaps eventually own the house.
Since then, Ryan and his family have moved into their new dwellings. It has wide windows, a real sala where their three children can play, and a kitchen where Addie can move around and cook nice meals. Paying the monthly rental, always a big drain in their daily earnings from the golf course, is now a thing of the past.
A happy Ryan told a fellow caddie of his good fortune. Instantly, the whole Veterans Golf Club — a tight community of caddies, groundkeepers, employees, and all sorts of other characters — was buzzing with the unusual tale of Ryan and his wife.
As expected, nearly everyone who bumped into them asked for a share of the reward.
“Sorry po, pero nagamit na po sa ibang bagay na mas importante para sa pamilya namin,” he would answer.
Ryan and Addie still caddy to this day, with the money earned from caddying going to an education fund for their children. They still live frugally and they still do not take anything for granted. They know there will still be everyday expenses and emergencies they must face.
Of course, people keep telling Ryan how stupid he is. They say he should have kept the money and not made the call. To this, Ryan just smiles. He says he’s happy with his decision. He knows his family can have a good night’s sleep, and that is all the reward he wants.
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