Is it Honoring? or Scoring?

Distinguishing Sympathy from Clout

In an era where grief can trend and emotions can be measured in views, likes, and shares, one uncomfortable question deserves to be asked: are we truly honoring the departed, or are we simply scoring from their story?

Clout, in its simplest sense, is the pursuit of influence and attention. It is when something sacred, valuable, or deeply personal is transformed into a commodity—something to be displayed, consumed, and, in some cases, monetized. Social media, for all its benefits, has made this temptation easier than ever.

The Baterbonia family continues to endure a pain that no parent, sibling, or loved one should ever have to bear. They lost a son. They lost a brother. They lost Rene Baterbonia—"Bobet" to those who knew him beyond the headlines, beyond the jerseys, and beyond the tributes.

In the days following his passing, countless individuals came forward to express sympathy and support. Some brought flowers, some offered prayers, while others shared stories that reflected the goodness and humility of the young athlete. Such gestures are reminders that compassion still exists, and that communities can come together in moments of unimaginable grief.

Yet amid these acts of kindness, another phenomenon quietly emerges—the race to document, to post, to capitalize, and, at times, to turn mourning into content.

One cannot help but wonder: are we still preserving the dignity of a young man who never asked to be famous? Are we truly reflecting on the values that guided his life, or are we merely packaging his memory into something marketable? Do we seek inspiration from his story, or are we using his story to gain influence, attention, and perhaps even profit?

These questions are not meant to condemn genuine expressions of sympathy. Grief itself is public in many cultures, and remembrance is a fundamental part of healing. But there is a difference between remembering and exploiting, between paying tribute and chasing engagement.

Rene "Bobet" Baterbonia lived a simple life. He was, by all accounts, a young man with dreams, discipline, and humility. He did not seek celebrity status. He did not ask for his tragedy to become a spectacle. And perhaps that is why the greatest tribute we can offer him is not another viral post, another merchandise opportunity, or another attempt to attach ourselves to his name.

Rather, it is to embody the values he represented—kindness, perseverance, simplicity, and love for family and community.

Respect should never become a commodity.

There is nothing wrong with telling Bobet's story. In fact, his life deserves to be remembered. His dreams deserve to be celebrated. His legacy deserves to inspire. But let the story itself be famous—not the people seeking attention from it. Let his name be remembered for the life he lived, not for the opportunities others found in his passing.

For when mourning becomes marketing and sympathy becomes spectacle, we risk losing the very humanity that remembrance seeks to preserve.

And perhaps that is the plea we owe not only to Bobet, but to every life entrusted to our memory: let respect remain a value, not a product; a virtue, not a commodity.

Because some stories are too sacred to be commercialized, and some memories are meant to be carried in the heart—not sold to the highest bidder.