Eric Menk’s memories, Part 2

In his first few years in the PBA with Tanduay, Eric Menk felt that the team expected too much. But they did manage to succeed, falling in between Menk’s perception that they would take a whipping early on and management’s belief that they would win championships in their first year. Truth be told, they did manage to scare the more experienced teams. One thing that did stand out, however, was the budding and grueling rivalry between Menk and Asi Taulava, a carry-over from their battles in the amateurs.

“We just happened to be in the league at the same time,” Menk says matter-of-factly. “I know Asi’s a very competitive person, and he’s always looking for something to get motivated about. So because I was good, and I was the other Fil-American, I think he really got up to play against me. For me, everybody I played against was tough. It wasn’t anything ever personal. I’ve had a lot of respect for Asi’s ability to play. His size has always given me a problem, but I think Asi, for sure, got up to play against me.”

And because Menk had such a strong presence on the court, the media concurred that he deserved a nickname. Frankly, he wasn’t that happy with the moniker given him, initially.

“I remember going into a meeting, and I didn’t know what the meeting was about,” Menk recalls. “It was our management at Tanduay and members of the sports media. And the meeting was all about what moniker they were gonna give me, which made me feel very uncomfortable. I didn’t like it. Because I was a muscular guy, my hair was short, and because of my demeanor, which, I’ve been told is pretty stoic, they wanted a military-type persona to go along with my moniker. And then when somebody said “Major Pain” I laughed and I said that’s kinda cool. And as soon as I said that after saying no for 30 minutes, everybody jumped on it. I couldn’t go back on it. Whether I liked it or not, it stuck. I’ve embraced it now.”

Menk was also in the center of the witchhunt for fake Fil-Ams. His teammate, Sonny Alvarado, for example, was discovered to have no Filipino blood. The Senate kept pressure up to weed out foreigners posing as Filipino-Americans to work in the Philippines as professional basketball players. Twice, Menk had to stop playing for long spells to defend his Filipino lineage.

“It was tough at the time, because I’ve always been a very authentic person, I know who I am, and I’m able to prove that,” he insists. “But there was definitely some shadiness going around and I got thrown into the lump with the bad eggs. It was a very trying time because I was in the headlines a lot. I felt that my name and my family name – which are very important to me – were being slandered. There were a lot of lies and misinterpretations that were being reported. My parents were reading those things.”

Menk knew that there was a due process he had to follow. But it hurt to hear the things that fans and even other players were saying about him, it seemed that a lot of people were talking about him, but very few people were talking to him. Menk was even prevented from playing for a year, and his hopes were constantly being raised almost every week, which proved very frustrating for someone as driven as he is.

Tanduay eventually sold its franchise, and were looking to trade away key pieces of the team, including Menk. Henry Cojuangco was a big fan of Major Pain, and traded for him. But when the trade happened, fans were overjoyed. The Gin Kings had two young firebrand guards in Mark Caguioa and Jayjay Helterbrand and veterans like Jun Limpot and were being coached by Allan Caidic. Cojuangco and Tanduay owner Bong Tan agreed to the trade, thus changing Menk’s career tremendously.

“There was definitely a lot of pressure playing at Ginebra,” Menk concurs. “Your life’s the greatest thing ever when you win, and you’re the worst when you lose, so it’s a rollercoaster. But I tried to use that as a positive. The fans and their support would definitely fire up my teammates. And if we were every losing pretty bad, the crowd could get us back into the game.”

In 2005, Menk was proclaimed the league’s Most Valuable Player, the first in the history of Barangay Ginebra.

“It was just an unbelievable feeling. At the time, I didn’t realize how big it was,” Menk reflects. “You’re just kind of stuck in the moment and trying to win games. The reception that I got was remarkable. To hear the crowd chant “MVP” when you’re at the foul line, to have the big games, to come through for those fans. You’re in Araneta with 20,000-plus fans and most of them are there to see you win,  it’s something very, very special, very unique. Not many players have experienced that.”

Menk also has a close-up view of how the unique talents that Caguioa and Helterbrand were matured as players, from young, reckless, incredibly athletic youngsters, to grown-up leaders of a beloved franchise.

“When I first got there, they were like two immature kids, and I think maybe viewed them as such for a little too long,” Menk admits. “They were great basketball players, but they had a lot of development to do still. When they matured, that’s when we started winning, but it was an honor for me to play with them and see that development every day.”

After 12 years, Menk was traded away from Ginebra. He was still the same, competitive professional, but things were changing. Looking back, he sees the experiences as part of life’s learning curve.

“You get used to playing at Ginebra. You get used to crowds attending your practices. You get used to after practice having to take pictures and autographs, and having the crowd follow you. Going from that to another team where nobody’s watching you practice, you go right to your car. Nobody’s there to watch compared to the Ginebra crowd. But the games are still just as important; you’re still trying to win. It made me appreciate my time at Ginebra more.”

Eric Menk’s career has been full of glorious highs and excruciating lows, of long spells of being sidelines and extended bouts of excellence. With time now on his hands, he is exploring new avenues to focus his fire on, a regular podcast, perhaps some broadcasting work. The future is laying itself out for the man they call Major Pain.