The Flash and The Glove

Glenmarc Antonio is The Flash. No, not the “Filipino Flash” Nonito Donaire Jr. The brand manager of Cellprime Distribution Corp., which markets mobile phone accessories licensed by Disney, suits up as the DC Comics superhero dubbed “The Fastest Man Alive”. As a scrawny, featherlight point guard for Pamantasan ng Lungsod ng Maynila (PLM), Glenmarc used his quickness to escape bigger, rougher opponents. Known to his friends as a comic book geek (his mother gave him a “Death of Superman” trade paperback when he graduated from grade school, God bless her), his friends started calling him Flash. That was roughly two decades ago.

“I’ve been into comic books since I was seven,” he explains. “In college, I was so into Flash. On the court, I was fast, but annoying, and I got the nickname. When cosplay became mainstream, I had a costume made on a friend’s dare. Now, I have three, and I’m having a fourth one made for the Justice League movie.”

Today, Glenmarc is known in the Philippine cosplaying world as the Barry Allen version Flash. As a founder of the Justice League cosplay group Justice Ph, he and his like-minded friends dress as superheroes and visit sick children, attend Warner Bros. press screenings, do charity work, and even have their own panel discussion at the gigantic annual Philippine ToyCon. In all probability, Glenmarc has the largest collection of Flash memorabilia in the world. More than that, he is undoubtedly the world’s largest Gary Payton fan, has been since 1994, and can rattle off the 1991 NBA second overall pick’s stats and life story, chapter and verse. But he didn’t start out that way.

“At that time, Gary had already been in the league for two or three years,” Antonio recalls in detail. “His first three years, he had a lot of issues with the referees and all that. My high school classmates were so big into NBA card collecting then. They told me about this guy, who was a pretty decent point guard, played for the Sonics, but was too arrogant, too cocky.”

Glenmarc, a devout fan of Phoenix Suns All-Star Kevin Johnson, didn’t pay much attention. He even wore number 7 in high school in tribute. That was until the 1994-1995 playoffs, when Payton shut down Johnson, and got the nickname that made him famous around the world. Glenmarc had never encountered a point guard he could relate to who was outstanding on both offense and defense. He shifted allegiance. In his rookie year in college, he changed his number to 20, and started collecting Gary Payton cards. He patterned his play after Payton and rose to team captain as PLM competed against city colleges of Pasay, Caloocan, Muntinlupa and Makati (now University of Makati).

“Yeah, Gary talked trash, but he could back it up,” the local speedster cosplayer insists. “Then came the ‘96 Olympics, Dream Team 3. Wow, that was meteoric. From locking down KJ in the playoffs, getting the nickname, and then being in contention in the West to the Olympics. This was my guy.”

Despite the waning demand for NBA player cards, Glenmarc’s impressive collection steadily grew, and now fills four NBA binders, including Payton’s college card, and a rare Kellogg’s cereal card. Luckily, everybody else was into Michael Jordan, Kidd, Penny Hardaway, and other superstar guards of the era, so they would sell him Payton stuff on the cheap. Glenmarc now also owns every single manufactured Payton jersey (home or away), and has Payton cards from the Sonics, Milwaukee Bucks, Boston Celtics, Los Angeles Lakers and Miami Heat. When Payton cried after finally winning a title with Miami, Glenmarc cried along with him. His one remaining dream was to meet the Seattle Sonics guard in person, and hopefully get some of his swag signed. In August of 2010, it almost didn’t happen.

In August of that year, a friend got Glenmarc a ticket to the NBA Asia Challenge. Chris Webber and Glenn Rice were there. And Gary Payton. In the faint hope of meeting his idol in the flesh, Glenmarc wore a Sonics jersey and lugged his binders of cards with him to the game. He still gets goosebumps telling the story. He saw the now pudgy Payton in person, his voice booming throughout Araneta Coliseum as he called out plays. After the game, Glenmarc tried to get close, but was stopped by security. Undaunted, he staked out the parking lot for an hour, still clutching his binders. The players’ bus started to exit, and in the lighted cabin, there was Payton, animatedly talking with his teammates. But he didn’t see Glenmarc.

The following day, a Saturday, Glenmarc and his friends were in Greenhills looking for good deals on superhero collectibles. He overheard a security guard on a walkie-talkie: NBA players were shopping there. Flash sought them out. Payton wasn’t there. Strike two. Pleading with a member of the security retinue, Glenmarc found out the legends were staying at Dusit Hotel. He and his gang sped there as night fell, and waited in the lobby. After four hours and a Mitch Richmond sighting, still no Payton. They gave up and left to have a few beers to console themselves. Glenmarc was wide awake all night. So close, and yet, so far.

“At some point, you feel like fate is going to give you a break,” he recalls.

“At around 4 a.m. I said let’s go back. Maybe they have an early flight. This was a Sunday. It was still dark. We actually catch the team bus pulling out, with Rice and Webber and the cheerleaders inside. I panicked! My luck ran out.”

Running into the lobby, he asked if Payton had already left. One of the sympathetic employees recognized Glenmarc, and admitted that Payton was still there. His friend had a camera, and was snoozing in the lobby as he sat there, unblinking, still in the green Payton Sonics shirt from the day before. After another three hours, he hears Gary’s voice, reverberating through the lobby from the mezzanine, making a call. Glenmarc bounds up the steps, his suddenly awake companion staggering after him. As Payton was about to enter the elevator, Glenmarc called out to him with whatever strength he had left. Payton turned and said “What’s up, man?” Suddenly, the fan was stunned, overcome by excitement, and almost incoherent.

“I was having word vomit, blah, blah, blah,” Glenmarc remembers sheepishly, near tears. “Imagine meeting your hero for the first time, just the two of you, and you have – at most – 30 seconds to talk to him.” Glenmarc quickly condensed all his passion from almost 20 years in moments, and recounted all his efforts to meet the legend.

Touched, Payton asked where Glenmarc lived, and told him to go home and get his souvenirs. Payton would sign them. Antonio sped off in a cab, calling ahead to wake his sister to get his stuff ready. He grabs his gear, even the jersey he had worn to the Friday game, and races back. When Payton came out after breakfast, Glenmarc led him to a table where he had set up his memorabilia. He has this entire miraculous encounter on video.

“Man, you got everything!” Payton exclaimed in delight, seeing his rare Oregon State University Beavers card, one of four he signed. Another was from the 1998 NBA Finals, which had Michael Jordan on the back. The Glove also signed a white Sonics jersey on both sides. Since then, the two have been in touch online, even as Payton made the Naismith Memorial Hall of Fame in 2013. Payton’s wife and family know about this loyal fan in the Philippines, and they acknowledge his posts on social media. The two met again in 2013, and even played Pop-A-Shot against each other.

“I’ve met him. I got his signature. I spoke with him. I played basketball with him. I brought his championship jersey and he signed it. That’s when you understand that, yeah, these are superstars. They earned millions, played all over the world. But he was the opposite of his personality on the court.”

Thus started a lifelong bond between the Glove and his greatest fan, The Flash.