Fall from grace

Recent events in the PBA have been mind-boggling, to say the least, particularly the drug charges against one of its most flamboyant players, Jimwell Torion of Batang Red Bull. The traces of shabu supposedly found in his urine sample by the PNP crime laboratory cast a permanent shadow on his career and his life.

Jimwell admits that he was euphoric at their big game against Talk ‘N Text, and he played exceedingly well in front of his fellow Cebuanos. Little did he realize that the friends who rooted for him hung around a crowd that would cause his fall from grace.

"Yung mga friends ko, nanood ng game ko," Jimwell narrates. "Pinuntahan ako ng mga friends ko sa hotel, niyaya akong pumunta sa disco, sumama ako. Di ko alam na may kasama pala siyang ibang kasama niya sa bahay. Dinala ako doon, doon kami nag-gawa, tapos alis din agad, tapos nag-disco."

Didn’t it even remotely cross his mind that he was risking everything he had worked so hard for, everything that the thousands of irretrievable hours of sweat and pain had created?

"Di ko naisip kasi galing kami sa panalo, tuwang-tuwa ako, di ko nakontrol yung sarili ko," he confesses. "Alam ko na makakasira yun sa career ko. Nadala ako sa tuwa."

Because of the findings, Jimwell is now in purgatory, awaiting a chance, however unlikely, to be fully reinstated to the game he loves. But the immeasurably deep pain he feels the most is in trying to explain to his child why he no longer can earn a living and joyfully engage in the game he so loves.

"Unang-una, yung anak ko, kasi nakita niya na di na ako naglalaro, doon lang ako, siyempre, nalulungkot siya," Torion continues. "Pati yung asawa ko, iyak ng iyak nung una niyang nalaman, kasi alam nila na ako lang ang inaasahan nila."

Suspended without pay, Jimwell is waiting for even the opportunity to be a practice player for Red Bull. He needs the money. On top of all that, he feels terrible remorse at throwing away the trust, admiration and respect accorded to him by the masses, who saw in him a fellow, a kindred Juan dela Cruz, an Everyman who could do and dare things they dreamed of for them.

"Sinira ko ang tiwala nila sa akin," he admits, tears lining his eyelids. "Sana, pagbalik ko, suportahan pa rin ako, bigyan niyo pa rin ako ng isang chance pa. Di na mauulit."

But should we really crucify Jimwell Torion, or any player found to have succumbed to temptations, for that matter? One of the greatest players ever to lace up a pair of sneakers doesn’t think so.

Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, the standard-bearer for consistent excellence in professional basketball, has always objected to the superhuman standards professional athletes have been held up to.

"Because a guy can bury a twenty-foot jumper or glide to the hoop like an angel doesn’t make him the one to tell you how to live," Jabbar emphasizes in his autobiography Giant Steps.

"Without ever having volunteered, we are called upon to personify and uphold the country’s honor. This is nonsense. Athletes should be called upon to be equally as moral as every single individual in society, no more and no less. We are more visible, but not more valuable, than doctors, teachers, cab drivers and businessmen. Morality is an individual concern."

Jabbar relates his own experimentation with cocaine, marijuana and alcohol in the adventurous 1960’s. But he always managed to stay away after having tried the high from these substances, especially after almost driving to his and a friend’s death high on cocaine. On one hand, pro basketball players are unfairly and undeservedly held up in a blinding, harsher spotlight than other people. On the other, they are also fed more and greater temptations, and are very often ill-equipped to deal with the sudden fame, political clout, sexual offerings and immense wealth their profession brings.

What is significant in the recent substance abuse cases is that the PBA has tightened up on its anti-drug enforcement. In the past, some teams supposedly got away with having their ballboys pee into a plastic container and label it in the name of their star players. Not anymore.

So what happens to Jimwell Torion, and now, Alex Crisano, the tattooed, non-monogamous giant of the floundering Barangay Ginebra Gin Kings? First, a long, hard look at why they needed to vent their joys and insecurities on chemicals that could do them no good. Second, an attempt to revive their comatos careers. And third, a warning to other players.

Clean up your act, or be prepared to lose it all.

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