The last week has been an emotional rollercoaster for millions of Filipino basketball fans. In a span of six days, we felt hope, exasperation, doubt, despair, reluctance to hope again, then finally, joy and relief. The world’s basketball secret is out: the Philippines is for real.
No Hollywood scriptwriter could have dreamed of this ride for Gilas Pilipinas. From 2005, when the Philippines was suspended from international basketball and couldn’t even stage the event in its own hosting of the Southeast Asian Games to today, who would have imagined the turn-around?
“It has been quite a journey for Gilas, starting in Tokyo in August of 2006, through the twists and the turns of the SBP,” recalled Samahang Basketbol ng Pilipinas head Manny Pangilinan in a text message after Gilas Pilipinas lost to Croatia in overtime. “And now, here we are today – one of the best 24 basketball countries in the world. I’m mighty proud of this team and our coaches.”
The sport has always been a galvanizing force in the Philippines. Traffic stops, crime goes down, bars and coffee shops fill, even in the most ungodly hours due to time differences. We disagree on almost everything, even on whether or not we should love this mistress named basketball, who used to favor the taller, more athletic, non-Filipino player. But perhaps she’s looking our way now. The world’s sports media certainly has, we are no longer the big fish in a little pond of ASEAN. We are now the giant slayers from Asia: no seven-footers, no NBA players. Angola was very similar just over a decade ago, when they climbed to eleventh in the world. In 2019, Asia and Oceania will be merged, and our pond will get that much bigger, great times loom ahead.
After the loss to Puerto Rico, people criticized Gilas Pilipinas simply because they felt let down. They questioned Chot Reyes and his choice of players, his choice of system. But they placed those expectations upon themselves and the team. Those of us who know the game said one win was doable, two a long shot. Nobody gave the Philippines a chance. Famous sports websites didn’t even bother to get the team’s line-up, Gilas Pilipinas fought through line-up changes and injuries and long odds. They were always the underdogs, the shortest team in Spain. People felt disappointed and didn’t know how to handle it. Then they made their private embarrassment public. But who could have foreseen a career game from JJ Barea? As someone who knows a little about basketball, I have my disappointment, but no blaming. I have my sadness, but also gratitude. And I have no patience for fair weather fans who jump off the bandwagon more quickly than they jump on it.
What does it mean for Philippine basketball to literally be back in the spotlight? In 1999, Efren Reyes won the first World 9Ball tournament in Cardiff, Wales. It was an acknowledgment of his being the world’s best pool player. Billiards multiplied hundreds of percent in the country, and 15 years down the road, the sport has boomed. The country now hosts several international tournaments each year, and our players have conquered the sport in all its permutations. What Gilas has done is shown a bright spotlight on the sport’s international potential in our country. Aside from Japeth Aguilar and Gabe Norwood, none of our other players played in the NCAA tournament in the US. That will change, as scouts from major colleges and even European club teams will want players with the fighting heart of a Filipino. This will mean more of the next generation of players will benefit from the Gilas Pilipinas breakthrough, as this generation of Azkals hope they have done for their successors. In other words, things have changed in a big way. To paraphrase the late Steve Jobs, we have made a dent in the basketball universe.
All that was necessary was for us to be part of the discussion, not be relegated to the kids’ table at the big basketball boys’ dinner. Our team has surpassed that, and then some. Pilipinas jerseys were among the hottest-selling items in Seville. In a span of six days, the biggest sports news agencies in Europe and the US acknowledge the Filipino fighting heart. But that has been our story from the time our first hero with nothing more than a wooden shield and home-forged sword repelled the first invader who tried to take what was ours, that story continued with American soldiers cowering in foxholes in World War II as lesser-armed Filipinos stood proudly above them with mortar shells raining around them. This is merely an affirmation of something we’ve known all along. And what coach, anywhere, would not want a Marc Pingris, who would run through a brick wall, or a Ranidel de Ocampo, who would challenge anyone whose Adam’s apple he was staring up at? Or a Gabe Norwood, whose highlight reel victims now include legitimate NBA veterans?
I remember interviewing a young Jimmy Alapag in 2002. He had come to Manila on his own, with nothing but a small bag and a dream: to play for the Philippine team. No family, no backer; just his raw desire and courage. His papers didn’t make it in time for the Asian Games that year. Then, in his first exhibition game in the PBA, he fractured his hand. But he never gave up. He is an example for all of us. Thanks, Jimmy.
The world order has changed, my friends. We are Filipinos. Basketball is in our blood. Underdog is our middle name. We fight to the end, and we’re used to long odds. We’re going to be here for a very long time, so get used to it. And guess what? This is just the beginning. I am proud to be a Filipino. Mabuhay, Gilas Pilipinas! At maraming salamat!