It’s hard to tell which is more painful, losing by a mile or losing by inches. Though there is some small consolation in coming close – especially when the odds are solidly against you – a loss is still a loss. The pain of having been pregnant with hope only to have it stillborn still stings. In a game like basketball where an inch may as well be a mile, it’s hard to move on from coming within breathing distance. But, as the Filipinos have done time and again after every natural disaster and political letdown, the citizenry learned, let go, and decided to believe once again.
Admittedly, there were very few who felt Gilas Pilipinas could have held its own against France, the fifth-best team in the world. But there were glimmers of that glinting bit of hope. France had injuries, and big Nico Batum would not be playing. They would be vulnerable, at least on paper. And even if Gilas could not score an earth-shaking upset, there was still the possibility of overturning the much lower-ranked New Zealand the next day, their haka-howling pre-game ritual notwithstanding. There was still that fallback opportunity. The Kiwis were only seven rungs above the Philippines, after all, not a mile, but perhaps just a long arm’s length. And there was the luxury of thinking about that tomorrow.
The crowd was excited, filling up the Mall of Asia Arena just in time for tip-off, in time to see Canada finish its display of athletic ability versus Turkey. People had been waiting literally the whole day, some from as far away as Davao, Cebu, Bacolod, Baguio, Pampanga, Batangas and Laguna in the mere hoping of scoring a scalped ticket. True, some were there to see France’s Tony Parker, Canada’s boss Steve Nash and other legit NBA veterans, but for the most part, that was just a bonus. They wanted to see what Gilas Pilipinas and Tab Baldwin could do.
Wonder of wonders, the hosts proved inhospitable on the court, scoring 30 points in a fiery start, sparked by a calm Jeff Chan. France realized it grievously erred by looking past the Philippines toward a finals showdown with Canada. Andray Blatche scored 14 points, and the unpredictable Terrence Romeo added six. France’s strength, its guards, did their share. After all, Tony Parker had NBA Finals experience even his contemporaries only dreamed of, and Nando de Colo was an acknowledged leader of this team. They would not go away, not without taking a pound of flesh first. And we would not have to wait long.
The rugged, infuriating de Colo scored nine more points, just four short of the entire Gilas squad in the second period. More importantly, he was manhandling the smaller guards assigned to him. The French found their raison d’ etre, and clamped down on defense. Blatche and Troy Rosario, the most and least experienced, remarkably kept Gilas ahead, with help from the pumped-up Jayson Castro. Then after a 9-0 run, France was in the lead. The tide was shifting. The tense crowd had mixed emotions: thrill that we were hanging tough against one of the best basketball programs on the planet, and fear that the game would soon slip away.
Then France erupted in the third quarter, with Parker using simple changes of pace at high speeds to elude defenders, and de Colo using not so subtle moves to carve openings and score. Points in the paint were harder to come by. Offensive boards likewise became scarce. France built a comfortable lead, large by international standards, and tougher to chase down in a shorter amateur game. France led by 11 at the end of three quarters. Gilas gallantly cut it down to two, but that might as well have been Mount Everest with the landslide at the other end of the floor. De Colo and Parker would finish with 28 points, and France stretched its lead again. It hurt to have come so close, to have shaken the poise of a powerhouse European team, however briefly. But in the end, it was what it was: another painful lesson.
After the game, Baldwin said that the loss stung, but they knew what the task was, and he was proud that they were competitive against France when no one believed they could be. He was confident that moving on was the easy part. For the general public though, there was still New Zealand, and an open backdoor to the semifinals, against a very impressive Canadian side.
But the next night, the Filipinos were off to a shaky start. New Zealand had done its homework, denying penetrations and outside shots. Isaac Fotu was a picture of intensity, and there seemed to be no dictionary definition for Corey Webster, who was finding all the holes in Gilas’ defense. New Zealand was up by seven, just seven, at halftime, after an unbelievable traveling call on Gabe Norwood who was simply going up for a basket. Was that gap going to be a mile or mere inches? Filipino fans’ hope was being diluted with fear.
Soon it became apparent that stats can be deceiving. On paper, both teams were the same height, but where one team used many guards, the other had more size on the floor. The second half became a rollercoaster of hope, then exasperation; hope then disappointment. Finally, when New Zealand’s lead was 13 with 1:30 left, those of us who understood the game knew. We wanted to believe otherwise, but we knew. We knew we would be just on the south side of victory, again. Close enough to smell it, but not so near as to taste it.
In sum, the other teams were just a little bit taller, just a tad stronger, a hair more cohesive, and that much more experienced. The wondrous Gilas experiment once again proved that we can keep it close against the best the world has to offer, but it is now also an issue of material and teamwork. As the US itself learned in the past decade and a half, there are no shortcuts, and dazzling talent is not enough.
The millions who watched the FIBA OQT are deeply thankful to Andray, Jayson, Terrence, Ray, Jeff, Japeth, June Mar, Ranidel, Gabe, Marc, Troy, Ryan, LA and Calvin for getting us this far. Their experience and contribution are invaluable. Thanks to them and Tab Baldwin, Jong Uichico, Nash Racela, Norman Black and Alex Compton, we are no longer building from scratch, no longer working like we were wiped out by a typhoon. We are starting from somewhere significantly closer to the goal of making it back to the Olympics. And I am sure that Ambrosio Padilla, Jacinto Ciria Cruz and the rest of the Islanders, our intrepid first Olympic basketball team from Berlin 80 years ago, are proudly smiling down from the heavens. The next iteration of Gilas Pilipinas will be just a little bit taller, just a tad stronger, a hair more cohesive and that much more experienced because of this FIBA OQT. And they will get the job done.