Danny Florencio, symbol for all time

In 2014, this writer had the unprecedented opportunity to interview a basketball legend who had never been on camera. In the course of producing our documentary on the history of the PBA, we gathered 92 interviews, many familiar faces, most I had interviewed before. But only one was sitting in front the lens for the first time. 

It was Danny Florencio. The original Skywalker. 

I discovered that his creative, daredevil expression on the basketball court was diametrically opposite to his nature off it. He was shy, unassuming, and avoided publicity. He encouraged the media (mostly my elders in the business) to get their stories from the stat sheets and his coaches. And though he had spent most of his post-basketball life away from the game and in San Francisco, he still spoke with no twang whatsoever, in simple, direct Filipino.

“I grew up in Quiapo, playing near the fire station. The firemen would throw stones at me because I kept playing,” he told me then. “But I didn’t mind them. I just wanted to find ways to play the game differently.”

Perhaps it was symbolic that he wore a Golden State Warriors shirt to the interview. He had been a fan for a long time. Remember, this was before their ascension, after trading away their star player Monta Ellis caused an uproar, before they changed the game by challenging the “statistical anomaly” of three-point shooting. So, yes, fitting for Danny Florencio, who took the opposite path. At 5’8”, he defied his early coaches’ angry demands to simplify his shots, stay outside and shoot from there. What the hell were all those damn mid-air contortions for? But Danny proved them all wrong, and a list of immortalized triumphs will mark his uniqueness for all time.

“I just wanted to be different,” he recalled to me that day in May four years ago. “Whenever I would move the ball from my left hand to my right hand while airborne, the coaches would call me over. ‘Are you trying out for the circus or something?’ they would ask. Even dribbling behind the back was not allowed. I enjoyed doing those things.”

It would be a disservice to hype those incredible moments, but you can look them up and judge for yourself. There was that memorable duel between Florencio of UST and UE’s four horsemen of Jaworski, et al, who would form the core of the MICAA champion Meralco team. He almost had them, until the ref – he claims – called a non-foul which disqualified him as he blocked Jaworski’s shot. There was the triumph over Korea with the Philippine team and he was hoisted on teammates’ shoulders. There were all those scoring sprees with Crispa and Toyota in the PBA, where he wore number 8 for the former and 22 for the latter. (Francis Arnaiz first wore 8 for the Comets.) There were all those unbelievable corkscrew shots against completely befuddled seven-foot imports. There was the Mythical Team citation in 1978, which was erroneously attributed to Jun Papa in the league annual until after our interview. There was that one last glorious 38-point explosion for Galerie Dominique in 1983.

“You have to be fearless. That was how I played,” he confessed. “If you’re afraid of getting hurt, especially when you play against goons, then don’t play basketball.”

Why is there so much outpouring of love for someone who left the game well over 30 years ago? Because Danny Florencio was Samboy Lim, Dondon Ampalayo, Tony Parker and Terrence Romeo before their time. I kid you not. He was the one every poor kid in the slums could dream of becoming: a defiant, imaginative, breath-taking little man who slayed giants and inspired us all. For all time, Danny Florencio is simply a symbol of what we can be when we want to.