“DAD, can we watch this Ginebra game again in Araneta next week?” my teenage son, Nathaniel, asked me one night.
I was working on my laptop, drafting an article for a local literary magazine. He knew I disliked being disturbed while writing in my room, but hey—this was about basketball. And I love basketball.
Nathaniel is just as crazy about the sport as any boy his age. He loves playing pickup games with the neighborhood kids on an uncovered court in our subdivision, doing his absolute best to emulate his idols, Rajon Rondo and Paul Pierce of the Boston Celtics. He is also an avid follower of Philippine basketball, tracking the Philippine Basketball Association (PBA) and even the collegiate leagues.
His love for the game deepened when his aunt bought him his first real basketball. That same year, I brought him to the PBA rookie draft at Robinsons Place in Ermita, Manila, where he got to meet some of his favorite players in person. He enjoyed the experience so much that the following year, he went to the draft all by himself—I was tied up with a busy work schedule—to watch favorite collegiate playmakers like Calvin Abueva and Chris Tiu get drafted into the professional league.
Just last month, I brought Nathaniel and his younger brother, Dudoy, to the Araneta Coliseum in Cubao, Quezon City, allowing them to experience live PBA games for the first time. They were just as excited to enter the Big Dome as they were when they were little kids going with their mom to watch children's shows. Wild cheers erupted when the opposing teams for the first game, Petron Blaze and Red Bull Barako, took the court. From our seats in the upper box, Nathaniel twisted and turned, trying to identify every player he recognized.
The energy remained electric through the second game, the venue bustling with life. But the crowd grew even more boisterous and the cheers wilder when the crowd-favorite Barangay Ginebra entered the hardwood. The Gin Kings’ trademark run-and-gun play—even without their injured star, Mark Caguioa—against the Meralco Bolts was a thrilling catalyst for the dominant, pro-Ginebra crowd.
At that moment, I was just as thrilled as the boys. It had been a long fifteen years since I last watched a live game at Araneta. That memory dates back to when my favorite team, the San Miguel Beermen, were bested by the Alaska Milkmen—then powered by Jojo Lastimosa and Johnny Abarrientos—in a legendary Game 7 championship matchup. Suddenly, I felt transported back to my younger, wilder self: screaming, clapping, leaning on the edge of my seat, and jumping right alongside my sons and the rest of the Ginebra faithful. By the end of the night, the kids were completely mesmerized by the experience, having witnessed both my favorite team, Petron (formerly San Miguel), and Nathaniel's beloved Ginebra defeat their respective opponents.
Now, Nathaniel was asking if we could watch the Gin Kings play at the Big Dome again for the crucial final games of the semifinals against Talk 'N Text. I readily agreed. However, when I checked a ticketing outlet at the mall, lower box seats for the next game were already sold out.
“Let’s just hope they make it to the finals, then we’ll have plenty of time to secure tickets,” I promised Nathaniel.
I am genuinely happy for my basketball-crazy son. While he still enjoys playing video games on his laptop, basketball—whether he is playing with friends or watching a game on TV—serves as a healthy respite from his studies and other youth activities. It also serves as the perfect cornerstone for our bonding moments. We talk endlessly about our favorite teams from the PBA, NBA, UAAP, and NCAA, dissecting plays and discussing his hardcourt heroes.
Remembering his passion makes me wonder: When did I first get hooked on basketball?
My introduction to the sport happened when I was too young to fully comprehend it. I was about eight or ten years old, at the absolute peak of the legendary Toyota and Crispa rivalry. My father was perpetually glued to our black-and-white television. To my young eyes, it was a blur of grown men in short shorts who seemed mechanically programmed to possess the leather ball at all costs, zipping down the court in fast-paced action that culminated in a basket. I remember choosing Toyota over the fabled Crispa squad simply because Toyota—led by Robert Jaworski alongside Mon Fernandez—won a couple of championships that year. Rooting for a winning team felt incredibly good.
Toyota disbanded a few years later, but that didn't diminish my love for the PBA. It was my older brother, Milton, who unintentionally cemented my status as an avid fan. He used to buy a popular sports magazine, which I eagerly devoured the moment he finished reading it. He filled his bedroom walls with glossy posters and black-and-white newsprint cutouts of his favorite players, plastering them like a collage across every inch of open space. He was a master storyteller when it came to PBA and NBA trivia, and he played the game exceptionally well himself. Learning about the players and their stats made watching the games on TV infinitely more enjoyable for me.
Soon, my brother—a die-hard Ginebra fan—and I became self-made commentators, analyzing the on-court action long after the final buzzer sounded. That was the year the Great Taste Coffeemakers defeated the Crispa Redmanizers twice in a row for the championship. I decided right then that any team capable of beating my old team’s fiercest rival would become my next favorite. It was the height of popularity for Coffeemakers stars Ricardo Brown and Manny Victorino. At the time, I didn't even realize that Ginebra, with Jaworski at the helm, was just beginning to establish its status as the "crowd darling."
When Ricardo Brown later transferred to San Miguel Beer to play alongside my childhood idol, Mon Fernandez, SMB became my absolute favorite team. When Brown retired due to a serious injury, his young teammate—the sweet-shooting guard Allan Caidic—became my new favorite player. Caidic had also been a former teammate of Brown on the disbanded Great Taste roster. I remained a fiercely loyal San Miguel fan, staying true to them even as they rebranded into the Petron Blaze Boosters. Concurrently, because of Caidic's eventual transfer to the La Tondeña franchise, Ginebra secured its spot as my second-favorite team.
Despite my passion, I was strictly an spectator. I never played competitive basketball like my brother because I was too short, and I stopped trying to dribble or shoot entirely after fracturing my collarbone in a vehicular accident during college. The injury left me with a searing pain that flared up every time I tried to jump for a rebound. Before long, my career and my new family took over, leaving me with far less time to follow the sport. Still, I rooted for my favorite teams on television whenever the opportunity arose.
While I once relied on my Kuya Milton to discuss the games, I now have my son as my ultimate watching buddy. Instead of physical sports magazines, Nathaniel has the internet and social media at his fingertips to study the game and follow his idols. Instead of paper posters on his wall, he features his hardcourt heroes as his digital wallpapers.
Nathaniel has practically brought me back to my younger days as an avid basketball fan. Lately, watching Ginebra’s winning run—fueled by their fabled, "never-say-die" attitude—has given me an added thrill, drawing me back into the sport alongside the team's fiercely loyal fan base. Much like their historic championship runs, the current batch of Gin Kings has endured a tumultuous journey to reach the semifinals this conference. They lost their first four games, dropping to seventh place by the end of the elimination round. Yet, true to form, they persevered, pummeling the Rain or Shine Elastopainters in two grueling games to erase a twice-to-beat disadvantage against a formidable opponent.
Like the Gin Kings, I feel as though I am living through a bruising, roller-coaster game—a constant struggle defined by recent family tragedies. I lost my wife two years ago, her older brother a year later, and then experienced the sudden, devastating death of my three-year-old nephew, whom I loved dearly. This grief was compounded by personal setbacks, including failing the bar exam and quitting my regular job.
But like the Gin Kings in the early stages of this tournament, though I am battered and beaten up, I refuse to give up. I know that with persistence and hard work—the exact formula for conquering odds that they master on the court—I can recover.
Watching these games has become a vital diversion for me; a sort of emotional pain reliever to ward off negative thoughts about my future. As I watch these come-from-behind victories—especially those where Ginebra subdues a stronger opponent—I find myself strategizing the best moves for the game of life I am playing right now. I look ahead, wondering what my next "opponents" will be and how I will overcome them. That is what this is truly about, and it is the reason I am still here, rooting for my favorite PBA team and sharing the love of the game with my sons.
Ah, how I love basketball!
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