Go west

On the 11th month of the year, the Philippines leapfrogged 11 slots from a #195 ranking in the footballing world to #184. The three consecutive victories were the most we had since the 1950’s when guys like Ed Ocampo and Vic Sison donned the national colors.

Part of the credit goes to the sterling performance of the Fil-foreigners on the team. They add a huge advantage and a different dimension to our game, but for many people, it’s a short-fix solution to the problem. Myself included.

To my close friends, I’ve always decried the preponderance of our culture in the last quarter of the century over things foreign. These Fil-foreigners are everywhere: in showbiz, in modeling, in sports, and in music. I chafe at they way we celebrate that Nicole of the Pussycat Dolls is “Proudly Pinoy Made” as it says in the stickers that are tacked onto CDs. Sure I’m somewhat proud that she’s of our kin, but I’d rather not make too big a deal out of her and instead give the props and support to the local band scene (note that I said “scene” not music industry) that saw them outselling foreign releases for the first time ever.

We proudly champion a Filipino as the all-time top scorer of FC Barcelona. But wasn’t he part Spanish too? Isn’t it more accurate to call him a Spaniard of mixed ancestry more than Filipino? After all, he competed more and worked more for Spain.

Remember how the possibility of recruiting American swimming Olympian Natalie Coughlin into our national team was bandied about because her grandmother is from Bulacan. Sure Natalie would help, but what does that say to our local swimmers: Sorry, girls. These Fil-Ams have better training and exposure so why don’t you stick to the Palarong Pambansa or what we have and the UAAP okay?

The 1987 Philippine Constitution defines a Filipino citizen as one who was born in the country during the time of the adoption of the Constitution; those whose father or mother are Filipino citizens; those who were born to a Filipina mother before January 17, 1973 and elect to have Philippine citizenship upon reaching the age of the majority; and those who are naturalized under the law.

Fine. But why are we so crazy to trump up those who chose to go to foreign shores to find their fame and fortune as opposed to the ones who left behind? James Bradley in his book Flags of our Fathers says that his father, John Henry Bradley, one of the six men to raise the US flag at the top of Mt. Suribachi in Iwo Jima, never considered himself a hero. The true heroes of Iwo Jima, he protested, were those who died on the island. I also think labels that declare OFWs as Filipino heroes are politically slanted and full of crap. Kaya nga umalis kasi feeling walang kinabukasan dito sa Pinas. I believe the heroes of our sporting scene are those who give their due by playing for their schools and their country and those who toil every day to compete in anonymity only to get bumped off because of the lack of funds and backers.

New York Yankee slugger Jason Giambi is of Italian lineage but do we hear the people from Naples or Rome trump him up any more than Francesco Totti or Marco Materazzi? In America, people are careful with distinctions such as “African-Americans” or “Mexican-Americans” because of the potential for malice and racial stereotyping. The US soldiers killed in Iraq whatever their ethnic origin will always be counted as “American KIAs” not anything else.

The roots of all this began with the Northern Consolidated Team of Ron Jacobs that had Chip Engelland, Dennis Still, and Jeff Moore. Controversial naturalized players who lead us to victory in the Jones Cup and elsewhere. But where are they now? The PBA which really kicked this Fil-Am mess into overdrive trumpeted the arrival of these foreigners as a means of elevating the game. When guys like Rob Parker and Sonny Alvardo ran afoul of the law, we promptly proclaimed them as shams. And when some of them brawled their way into the tabloid pages, it was said, lahing Kano kasi. And by the way, quite a few of these Fil-Ams who first came here are no longer in the league. They were drafted because they were Fil-Ams. Were they even scouted?

When Brian Viloria burst upon the boxing scene we were so proud of his Pinoy roots. Now that he’s lost two straight, he’s consigned to the footnote as we choose to focus on Manny. Buti na lang sabi ni Michael Buffer na taga-Waipahu, Hawaii siya at hindi taga-Ilocos, said some wags.

Some of those who competed in the last SEA Games finally came over after being invited like forever. Some finally acquiesced because their careers have stalled and they’re looking elsewhere to revive their careers.

Do we think so low of ourselves that we have to look for foreigners to wear our national colors? Our local sporting scene is so grossly bad that outside basketball, boxing, billiards, and bowling --- the “B” sports --- the others are left to fend for themselves. Then when someone from the other sports wins, they make that courtesy call to politicians who could use the photo op.

Our national sports officials spend more time bickering and politicking than prepping our athletes. Before the recent ASEAN Football Qualifiers, our coaching staff had no idea about the opposition we were facing. Before we won three straight, people said our football scene sucks. When we made the finals, people said that well, we played against teams that were ranked lower than us. Incidentally it’s only Timor Leste that’s ranked lower than us. It’s a no-win situation I tell you.

How do we arrest this? Here is an easier-said-than-done proposal:
Take a long hard look at the agencies that run our sports programs. They’re too politically motivated. Two years ago, I directed a photo shoot for past and present athletes for a traveling photo exhibit in schools throughout the country. I spoke to 40 athletes and all of them told horror stories of the corruption in sports.
Have a comprehensive grassroots program to build athletic champions. Utilize the Fil-foreigners to augment our program, not to populate it at the expense of our locals. And if the Fil-foreigners are serious about competing in the national team, then they should spend quite some time here training with our athletes and coaches.
Re-allocate some of the money that goes to our politicos to the building of centers of excellence.

The message we’re sending is that we think the Fil-foreigners stand a better chance of competing with their training and exposure abroad. Let me make it clear. I am not against Fil-foreigners. I’m happy for their success and what they bring to their respective countries, clubs or organizations. The point I am trying to make is that we put things in their proper perspective.

After the end of the ASEAN Football Qualifiers in Bacolod, one football official scoffed at the ill feelings of those cut in favor of the Fil-foreigners by saying “they (those who were cut) had their chance and that they didn’t win before.” Maybe that’s true. Maybe that’s somewhat incorrect.

Whatever. Isn’t it ironic that they went to the land of opportunity only to find their opportunities were back here in the Philippines?

We go to the Scorecards

Go figure.

18, 276 people in the Thomas & Mack Center. The second biggest in the arena’s history.
Ringside seats cost $500 per ticket for 9 matches (including all the undercards). That’s like $55.50 per match.
130 pounds for each fighter to make during the weigh in.
Morales weighed 139 pounds and Pacquiao 144 after the weigh in.
10 months between all three Pacquiao-Morales meetings.
First bout went 12 rounds. Second bout had 10. And the third match, 3 rounds.
It took eight minutes and fifty-seven seconds to complete the Trilogy. The introductions and signing of the National Anthems was longer by 2 minutes.
94 punches Manny Pacquiao landed on Erik Morales out of 175 attempts. That’s 54% marksman rate for the Champ. 51 of those punches were in the third round. 1 solid punch to Morales’ left jaw sent him down to his knees against the ropes in the second round and a flurry of shots that sent him down twice in the third.
1 knockdown suffered by Morales in 50 matches (not counting his bouts with Pacman) and that was a questionable one at the hands of Marco Antonio Barrera. 5 knockdowns against Pacquiao in three highly memorable matches.
$3 million plus made by Manny Pacquiao that’s $5,586.60 per second.
$2.75 million made by Erik Morales that’s $5,121 per second.
The first two fights attracted over 700,000 HBO PPV subscriptions. At $50 PPV that’s $35 million. So by estimate, the third fight should have grossed at the very least $17, 500,000.
338 cinemas, 24 cable operators, and 80+ closed circuit venues all over the Philippines;
7 cities and 7 mayors in Metro Manila;
1 school (Ateneo De Manila);
1 radio station (Radio Mindanao Network in conjunction with Solar),
and the country’s #1 terrestrial channel and #1 cable channel to broadcast the fight.
After Pacman’s victory last January, there were 6 billboards in EDSA alone that featured Manny. Before the Grand Finale, there was only 1 -- the humongous Nike billboard along Guadalupe. Expect there to be more after this.
And there are 82 million Filipinos all over the world who are ecstatic over the win (43-3-2, 33 KOs for the Pambansang Kamao).

Eight minutes and fifty-seven seconds. That’s all it took to end one legend and for another to grow and live on. Manny Pacquiao’s sensational third round knockout of Erik Morales is for us Filipino fight fans the perfect end for one of boxing’s greatest trilogies.

Mabuhay ka, Manny Pacquiao.

Let’s go celebrate!

A Pair of Football Stories

The Resurrection
They’ve scored an astounding 252 goals in 75 matches. That’s an average of 3.36 goals per game. Not bad at all. Their women’s counterparts on the other hand refuse to be outdone. In 46 matches, they’ve scored 224 goals for an average of 4.8 goals per game.

It’s mind-boggling until you realize that’s what the foreign teams have done to our men’s and women’s national football teams in the last 21 and 15 years respectively.

In that span, our men’s football team has won six games and drew another six while scoring 36 goals of their own. The longest losing streak was 15 matches from 1996-98 but it would have been much longer had they not beaten Guam 2-0 in an Asian Cup Qualifier for they would go on to lose their next nine.

The women’s national team has had it worse: they’ve only one victory to show and one loss. They’ve suffered a pair of drubbings by the People’s Republic of China in the mid-90’s 21-0 and 16-0 and a 15-0 rout by Japan in 2003. It’s a wonder they still troop to the pitch.

Things are said to be going much better however slowly. Just the other day, National Team coach Aris Caslib decried the lack of intel on our foes for the Asean Football Championships (formerly the Tiger Cup) that is being played in our own backyard of Bacolod. The football braintrust can only base their information on Cambodia, Laos, Brunei, and Timor Leste from how they performed during last year’s SEA Games.

We are currently ranked #195 out of # 205 footballing nations. Look who’s after us: Anquilla, Cook Islands, Belize, Djibouti, Sao Tome Principe, Aruba, US Virgin Islands, Montserrat, Guam, and American Samoa.

But you know what they say about when you’re down, the only way to go... is up. “With more and more people playing football nowadays,” says PFF President Johnny Romualdez, “Part of the problem is having experienced coaches to train the players.” The PFF recently helped bring in Andalusian Coaches for a 10-day training clinic for 50 of our national coaches. The inclusion of Fil-foreigners into the national team is part of the plan to effect transfer technology. The grassroots program such as the Kasibulan Youth (of the Davao Football Association) and the Under-14 boys’ and girls’ teams among many others are underway. More and more teams are being sent abroad to learn the intricacies of the game and to be exposed to a higher level of competition. Romualdez is cautioning Filipinos not to expect changes overnight. It will take some more time before we start to see bigger changes. But the national teams have been more competitive as of late. Gone are the days of those demoralizing blowouts. In the last SEA Games, opponents marveled at the National Team’s more competitive nature. For the first time in years, the football stadia in Bacolod and Marikina played to packed crowds. Football officials are hoping that the last SEA Games and the recent FIFA World Cup would continue to fans the flames of interest and growth of football to a fever pitch with the ASEAN Football Championship in Bacolod. “It’s an exciting time for Philippine football,” adds Romuladez. “We’re beginning our march towards respectability.”

Allez, Les Bleus!
England and France may sit as permanent members on the United Nation’s Security Council now but back then, theirs was a brutal relationship that is best known collectively as the Hundred Years’ War. Of course, matters today between the two countries are a far cry from the medieval times. The peace and prosperity of post-World War II has catapulted both countries into the world arena in ways their ancestors never conceived. But the rivalry still exists.

England is widely credited as the “inventor” of the game and the domestic English Premiere League is said to be one of the best leagues in the world today. How ironic is it then that a handful of Frenchmen have been accorded some of the highest honors in the EPL.

Arsene Wenger is the most successful manager in Arsenal’s history. The Strasbourg native has secured for the Gunners the most number of silverware and is the club’s current longest-running manager with over 550 matches to date. He is the only foreign-born manager to win the Double (the League and FA Cup) in EPL history and he accomplished it twice – 1998 and 2002. He led the Gunners to the only undefeated season in EPL history (in 2004). Wenger has been knighted OBE by Queen Elizabeth herself.

Former Liverpool manager Gerard Houllier is another Frenchman knighted OBE. After a vastly successful six-year tenure with the Reds, Houllier is now in the midst of another successful run with Olympique Lyonnais, the defending Ligue 1 champions. With Liverpool, he won six trophies including a rare Treble in one season.

Thierry Henry plays for Arsene Wenger in Arsenal where he has become the club’s all-time leading scorer surpassing the great Ian Wright’s 185-club goals in 2005. After a failed stint with Juventus, Henry transferred to Arsenal where Wenger moved him from the win to the position of striker. To date, it remains one of Wenger’s masterstrokes for aside from Henry’s 200+ goals; he is the only player in EPL history to score 25 goals in five consecutive seasons.

Since we began this column on the Hundred Years’ War maybe its best that we end this with the man known in Old Trafford as “the King.” Eric Cantona helped launch Manchester United into a new era of prosperity during his seven-year hitch with the Red Devils helping them to the first Double ever in English football history while mentoring young studs David Beckham, Gary Neville, Ryan Giggs, and Paul Scholes. Almost decades after he hung up his spikes from the pitch, the crowds at Old Trafford still sing the King’s name.

Elvis Has Left the Building

The King is gone. He isn’t too far removed from this generation who will remember the 90’s with the fondness of tales by the fireside, by the bar, or among sports fora. Michael Jordan who has six rings as opposed to Bill Russell’s 11 has been proclaimed to be the greatest since his Chicago Bulls accomplished 2 trifectas in an age when dynasties are impossible.

Even in the midst of His Airness reign, his throne was constantly beset with pretenders anointed by shoe advertising campaigns and agents who secured bank-busting contracts even before their clients played an NBA minute. Grant Hill, Harold Miner, Jerry Stackhouse, Vince Carter, Tracy McGrady, Kobe Bryant, Lebron James, and Dwyane Wade to name a few have been oft compared with the Great One. Of the eight; two so far have won NBA titles. A few others may very well win one before they call it a career but what’s this with comparisons with the Great One.

When the Bulls won their third straight in 1992-93, Bill Russell was asked in the middle of a golf game what he thought of the Bulls’ accomplishment. Replied the Lord of the Rings, “Not much. Let’s talk when they’ve won eight straight.” Russ will forever be one of the all-time greats and he has earned every right to talk so since his Boston Celtics won 11 titles in 13 seasons. The man has a championship ring for every finger and one toe. How’s that for the ultimate bragging rights?

Russ was great for his time (16 teams and 2 rounds of play-off ball). In an age of free agency, 29 NBA franchises, rap albums, and an uncanny sixth sense for ESPn (pun intended) highlights, eight straight is downright impossible. Of course there are those who say that MJ’s Bulls would have won eight straight had he not gone to chase curve balls (as much as I am a Bulls fan I don’t believe eight straight would have possible) but I’m here not to extol the greatness of MJ. Many have done so before me and in a much more verbose way. I’m writing because I chafe at media’s constant comparisons between MJ and this year’s Next-Jordan Model. SLAM years ago proclaimed Grant Hill to be just like Jordan... only better. Uh huh. Boy, were they red in the face after that. Grant... I love his game, but right now – overall, he’s gone nowhere just like wife Tamia’s singing career (Ouch!). Kobe Bryant’s 11-year career in the NBA is spectacular by any standard, but he gets as much rap for his petulance and his game. Vinsanity? The only thing he has in common is that he’s a former slam dunk cham and an UNC alum.


Chris Ekstrand recently wrote in his Inside the NBA column in Sports Illustrated of Lebron James’ potential to surpass Jordan in terms of accomplishments. Of course that’s definitely possible. Even MJ acknowledged that in his book For the Love of the Game: My Story that someone will one day surpass him (I think he sort of implied Kobe to be the Air Apparent in his book).

Now let me get this straight, I think Lebron is an awesome player and will probably win an NBA title before he abdicates from his throne, but can he simply be Lebron James, Cleveland Cavaliers swingman? People love to compare all the time since it makes for great discussion and debate. But puh-leeze, none of the aforementioned are anywhere close even in their respective careers with the one true king Michael Jordan!

Lebron won his first play-off series a year before MJ? C’mon, Michael brought his team to the play-offs every year of his Bulls career! In only his second play-offs, he already began to carve out his legend with no small thanks to Larry Bird’s “God-disguised-as-Michael-Jordan quote.” Lebron has played in the Olympics and the FIBA worlds already and the first time up, he was benched. In Saitama, Japan, he disappeared when he was needed leaving Carmelo and D-Wade to hold the fort. Jordan has two Gold Medals from Los Angeles and Barcelona and a Gold from the Tournament of the Americas (won in Portland) prior to the 1992 summer Games. Remember how Spanish guard Fernando Martin described his memories of the 1984 Olympics’ Men’s Basketball Finals: “Jordan. He jump, jump, and jump.”

Lebron for the most part last season was pilloried for not wanting to take the last shot. He would pass off to Damon Jones or to Flip Murray. James reasoned that, “Clutch playing means knowing what kind of play to make at he last minute. It could mean a pass that leads to a basket or a stop.” Well, it could also mean you don’t want the responsibility. Heck even Kobe would want the ball in crunchtime during his rookie year. Toni Kukoc wanted the ball in his hands every time out! I remember him missing a last second shot in a play that was called for him – not Nick Van Exel or Eddie Jones or Cedric Ceballos, but Kobe. He missed and was distraught over that, but Chick Hearn went on to say that he’ll be making many of that in years to come. Incidentally Hearn once worked as a fortune teller at # 1111 South Figueroa St. in downtown LA (that’s the address for Staples Center in case you haven’t been there).

So with Lebron... let’s not even bother with the stats coz that’s all he has for now. Let’s talk 10 years from now and maybe I’ll be eating humble pie.

King James... that’s a pretty snazzy campaign that Nike came up with during his rookie year. Chamber of Fear, his sophomore ad campaign (something out of a Quentin Tarantino film) and the latest, Meet the Lebrons are eye-catching and witty. But right now... he’s just another highlight reel – hey, I did like his slam over the Big Fundamental the other day. One play-off win doesn’t mean much. Karl Malone made the Finals twice. Ditto with Jason Kidd, but their stints will also be remembered for their futility.

Whether rightly or wrongly, winning is how these players will eventually be judged. Lebron looks good in his career path right now. He might even win a title or two. Even in Fantasy Leagues, he’s just as ideal for his propensity to rack up good numbers, but right now, there is only one king of the NBA and he already left the building.

Hmm. Did I just compare Michael Jordan to Elvis Presley?

Laying the Smackdown

Were you one of those who stayed up till 10:30pm (while hiding from your disapproving parents) to watch pro wrestling on IBC-13? Were you one of those who borrowed tapes of Wrestlemania, the Royal Rumble, and the Survivor Series and who would watch it till the tape was eaten up by your VCR? Were you one to scrounge the PDPI magazine stalls (before the advent of Book Sale) for Pro Wrestling Illustrated just for any morsel of info about your fave wrestlers?

I was one and to this day, it is an eternal happy thought of the rite of adolescence as much as sports and girls were. Only now I’m an adult and still enjoy it as much as my kids.

Pro wrestlers were my comic book heroes made flesh and blood. They were larger than life, lived large like rock stars, and had all the babes. Not bad for someone in tights and spandex. I loved the Hart Foundation and practiced the sharpshooter on my brother (yeah, I know you’re not supposed to try this at home but still...). I stomped around the house like the Bushwhackers. I grappled the clothesline like the Ultimate Warrior, and posed like the immortal Hulk Hogan. Yep, they sure were fun days (although my parents did wonder if I was a little strange and was the result of my overactive imagination).

My dad... taught me sports but decried my love for pro wrestling. Too fake. Too overly dramatic. Too much acting he said. At least they’re better actors than those who appeared in adult films, I replied in defense. No doubt my rebuttal raised his eyebrow that nearly reached his hairline (in a harbinger of the Rock’s People’s Eyebrow that was to come more than a decade later).

What makes pro wrestling interesting and fun to watch isn’t just the ring skills but the storylines that went along with them. Were you one of those who couldn’t wait for the impending implosion of the volatile tag team of Randy “the Macho Man” Savage and Hulk Hogan? Who was (that Victoria Principal look-alike) Ms. Elizabeth going to side with? Like wow. It was just as compelling as the next Tanduay-Ginebra skirmish.

The first ever pro wrestling match that I watched live was Wrestlemania XX at Madison Square Garden. Yup. It cost me as much as that pricey ticket to the Curiosa Tour at Randall’s Island but it was well worth it. In the days preceding Wrestlemania, the Nature Boy Rick Flair, the Undertaker, and Kane made an appearance at Toy’s R Us in Times Square and the line just snaked all the way towards 49th Street. Staring at the Undertaker seemed to be alright as he was almost as tall of those buildings and the neon signs of Broadway. One time I worked half day just to get the autographs and my pix taken with Torrie Wilson and Sable who were on the cover of a premiere men’s magazine (I was with a Latino friend of mine who does adult movies hahaha) only to find my boss in line as well. In fact, when they’d put those World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE) DVDs on sale at the Hudson Mall in Jersey City (10 bucks a pop and that is mondo cheap), I had to contend with those oafs who pushed their way towards the Sale rack as if DVDs were going out of style that I nearly gave one of them a suplex off the cash register (Well, I thought about it ala Bill Watterson’s Calvin and Hobbes fame).

Professional wrestling’s popularity has boomed through the stratosphere and has left no one unturned. The catch phrases of DX, the Rock, and Stone Cold Steve Austin have become a part of the lingo of a new generation. I’d repeat some of them here except that this is... ahem, a business newspaper’s sports section not some frat house party. Long after Hulk Hogan and Andre the Giant (ever see the Prince’s Bride?) seemed to have a monopoly on Hollywood, Kevin Nash (the Punisher), the Rock (countless movies now), Bill Goldberg (Universal Soldier), Triple H (Blade Trinity), and now John Cena (the upcoming movie titled the Marine) have invaded the big screen.

After last Saturday’s Smackdown at the Araneta Coliseum (the crowd during the Raw Tour was infinitely better), I was buying food for my kids at KFC in Shopwise when I inadvertently read the text of the lady in front of me --- Panalo si Batista. DQ kasi pumasok si Finlay at (William) Regal. Wow. Last time I checked, people texted the final scores of games; box scores even. Hey, it’s San Beda vs. UE for the National Championship, you know?

The merchandise and tickets I purchased from that night set me back several thousand quid, but to see my kids enjoy themselves for a couple of hours was worth it. The night before there were trucks and trucks of soldiers in full battle gear along EDSA and near the road leading down to Monte Vista where I live had a checkpoint (during the RAW Tour last time around, the metropolis was on coup alert). Whether this had any connection with the political stand-off in Makati I have no idea but the fact that the Smackdown Tour got my mind off the never-ending political foibles of this country was also worth it.

On our way to the car, we came across a man with s un-burned face who looked well into his forties and was noisily talking on his mobile phone:
Man: Uuwi ako ng Bacolod sa Monday. (pause) Sayang nga. Wala si Rey Mysterio. At panalo si Batista.

He must have been one of those who stayed up late at night to watch wrestling on IBC-13 while hiding from his parents.

CCL: They Might Be Giants

For the longest time, US college basketball was way more popular than the NBA. It took the entrance of the star forward from the Indiana State Sycamores and the Michigan State Spartans in the 1979-80 season to revive interest in the pro game. The NBA has since grown from the drug-addled stupor of the 70’s to a prefab global brand but US college hoops remains wildly popular and more so when March Madness (the 64-team NCAA tourney) begins. In fact, the madness in the NCAA’s virtual win-or-go-home format isn’t mere hype… it’s a way of life.

Domestically, in the mind of Johnny Q. Public, the soupcon of alphabet college leagues is dominated by the UAAP and the local version of the NCAA as the very best in the land. Never mind that in the south there are just as many talented or even better teams plying their trade in near anonymity.

All that is about to change.

The Collegiate Champions League (CCL) is on its fourth straight year (and first with the new format). It pits the best teams of the UAAP, NCAA, NCRAA, NAASCU, UCAA, CSAFI, NOPSCEA, and DCAA in a Sweet Sixteen affair to declare the one true national champion. For the first time in years, it’s the actual Team A (or the school’s best line-ups) that are fielded in the competition. It’s also the first year that wild card berths were awarded. And it’s the first time the media was brought in to the mix by seeding the teams by voting.

The crowds have turned out and the games have been tremendously exciting yet there is still the perception that it’s just the CCL. As Solar Sports’ VP for Sports Marketing Jude Turcuato opines that the CCL cannot compete with 60 and 80 years of tradition. What it can do is create the tournament where the one true National Champion is declared. The plan to change people’s perceptions isn’t going to be accomplished overnight. It’s a three-year plan to make it just as popular as the other leagues if not the most popular.

For the millions of followers of the US NCAA’s, there are two questions that come to mind when the tourney begins: 1) Who will be this year’s National Champion and 2) Which highly-fancied teams will be upset by some virtual unknowns? Teams like Valparaiso, Gonzaga, and George Mason don’t have the TV time and media attention of traditional powers like Duke, UConn, or Kentucky to name a few. But they’ve made their own stirring runs in the standings and into American national consciousness. In fact, Gonzaga, previously known in trivia games as all-time NBA great John Stockton’s alma mater, has since the late 90s become a mainstay in the tourney bringing it much national attention and an influx of dollars by tournament fees, royalties, and generous alumni. Its student population has increased and its players (including last year’s NCAA player of the Year Adam Morrison) are no longer unknowns.

This year’s CCL has begun to replicate the excitement of the US NCAA’s. So far, there have been some pretty close matches: University of the East vs. Emilio Aguinaldo College (64-60), San Beda College vs. National University (74-72), and University of Santo Tomas vs. Jose Rizal University (63-65).

As for those looking for Cinderella finishes, there’s the University of Visayas as coached by former pro player al Solis knocking out the Adamson Falcons in Bogs Adornado’s Head Coaching debut 70-67, and the tourney’s giant-killer… JRU.

JRU marched into newly-crowned UAAP champion the UST Growling Tigers’ home floor in España and not only knocked them around black-and-blue but celebrated on the Tigers’ floor after a highly improbable 65-63 win. The Heavy Bombers bombed out of the last NCAA campaign with a 4-10 record and availed of the three wild card berths for the CCL. They haven’t only turned heads but they’ve played terrific defense. JRU held UST to 0-18 field goal shooting the 4th quarter of their match (UST’s only points were two freebies from the lane by Dylan Ababou) while coming back from a double-digit deficit to win.

Last Saturday, October 14, the Heavy Bombers struck again by blindsiding NCAA foe Letran 64-58. Letran, proud owners of 16 NCAA titles with a seven-game win skein against the Shaw Boulevard-based squad dating back to 2003 was suckered out of their slick pound-it-inside game and was forced to take 21 three-point attempts (as opposed to JRU’s 15 attempts). Now what makes this point interesting is that the three-pointer is JRU’s primary weapon. JRU’s stingy defense forced the Knights into 34% field goal shooting as Floyd Dedicatoria (who finished 2nd to SBC’s Sam Ekwe in NCAA MVP voting) and JM Wilson took it right into the heart of Letran’s defense to continue the Heavy Bombers’ Cinderella run into this tournament.

That same day, the #8 seed Mapua on the other hand beat the #1 seed Ateneo De Manila 70-66 in the last game of Macky Escalona, JC Intal, and Doug Kramer in Ateneo’s dress blues.

The Final Four cast has been set. It’s San Beda vs. JRU and Mapua vs. UE. Each and every one of them have their own stories heading into the October 19 match-up. And the way this CCL is shaping up, they might be giants of the collegiate basketball scene.

October

I used to have great memories of October. In grade school, there was the Feast of the Guardian Angels and that meant there was a carnival on the school grounds and that we had no classes (more so later in college as we had those badly needed sembreaks). There was the October medal that we wore as a sign of our devotion to Our Lady. October also meant that Halloween was around the corner and we could go trick or treating. Back in our history class, we studied about Red October and the Cuban Missile Crisis (that took place on… you guessed right, this month). It’s also the title of U2’s second and only lame duck album who’s only contribution to their canon is the rousing “Gloria.” When I lived in America, it also meant that there was Colombus Day (although the only Italian in me was my predilection towards the Sopranos, Joe DiMaggio, pizza at Ray’s in Greenwich Village, and Juventus). While living in Princeton, New Jersey, I would walk around the campus late in the afternoon and watch the crystalline sheen on the buildings and window panes as the fast-fading sunlight bore the hint of another winter chill to come.

But October also meant the end to two sporting events that I have followed for the longest time. There was the UAAP Finals and the World Series. I’m still reeling and somewhat broken over the Blue Eagles’ loss in the just concluded Finals with UST Growling Tigers. I’ve written about it (in www.ateneo.edu) as a means for catharsis for those feeling blue. I’m hardly over the emotional letdown of collegiate basketball when there’s going to be no Fall Classic for me. It’s dour as dour can be as my beloved New York Yankees have been eliminated in the Divisional Series by the Detroit Tigers. Aura and mystique have definitely left the building for the Yankees. Hmm. There must be a conspiracy here as my two favorite teams have been eliminated by Tigers. Is this a sign that I must ditch my Aeropostale for Le Tigre?

October is a time for me to partake in the rituals that my father and my uncles underwent as they were spoiled by players like Ed Ocampo, Felix Flores, and Steve Watson who carved out their deeds on the hardcourt. I had my share too back in my college days when Jun Reyes and Danny Francisco led Ateneo to back-to-back titles in the late 80’s and later on as an alumnus in the stands when Enrico Villanueva and company led the Blue Eagles back to the throne after 14 long years.

October is also my chance now that I’m grown and can afford to make my then-almost weekly pilgrimage to that cathedral in the Bronx called Yankee Stadium. I grew up reading of Pinstripe Pride in the pages of the Sporting News’ almanac. The Bronx Bombers and the Murderer’s Row I was mesmerized when reading those precious and large Life magazines that my grandparents saved for me (I have the original issues that dealt with the assassination of JFK and Apollo 11) where my vision of greatness was #7 Mickey Mantle who swung mightily and majestically even when he struck out.

One of my best Octobers ever was seeing Aaron Boone smack that dinger all the way into the left field of the Stadium to send the Yankees into the World Series (where they eventually lost to the Florida Marlins) in 2003. It was freezing that night but when my friends and I (along with thousands of others) spilled onto 161 Street in a late night street party. We were so pumped up that we nearly walked all the way back to Manhattan (we only got as far as two blocks then we realized that it was utter madness to do so and hopped on the 4 train instead).

People have asked me about my love for baseball which they perceive to be a boring sport. The action they say, is few and far in between. Baseball, they derisively say, induces more yawns than runs in a ballgame that can last anywhere from three hours to the wee hours of the morn. Perhaps aside from basketball and American football, no other sport is more meticulous, scientific, and calculating. Baseball is one of the last bastions of tradition not invaded by the pitfalls of self-expression and thug-a-nomics. And the only other sport just as celebrated in prose and song is basketball.

So the Blue Eagles and the Yankees have been defeated and I’m left to reminisce and wax sentimental about this time of the year that has given me plenty of memories. It’s hard being a sports fan when your team isn’t winning.

For me, these Octobers mean no more sembreaks (as I have been long since out of school) and the trick or treating is now done my kids. I no longer watch the Sopranos and now that I’m back home, Ray’s in Greenwich has been supplanted by Aria in Boracay as my fave in cuccina Italianna. Instead of the magical and somber weather right out of an Ernest Hemingway novel, we’ve got the alternating rain and havoc of typhoon season and the searing humidity of global warming gone bad. The one constant now in this month is the sporting events that have been both heart-stopping and heartbreaking.

Well at least December and Christmas are just around the corner. I could use a little Holiday cheer.

If You Build Them, They Will Come

When it comes to the development of other sports in the country, many point their fingers towards too much emphasis on basketball. Why not football when it might be more suited to the Filipino physique (an erroneous theory if there was ever one)? Why not give emphasis on the other “Bs” like boxing, billiards, bowling, and baseball? Why not tennis after Felix Barrientos and company showed the way all those years ago?

There are too many reasons for us to dissect, but in the space of this column let’s talk about one… the lack of a sporting scene that you could actually feel and see.

Unless you live near a court, a field, or a country club, then you would not know that there’s a thriving sporting scene locally (unless you think of the endless bickering and politicking of local officials as high profile sports). The most obvious one is the Ateneo-La Salle rivalry but that only blooms during the UAAP season. And most recently, if you’d take the MRT coming from the south, you would have noticed the billboard near the corner of EDSA and Ortigas with a note of good luck to the San Beda Red Lions, but other than that nada.

If you plane into JFK and you’re right above Long Island, if you’re by the window, then look out below and you’ll see baseball diamonds, basketball courts, and football fields both of the American pigskin and of the roundball kind. If you take the 99S bus from Port Authority, after you leave Weehawken and go into Hoboken, you’d see a sign that says “Hoboken. The Birthplace of Frank Sinatra and baseball.” Here, once you enter the city limits of somewheresville, it the face of the local trapo who announced his/her latest project (when it is only their job and the taxpayers’ money).

If you were at Hong Kong during the recent World Cup then you will have noticed that the moment your plane touched down at Chek Lak Kop International Airport that World Cup fever has infected Britain’s former crown colony.

If you’ve been to Canada then you’ll immediately know you’re in hockey country.

Here… there’s nothing unless you go to the schools or the barangays. Even then, it’s mostly basketball. Okay, there’s nothing wrong with being a basketball country. Heck, in Canada and Finland, its hockey. In the Latin American countries, next to drugs and rubber, their biggest exports are baseball players. In Oz, its rugby. Not every country on God’s green earth plays the beautiful game. In India, it’s cricket. Let’s face it, we’re a basketball country first and everything else second, third and take a number and get in line. The sooner we accept that it’s a fact, jack -- then the better it is for all. But that doesn’t mean that other sports don’t have the right to be just as big or even bigger. Or that we can dream about performing well even sports that don’t seem natural to a tropical country like ours.

Remember the Jamaican Bobsled team that was turned into a feel-good movie by Disney? Well, that wasn’t just eye Candy for all you feel-good movie folks out there. Sure, Jamaica is reggae, dredds, voodoo, track and field, and bobsledding. But after their initial novel debut yet stirring run in Calgary in 1988, they placed much better than the USA, Russia, France, and Italy the following Winter Olympiad where their two-man team also beat the Swiss. And though they missed the Turin Olympics, they’re still very much a competitive force.

Other countries don’t all have the facilities for other sports but that doesn’t stop them from developing their sports programs. Ever see the beach football scene in Copacabana, Brasil? In Kreuzberg, Germany, you will find football played in cement courts that seem better suited to basketball games. In San Jose, Costa Rica, pitches are vast tracks of open land where sticks and stones are used to mark goal posts.

Our government, our local officials, our NSAs, and our neighborhood communities should all get in the act. I know… one thing at a time. The playing field is what matters. The equipment… that will come. In post-Depression America, many poor people played baseball by using balled-up socks for balls and sticks for bats. It’s not much, but it sure breeds a love for the game. Ditto with football. All-Universe great Pele used to play with the same balled-up socks and whatnot just to play. The other day, while on my way home, I saw some street kids playing football along Katipunan Extension corner Santolan (heading into Libis). Now of course, while I like their interest, maybe they should choose a more appropriate venue.

Sports is more than a physical exercise for people. It’s a great rallying point for national pride. It’s a way out of poverty for many. It’s an entry point into the middle class for some. It’s a great alternative to drugs. And it’s a great way to announce ourselves on the world stage.

With all due respect to all those who affected by typhoon Milenyo, the only good thing that came out of it was it cleared our thoroughfares of advertising eyesores. I’d much rather see a billboard that gives a send-off to our athletes in the upcoming Asian Games or even announcing that the collegiate football season is on nigh than more even generic clothing ads.

We’ve stirred the sports scene some with our countrymen’s exploits in ice hockey, equestrienne sports, mountain climbing, and car racing among others. I think it’s great, but it’s nowhere near enough. To those who could do something about the lack of a lively sporting scene, it’s more than about making noise (not of the showbiz kind that one channel likes to attach to its sporting events). To paraphrase that immortal line from the movie Fields of Dreams, if you build these playing fields, they will come.

We’re waiting.

Solar Sports

In the early hours after December 25, 2005, a fire swept the squatter colony underneath the Katipunan flyover area that bridges Escopa in Quezon City and Monte Vista in Marikina. Hours after firemen put out the blaze, I was over there helping distribute relief goods when a surreal scene floored me. On one side people were crying and salvaging what was left of what little they had in this world. On the other side were people unmindful of the carnage mere meters away and tuned to their televisions. They were watching the Christmas Day NBA game.

Two American expatriates who manage a call center down here in the Philippines attended the Super Bowl XL tail gate party at the Adidas Sportskamp last February. The brothers were also present for the World Cup games at Gweilos in Eastwood in Libis. And most recently they were at the FIBA World Basketball Championships viewing parties at the National Sports Grill in Makati.

One of the Philippine Basketball Association’s greatest point guards ever and is currently an assistant coach for a pro team makes it a point to watch Sports Desk every night before he sleeps. According to him, it’s a great time to catch on up on all the day’s sports action.

Solar Sports, that maverick of a local sports cable channel is now on its 5th year of programming and continues to be a huge part of everyday Pinoy viewing fare. The cable channel giant cut its eye teeth by showing NBA games every single day of the week and by telecasting boxing matches by almost every fighter worth his salt today. It has shown and is showing many a program such as the Ryder Cup, Major League Baseball, and NASCAR among many others that wouldn’t be shown here as easily.

Just as Solar has pissed off people who have thought that it was jumping on the football bandwagon by acquiring the FIFA World Cup and by putting the games on pay per view (if so, then the World Cup and the recently acquired Spanish La Liga must be pretty darn expensive fads). It has even caused some a columnist to take the cable company to task for not airing the 1st World Cup of Pool (when in fact, the company that produced the events had no live feed capability to send it over). For showing old UFC fights (well, Solar admits this but it will soon catch up to the latest editions of the ever-growing mixed martial arts program) In fact, a rival station that is setting up its own sports channel recently gifted the representatives of its teams laptop computers to stay with them rather than jump over to Solar.

It helps that its company is staffed with ex-varsity football, basketball, and baseball players. Frisbee players and budding golfers. Sportscasters and sports nuts. It’s a must that you like sports here, says one of its top honchos, otherwise how will you do a good job. Another quips, it’s certainly a perk that you get to watch sports during working hours and talk about them during yosi breaks.

It’s a sports fan’s dream when you play pick-up hoops with NBA players and shoot pool with our cue internationalists. What’s that? Someone wants to add that it’s a hot-blooded boy’s dream to work with Reema Chanco.

For all the jock talk, its people take immense pride in bringing to local television the best of the world’s sporting events. The recent Southeast Asian Games showed that there is life outside basketball. Although it’s a task and a half to develop sports outside hoops, its people relish the opportunity to be a part of the development and growth of football, mixed martials arts, and boxing.

Today, Monday, September 25, Solar Sports will be launching to its friends in the media, advertising and corporate world the new directions of its sports channels at the ballroom of the New World Marriot Hotel in Greenbelt, Makati. By the first week of October, Solar Sports and Sports Plus will merge to form a super sports channel. A host of new programs like La Liga, Extreme Championship Wrestling, and K1 (mixed martials arts that features practitioners of taekwondo, karate, aikido, and ju-jitsu among others do battle for a title) will be added to the mixed of NFL, grand slam tennis action, boxing, volleyball, billiards, and poker action to name a few. The channel will also be featuring a lot of local productions such as Undisputed (a boxing show hosted by Ronnie Ricketts), Hoop Nation, the channel’s sole remaining basketball link hosted by Alex Compton), and In the Zone (featuring Patricia Hizon, Robbie Puno, and Jude Turcuato). They will also be gearing up for the last of the Manny Pacquiao and Erik Morales fights this coming November and for the Asian Games in Doha, Qatar this December.

Hold on! Back it up. Sole remaining basketball link? Yup. All the basketball content be it the NBA or FIBA will move over to its new sister channel, Basketball TV. It is basketball 24/7 and it also features the Euroleagues, PAC-10 (Pacific 10 featuring UCLA, Arizona, USC etc.), ACC (Atlantic Coast Conference featuring the University of North Carolina, Duke, North Carolina State etc.) and NCAA action. Also making its television debut is the upcoming local Collegiate Champions League featuring the best of the local UAAP, NCAA, and other collegiate leagues from around the country.

When we told Solar Sports indefatigable COO Peter Chanliong that it seems a whole lot, he laughed out loud and said, “That’s just until the end of the year. We’re just getting started.”

For the Heart of a City

To paraphrase Sterling Silliphant’s famous opening line from The Naked City, the police television series that paved the way for many of todays grim and gritty shows, “There are 12 million stories in New York, and this is one of them…”

Fall is fast approaching. It means winter is on the way. But before the east coast denizens pull out their cold weather gear from their shrink wraps, there’s one more thing that needs settling… baseball’s play-offs where both the Yankees and the Mets are in the hunt for a berth in October. It’s the Fall Classic -- the World Series, baby. It could be a Subway Series Redux.

No fight, no match is perhaps more passionate, intense or contentious than a battle for neighborhood turf and bragging rights. New York is home to 11 professional sports teams (including four teams who currently play in New Jersey; though one of them, the Nets will move to Brooklyn in 2009), but the one team that can perhaps lay claim to the title of New York’s team is the Yankees.

And perhaps the most riveting story is the Yankees-Mets rivalry because fans of the Queens-based Mets don’t care about the Boston Red Sox but look more to the Atlanta Braves and ultimately the Yankees as true rivals. Maybe Mayor Bloomberg’s government, the construction of the Reflecting Absence Memorial at Ground Zero, and the never-ending rush hour traffic are the stories that possibly occupy more New Yorkers’ lips and minds. But the inter-league games and if the baseball gods are willing, a second Subway Series between the Yankees and the Mets are in many ways a white hot topic nowadays.

Of the 26 Yankee World Series titles, four were won by slaying the New York Giants (who eventually moved to San Francisco) while another seven were at the expense of their crosstown rivals -- first the Brooklyn Dodgers (who are now in LA) and today, the New York Mets. The lords of Flatbush, the Dodgers, did beat the Bronx Bombers once in 1955 behind Roy Campanella, Jackie Robinson, and Carl Furillo but that was how many generations ago? When the Mets joined the majors in the 60’s, they were for the most part laughable tabloid foils. But titles in 1969 and 1986 and a resurgence in recent years have made this city a two-team town.

Today both teams are locked in a tight race for the best record in baseball. The Mets are slightly ahead with a 90-56 record. The Yankees’ late season resurgence has put them behind at 89-57 (with the Red Sox in town for a four-game series). Even in merchandise, the two teams have been locked in a tight race for hard-earned dollars. For the first time in a decade, the hot selling jersey isn’t that of the Yankees’ Derek Jeter. The distinction belongs to the Mets’ David Wright. David Wright who? The Mets’ slugging third baseman is suddenly the city’s most eligible bachelor and he’s making women’s hearts not only flutter but in Modell’s, help the Mets rake in 60% of all baseball merch sales. I guess nobody wants to buy the Yanks’ mercenary of the year in power-hitting Bobby Abreau’s pinstripes figuring he probably won’t be with the team next year.

A recent poll in the city showed 46% of New Yorkers rooting for the Yankees while 37% pulling for the Mets. That’s not so bad considering only 28% of the city cheered for the team from Flushing, Queens during the 2000 Subway Series. But the signs have been changing. Casual baseball fans have said that they are tired of the Yankees who with their penchant for spending under George Steinbrenner have been successful year in and out. The Mets, they said, haven’t won in awhile and possess that good guy image the people want to root for (never mind that they too have one of the most expensive rosters in baseball). Said one immigrant from the Netherlands, “Even in Europe, all you see are Yankee caps. I want to root for the underdog.”

I used to take the 4 train from Lexington right up to 161st St corner River Avenue. and scream along with the other Yankee die-hards as the train ascended into the fading twilight in the Bronx. I had my pinstripes and New Era baseball cap on and my Italian hotdog and Diet Pepsi that cost me 10 bucks. I loved and soaked in the atmosphere of the stadium as only a kid can. During inter-league games, I’d hop on the 7 and get off at Shea and lose myself in the orange and blue crush. At Burger Heaven on the East 86th, I’d hear no end of the Mets’ dominance in 2004. Friendly ribbing but of the kind that sets you off. But I totally loved it!

In last Monday Night’s World Wrestling Entertainment’s RAW, during the three-man tag team match of John Cena, Carlito, and Jeff Hardy against the dastardly triumvirate of Edge, Randy Orton, and Johnny Nitro, the fans at Madison Square Garden broke out into cheers and chants for the home team. Er, which home team? Half the Gah-den chanted “Let’s go Yankees!” while the other half replied in unison “Let’s go Mets!”

There are 12 million stories in the greatest city in the world. Post 9-11, this is the most riveting.

A UAAP Showdown of a different kind

The UAAP Basketball season is winding down to its exciting finish and conspicuously absent is De La Salle University, a perennial Final Four placer. The school’s varsity teams have been suspended for a year’s play because of alleged infractions incurred by two members of its men’s basketball team, but to date, there has been no official statement or closure about the case.

The whole suspension of the La Salle athletic program from UAAP play stemmed from the discovery of the ineligibility of Tim Gatchalian III and Mark Lester Benitez both who were said to have used spurious PEP Test results to gain admission into DLSU without even passing high school at Jose Rizal University. La Salle offered to do their own internal investigation and voluntarily returned their 2004 basketball trophy as proof of their willingness to fix the problem. DLSU’s investigation pointed to former team manager Manny Salgado and team official Awoo Lacson as the culprits behind the recruiting controversy that drew vehement denials from both men. Benitez and Gatchalian were taken off not only from the team but from DLSU. The UAAP board deemed it not to be enough and suspended the school’s team from competing in the UAAP in Season 69, drawing a surprising combative response from DLSU who hinted at taking the matter to court.

A report was completed by the UAAP board as of April 17, 2006, but the contents of the investigation were never made public. Why the hush hush? Are the contents too explosive to reveal?

A report obtained by this paper reveals how disgraced ex-Green Archer Mark Lester Benitez was asked to strike off the record certain big-ups from the school or its basketball/booster program by someone from the school’s administration. Marcelino Benitez, the father of Mark was also interviewed by the UAAP fact-finding committee to whom he made known his surprise that DLSU’s official transcript of their interviews was missing some of their comments that implicated the basketball program boosters. The report quotes the elder Benitez as saying that, “Parang pinasulat niya (the school official) ako ng kung ano yung mag ilabas ko about kung… hindi na ako magbabanggit about kay (NAMES DELETED HERE) kasi matataas daw yun… mahirap kalabanin.”

The elder Benitez likewise saved text messages (that was presented to the fact-finding committee as evidence) from a team official who feared that “Patay tayo kung umamin si Mark na hindi siya nag second (PEP) test.” Both Benitez and Gatchalian took a first PEP Test which they didn’t pass. Both said in their testimony that they were surprised when they were presented with PEP Test certificates by team officials that qualified them for enrollment at DLSU.

The younger Benitez and the team’s former manager Manny Salgado also testified that that there is a special entrance exam for athletes who enter the university.

The UAAP Fact-Finding Committee requested for a copy of DLSU’s transcript of its investigation. Dr. Carmelita I. Quebengco, DLSU Executive Vice President, personally promised the school’s full cooperation but upon their lawyer’s advice, didn’t furnish the board with the transcript of the proceedings. To date, both the UAAP board and DLSU have not met to discuss the report and its eventual ruling. What gives? Will things just be swept under the rug?

According to a UAAP board member who chose to remain anonymous, La Salle’s unwillingness to meet up could possibly mean that they have accepted the board’s decision to suspend their participation in all UAAP competition for the year. Furthermore, according to the source, the suspension of La Salle’s athletes doesn’t count in their players’ eligibility years. Isn’t it if a basketball player from a UAAP team is suspended for fighting or some other infraction then that automatically disqualified him from MVP voting? So why doesn’t this suspension count in terms of playing years?

After reading the report, there are still many unanswered questions. DLSU received two copies of the report and the transcripts. Now maybe they have done further investigations since some of their top boosters and officials have been named in the report in one way or another. Then again maybe they have not. In fact, we have learned that one of those named in the report is being eyed to replace DLSU’s current representative to the UAAP board. It’s sad that collegiate athletics once deemed the last bastion of pure unadulterated play has suffered from greed, corruption, and exploitation. It was said that a school’s athletes competed for love of the sport and their school. Maybe for some, winning is everything. But at what cost?

In his last statement to the UAAP board, Marcelino Benitez lamented the misfortune that has befallen his family and his son. With his son’s basketball career and life in tatters, the father parted with a lump on his throat, “Kung alam ko lang mangyayari iyon, hindi ko na pinag-aral yung anak ko…”

Cliffhanger of a sentence? Well, so was the UAAP board’s investigation.

You all just have to ask them for the rest of the transcript.

It’s All Greek to Me

About a month before the 2004 Summer Olympics, in one of the most surprising and stirring runs by any team in football, an unfancied Greek team rudely ushered out teams like defending champion France and a high-scoring Czech Republic side en route to an improbable UEFA Euro Finals seat against host Portugal. Prior to this tournament, Greece never won a game in Euro competition and against a strong Portuguese team with Cristiano Ronaldo and Luis Figo, it seemed that despite upsetting the hosts in the first round with a 2-1 win their luck would run out. Not against a resurgent Portugal and in front of a home crowd at the Estadio da Luz in Lisbon that smelled victory. Instead, the Greeks played a suffocating defensive and a physical game that threw the host team out of rhythm. When Angelos Charisteas headed in a corner shot in the 57th minute, it was good enough to give them their first ever football championship on July 4th, 2004.

I was living in New York City at that time and it was day-long celebration. Aside from the nation-wide celebration of America’s 228th birthday, predominantly Greek-American Astoria, Queens exploded with scenes of frenzied partying. Streets and houses were decked with Greek colors. Motorists honked their cars and residents danced in the streets while shouting “Ellas! Ellas!”

It seemed that partying would extend itself for more than another month as Greece hosted the 2004 Summer Olympics. When the International Olympic Committee awarded the centennial summer games to Atlanta in 1996, the Greek nation went into an uproar of protest. If there was any place where the games should have been held, it should have been back to its birthplace. Greece finally got its second opportunity to host the games eight years later, but the pre-games preparations saw Greece roundly criticized being behind schedule in the constructions of facilities, poor security measures, strikes by hotel and construction staff, and the deaths of 14 constructions workers.

The Games thankfully opened on time and without any further hitches. The widely praised and wonderful opening ceremony began one of the most unforgettable games in recent memory. The Greeks used their 2004 UEFA football title and 15th place finish (out of 301 countries) in the Athens Olympics as a springboard into another incredible run.

Almost a year later, Greece beat Germany this time to win the 2005 FIBA Euro Basketball Championship setting off another long and frenzied celebration. That momentous win in Belgrade, the site of the basketball championships was commemorated by the Greek government with a stamp.

Despite their win, the Greek squad of coach Panagiotis Yannakis went into Saitama, Japan not one of the favorites to win FIBA Gold. Maybe that was because they didn’t have any NBA players on their team.

When they won last year’s Euro basketball finals, guard Nikos Zisis tearfully cried, “We still can't understand what we've achieved. Right now, we know that thousands of people are celebrating in Athens. We’ve made an unbelievable journey. Imagine, Greece has been without a basketball medal for 16 years and now this…”

Zisos can very well reprise what he said today. Only this time, after being lost for the rest of the FIBA tournament after suffering broken bones in the face in the game against Brasil, it was his backcourt mate Theodoros Papaloukas doing the talking heading into the semis match against the USA, “Having Zisos on the bench; we’ll have more motivation to play.”

And with Zisos on the sidelines cheering his teammates on, Greece is still on their way into another magical ride into sporting immortality. They’ve beat Lithuania, Australia, Brasil and the USA; all stocked with NBA players. Their dismantling of the USA will go down in history as another historic win for this country of 11 million. But for now, behind their legendary coach, Panagiotis Yannakis (who played on that Greek team that beat a Soviet team led by Sarunas Marcuilionis, Arvydas Sabonis, Alexander Volkov and Rimas Kurtiniatis in overtime 103-101for its first-ever Euro Basketball title in 1987), the number eighth-ranked basketball country in the world is continuing to write its own history whatever the outcome of the 2006 FIBA Championship game against Spain.

And why not, after four incredible sporting runs dating back to the 2004 UEFA Euro Football Finals, these astounding and classic victories are the stuff of modern day Greek legends. And somehow I think it sounds just right.

A Lipa Faith

He looked beaten and tired. What began as a season of hope ended as his beloved Maroons took its eighth beating in 10 games (with two more games left to play) and was eliminated from Final Four contention in Season 69 of the UAAP. With the game less than a minute away from its merciful end, Joe Lipa trudged over to winning Adamson Coach Leo Austria to congratulate him. As he made his way back to the UP side of the court, he had that pained look on his face. He has a three-year plan to bring the title back to Diliman by 2008 but he never envisioned his team being laid so low.

Rewind to December of 1998 when Da Nose was introduced as the Blue Eagles’ new coach during the Grand Alumni Homecoming at the high school covered courts. I felt that it was as if Ateneo had won another championship. Such was my belief (and that of many Ateneans) in the man’s capabilities. Sure he had a very good team that was on the rise (Rico Villanueva, Wesley Gonzales, Ryan Pamintuan, and Rich Alvarez) but Coach was going to elevate the team and lead them out of the doldrums of the 90s. And he led them to three straight Final Four appearances before he fell short of the title in 2001. Today, outside of La Salle and FEU, Ateneo has made the UAAP Final Four every year since.

As a freshman in Ateneo, in 1986, I watched Joe lead his Maroons to their first title in a generation with Benjie Paras, Ronnie Magsanoc, and Eric Altamirano in tow. I also watched his Philips Sardine Makers (behind Jun Reyes and Paras) beat Magnolia (with Dindo Pumaren and Nelson Asaytono) for a PABL title in 1988. Then I saw him follow Ron Jacobs as coach of the national team and later mentor Shell in the PBA.

Wherever he went, his players swore by him (and I’m sure at him as well). Yet there was no denying that he got results. The Blue Eagles’ 3rd UAAP title in 2002 and 18th dating back to their NCAA days was every bit his as was Joel Banal’s.

It wasn’t so much as his success that fascinated me. He was Yogi Berra-like with his malapropisms and witticisms that made his coaching stints every bit as memorable. During one game in that historic 1986 championship run, he called for a high-low play for Paras and Magsanoc that he dubbed as the “Batman and Robin” play. When he was asked by swingman Duane Salvaterra about options should the play go awry, Lipa said without skipping a beat that they could always pass the ball to “Alfred.” The confused UP players wondered who “Alfred” was. Lipa then saw the look on their faces and pointed to “Alfred” or Joey Guanio who would be waiting in the wings on the weak side. The team broke out in laughter. In another timeout this time during a tight and intense Ateneo-UST game, he called for a better effort on the double team on Tigers’ center Alwin Espiritu. He asked who was helping out on defense from the top. Guard Andrew Cruz replied, “Paul (Tanchi) and me.” Lipa said, “Okey, Paul and me, this is what you do.” The team cracked up as coach continued with his instructions. After leaving Ateneo, lo and behold, he became the head of the UAAP’s officiating which is ironic since he’s had one too many tussles with the zebras over the years. Said the ever loquacious coach about the task at hand, “If you can’t beat them, coach them.”

When he went back to UP for his third go-around with his alma mater, I figured that he would turn things around for his squad. While he looks leaner that doesn’t mean he has been no less as fiery and bombastic. His famous “pongalalas” have made their return to the sideline. This season’s results notwithstanding, he has the foundation for a great team with some terrific rookies who should get better with more experience. He has seen what needs to be addressed and will surely make adjustments. That he landed rookies Migs De Asis and Martin Reyes out of De La Salle Zobel is no big surprise; he’s always loved his three-point shooters (Magsanoc, Altamirano, and Guanio with UP and Rainier Sison, Magnum Membrere, and Larry Fonacier with Ateneo, and he’s done wonders for Ren Ren Ritualo over at Fed Ex in the PBA). He’ll eventually land his big fella so they’ll dust off the Batman and Robin play.

His team may be in the cellar, but I don’t imagine they’ll be there for long. If you’re wondering if he’s lost his magic or he’s too old school, let me just say from someone from the other side of Katipunan (from Ateneo) that I’ve heard that said about him once to often to see that he’s always bounced back. His team’s freefall may very well fuel that drive back to the top in the years to come.

All you need is a leap of faith.

Pacman Country

Pacman Country
by rick olivares

Manny Pacquiao owns the Philippines. Okay, he doesn’t but he certainly has the country in the palm of his hand.

If you traverse the length of Epifanio De Los Santos Avenue, Metro Manila’s main thoroughfare, you’d think there’s an election going on. There are no less than six huge billboards of that now famous mustachioed mug eating fried chicken, crooning on a microphone, promoting a famous beer brand, available for downloading on your mobile phone as wallpaper, and being congratulated for dispatching his latest Mexican foil. Outside the sprawling Camp Aguinaldo, the headquarters of the Philippine Army based in Quezon City, the largest city in Metro Manila, there’s a billboard of a Philippine soldier in a snappy salute pose. “Para sa ‘yo ang buhay ko,” (“I will lay down my life for you.”) the slogan reassures of the military’s commitment to the defense of the Filipino and his way of life; a direct lift from Pacquiao’s chart-topping single that was on the airwaves more than the Pussycat Dolls, the current pop sensations of whose beauteous lead singer is of Filipino descent.

In a country that worships its silver screen idols, Manny is the star people from all walks of life pay to watch. This young and skinny kid born to extreme poverty now has the country’s top conglomerates at his beck and call. As of this writing, Manny endorses 10 different products. Industry insiders say that any talk about endorsements begins at a minimum of PhP 10 million pesos or US$200 thousand. San Miguel Corporation, one of Asia’s biggest food and beverage conglomerates reportedly snared Pacquiao for an undisclosed amount of millions (the word is it amounts to PhP 20 million pesos or US$400 thousand -- a whole lot more than was offered the late Fernando Poe, Jr, the King of Philippine Movies). McDonald’s likewise snared the Pacman to another megabucks long-term deal. Said an executive of the fast food giant who refused to be identified, “We choose Manny because he’s an “icon” in the country. He is that Filipino everyman who has defied the odds and won.” In fact, McDonald’s campaign has since come out a winner; sales have jumped up tremendously and have made significant inroads in the shares of industry leader and business rival Jollibee Foods Corporation.

The Philippines’ has always excelled in the international sporting arena. In billiards, perhaps no country has as many successful and popular cue magicians as the Philippines. It has Efren Reyes, Django Bustamante, Amang Parica, and Alex Pagulayan to name but a few. In bowling, it has Paeng Nepomuceno and CJ Suarez. In chess, it has Grandmasters Eugene Torre, Rosendo Balinas, Jr. and the young turk currently making waves, Mark Paragua. In basketball, the Philippines’ most popular sport, the country has embarked on an ambitious campaign to regain lost glory (back when it was a world power from the 1950’s to ‘70’s) with a team powered by Filipinos of mixed nationalities.

As much as basketball is considered as the national pastime, no sport unties the country like boxing. It is the one true sport that literally stops the traffic and leaves its crowded urban jungles a ghost town when one of its boxers has a match. The second Erik Morales-Manny Pacquiao fight dubbed “the Battle II,” was the single biggest moment in the history of Philippine sports. Bigger than all the local basketball rivalries and the Thrilla In Manila back in October of 1975 when Muhammad Ali knocked out Joe Frazier in one of the greatest boxing matches in history. The Battle II broke all local television viewing records with 58.2 rating (that tallied up to 2 million households) for a 77.8 share of the market and a 30.6 rating and 8.4 market share on cable TV. Thirty-two cinemas in malls over the country carried the live feed and played to packed audiences. Business establishments, hotels, bars and restaurants were likewise tuned in to the fight. And when the final bell rang and ringside announcer Michael Buffer announced Pacquiao as the winner, the celebration spilled into the streets in a frenzy unseen before. Hundreds of thousands of people lined the streets for Pacquiao’s victorious homecoming parade. Politicians surrounded him at all times aware of the valuable photo opportunities of standing side-by-side with the People’s Champion. Every form of mass media in the country featured his victory over Morales. Every single morsel of information about Manny whether rumors of an illicit affair, his penchant for karaoke bars, or his reputation as a Mexican Legend Killer (with wins over icons Erik Morales and Marco Antonio Barrera and a superb knockdown of Juan Manuel Marquez that ended in a controversial draw) was news. And the national partying that followed lasted for more than a week.

No Filipino boxer or athlete has bridged international borders the way Pacquiao has (as much as Gabriel “Flash” Elorde was an international champion, he didn’t live in the age of information technology). In fact, if you were to google Pacquiao, you’ll find more than half-a-million entries or results to his name.

Manny Pacquiao is the Philippines’ version Rocky Balboa. Only his is a story more striking and real than anything fictional; a real rags to riches story that has made him the first Filipino to truly be a cross-cultural phenomenon.

The story of this 130-pound man who carries the weight and expectations of 82 million people is best defined in three places: the streets of General Santos City, an overcrowded boat to Manila, and a dingy old gym.

Street Fighter
General Santos City in the southern Philippines has been re-named Manny Pacquiao City. Okay. It hasn’t been re-named and it still is known as General Santos City. Prior to being known around the world as the hometown of Manny Pacquiao, the claim to fame of this beautiful coastal town is being the Tuna Capital of the country and the hometown too of the Bad Boy from Dadiangas – as Gen. Santos was formerly known – Rolando Navarette himself a former world boxing champion.

It was in these city streets where Manny’s firm resolve to rise above his misery took form.

Miserable in fact was an understatement. Manny wasn’t even born yet when the odds were already stacked against him. His mother Dionisia and her two children were left by her first husband for another woman. A few years later, she remarried this time to Rosalio Pacquiao to whom she would have four more children with (of which Manny was the second). They were lucky to eat two meals a day which usually consisted of a native rice meal called “lugaw.” Despite being bright at school there simply wasn’t enough money to see Manny and the rest of the kids to secondary school. Manny almost didn’t march during his graduation from elementary school because they couldn’t afford to buy a graduation uniform. In order to make ends meet, Dionisia and her children had to sell bread, rice cakes, cellophane, peanuts, and doughnuts. Manny, barely into his teens worked too as a waiter to augment their meager earnings.

It was at the age of 13 when Manny discovered boxing. “There wasn’t much to do during our spare time,” recounted Manny. “But the one popular activity in our neighborhood was boxing.” There wasn’t enough money to go around purchasing proper gloves or shoes, so the combatants would wrap towels around their fists and fight barefoot.

“Manny was a natural,” said childhood friend and longtime trainer Buboy Fernandez. “He took to the sport like a duck to water. Even then he had that mean left hand. He would even beat boys who were older than him. I don’t recall him ever losing a fight back then.”

“At first, I wondered why Manny would get up from bed real early,” recounted Dionisia of those early morning jogging sessions. “He became secretive because he knew that I would disapprove.” Dionisia didn’t think her son’s fascination to the sport would amount to anything so she thought that the time was better off spent trying to earn a living.

But it was too late. As much as Dionisia tried to dissuade him from becoming a boxer, the young man who had known hardship all his life knew that his best chance out of the mean streets of nowheresville was through boxing.

Like a Moth to a Flame
Manny Pacquiao took one last look at his beloved General Santos City that was quickly disappearing in the horizon then turned the opposite way. His heart and mind were awash in a sea of tortured emotions.

Not too long ago, his mother found out that his father who was working in a farm in another village now had another family. The whole family was devastated; more so with his mother who was now struck twice by a lightning of the unluckiest kind. Now at 16 years old, Manny felt all the more convinced that if he were to get ahead in the world, his fortunes lay in that glittering city of hopes and dreams for millions of Filipinos… Manila.

For many of the 83 million Filipinos, Manila is like New York. It is where dreams are fulfilled and to paraphrase Frank Sinatra, and if you make it there, you can just about go anywhere else in the world. Not only is it the country’s capital but it is also the hub of business and politics, culture and the arts, and athletics and the sciences. The grandeur and allure of Manila ensures a steady pilgrimage of the hopeful and the hopeless from the provinces.

“I told myself that going to Manila was not only going to help further my boxing career,” explained Pacquiao who bristled at the painful memory of those formative years. While talking about past is generally taboo, Pacquiao keeps it close to his heart for it is what fuels his desire to achieve and succeed. “But it was also going to help me cope better with the pain of my parents’ separation.”

The moment he stepped on board that crowded passenger ship as a stowaway with nary a peso in his pockets he knew that there was no going back. Manny knew that it was the only way if he wanted to make good on his dreams.

“The boat was crowded,” remembered Pacquiao. “But you could see in everyone’s faces that the great adventure was about to begin. It was exciting and at the same time… frightening.”

Million Dollar Baby
Freddie Roach’s Wild Card Boxing Club on the 2nd floor of a two-story building in Vine Street at the corner of Santa Monica Boulevard in Los Angeles is just one of Tinseltown’s many attractions. When one of Roach’s fighters is in session, tourists, well-wishers, and media-types pack the small gym that after a while with all the sweating bodies it’s hard to tell the boxer from the visitor. It is here where Pacquiao now trains under the close supervision of Roach, a one-time featherweight boxer himself. Those who know Manny will say that Pacquiao is like a wild stallion that isn’t easily cowed by anyone; he worships Roach for his intelligence and for molding him into a polished and feared fighter.

In stark contrast, the Lainez-Mondejar (L&M) Gym in Sampaloc, Manila is that stereotypical dive of a boxing gym unlike the new jack clubs where the sport has become a means to workout. The dingy gym located in the heart of Manila’s squalor has that rank smell of leather, sweat, piss, and stuffy air to it that it’s hard to believe that it has nurtured some of the best fighters to come out of the country. It is here where Manny Pacquiao took his first steps in his journey to glory. “I want to become a boxer,” he meekly told the man behind the desk. Rod Nazario who was operating that gym then and would later manage Pacquiao thought that the skinny kid with a provincial accent was a joke. “Does your mother know you’re here? Go home,” said Nazario who can only chuckle at his gruff dismissal and chance first encounter with the lad who would one day be the face and future of Philippine boxing. “But who knew what was to come, eh?”

Although he left the gym, Pacquiao was unwavering in his desire to become a boxer. He found a job as a construction worker for Polding Correa who aside from being a building contractor ran his own stable of young and up-and-coming boxers. Just as it was back home in General Santos City, Pacquiao had to hold two jobs with his other income from selling cigarettes in the streets. The big difference this time around was that he knew he was close to fulfilling his dream. He did make it back to L&M Gym where he trained on his way to a sterling amateur record of 60-4.

In January 22, 1995, Manny returned to the south for his first professional fight. He outpointed Edmund Ignacio in a four-round match for his first win. He would string up nine more wins before falling to Rustico Torrecampo in a fight that he came ill-prepared for. The loss was jarring but it served notice that the chips weren’t going to fall for him all the time – he had to work hard for it.

And he did.

The World on a String
Manny Pacquiao has compiled a sterling 42-3-2 record with 33 knockouts on his way to six world titles. He has come back to silence his critics by destroying some plenty tough Mexican boxing legends. While working in New York City, when my Mexican and Puerto Rican neighbors and officemates would find out my ethnicity, the first thing they’d say was “Manny Pacquiao!” accompanied by a thumbs up gesture. His bell-to-bell all-out action style has captivated audiences everywhere. The stale and plodding heavyweight division has given way to the lightweights where the action has been fast and furious. Nowadays, he’s mentioned as one of the best pound-for-pound fighters in the world.

He’s lived months away from home and family in his quest for world titles and redemption. But for all his success and high living, Manny Pacquiao at 27 years of age still remembers his roots.

He still lives in General Santos although not in a ramshackle home. His palatial estate is like a tourist attraction periodically drawing people from all over whether he’s home or not. He has a foundation that sends poor children to school. He’s been a godsend to friends and family with his generosity. During his birthday, he throws a party where practically all the townsfolk show up. Not only are they in for a free treat but they get to be entertained by Pacquiao himself who’ll strap on a guitar and sing or wail away to a karaoke which is something he enjoys tremendously.

His success has single-handedly lifted the state of Philippine boxing to another level as well as the self-esteem of Filipinos all over the world. More and more Philippine fighters are being introduced in the world stage. Tony Aldeguer’s famed ALA Gym in Cebu recently signed a contract with Oscar De La Hoya’s Golden Boy Productions to showcase the talents of fighters like Rey “Boom Boom” Bautista, Z Gorres, and Jimrex Jaca. All have given props to Manny whose mere presence has caused the spotlight to shine their way.

In a recent interview after outpointing another Mexican in Oscar Larios in a fight that surprisingly went the distance, Pacquiao declared his intention to retire in two years’ time. But before any serious talk of post-career plans, he fights one last time this year against Erik Morales this coming November 18 in what is the final chapter of this epic trilogy. After their first encounter, Morales dismissed any talks of a rematch as he claimed that Pacquiao was nowhere near his caliber. But the fight got underway and the great Mexican was knocked out for the first time in his hall-of-fame career. With all the pre-fight trash talk (Pacquiao says he’ll knock Morales into retirement while Morales claims he’ll force feed his erstwhile conqueror a fistful of leather down his throat). This early, the Philippines (as is Mexico) is girding for the mother of all battles.

His family is set for life. If anything, his last two years in boxing are just to cement his place in history of the sport although his last ring exploits could have a huge bearing on that. New athletic sensations with similar rags-to-riches stories are said to be the Manny Pacquiao of their sport. His face has launched dozens of advertising campaigns. At the peak of his career, his life has been adapted into film and his everyday life is tabloid fodder. There’s even talk of him running for the Vice Mayor of Manila (of which he will surely win in this country starved for heroes and star power).
Even when he retires it seems that great adventure he looked forward to in what seems a lifetime ago is just starting.

After all, he’s got the country in the palm of his hand.

The NFL (No Fun League)

Why do you watch the NFL?
Is it because of those spectacular touchdown catches?
Is it because of the fourth quarter drives that result in Hail Mary passes?
Or is it because of those leggy cheerleaders who supercharge you in ways that Gatorade can never dream of?

For me it’s all that and then some.

I live to see those touchdown celebrations. I live to see the spike. The slam dunk over the crossbar. I live to see a shuffle and when players launch themselves into the end zone with their arms stretched getting ready for that Sportscenter highlight. I live to see the Cincinnati Bengals’ wide receiver Chad Johnson entertain fans with his creative celebrations. I loved it when putted the pigskin using the end zone pylon. I laughed out loud when he tried CPR on the ball. Did you see when he handed out a sackfull of autographed balls after a recept? How about proposing to a cheerleader after a great TD catch? Mondo hilarious, effendi!

I’ve seen Ickey Woods shuffle, Terrell Owens pose like Mr. Universe, Steve Smith perform calisthenics, and Joe Horn call his mom on his cellphone in the end zone after a TD! I’ve seen Deion Sanders high-step, Shannon Sharpe salute the crowd, and Robert Brooks jump into the stands in Green Bay. Yes, that Lambeau Leap. Invented by former safety Leroy Butler – yes, a defensive player who was the recipient of a lateral pass off a fumble recovery that lead to a 25-yard TD run -- it has become a tradition since the Packers’ return to respectability in the 90’s.

Sadly, all that might be a thing of the past now.

The No Fun League of Paul Tagliabue has just taken a huge dip in my coolometer. As part of the No Fun League’s new rules for 2006-06, they passed this moronic statute:
“Individual players are prohibited from using foreign objects or the football while celebrating. They are also prohibited from engaging in any celebrations while on the ground. A celebration shall be deemed excessive or prolonged if a player continues to celebrate after a warning from an official.”
In the name of sportsmanship they say. C’mon. That’s like outlawing the dunk in the NBA. Or taking away the post-goal celebrations in football. Nigeria’s Super Eagles have some of the funniest and most creative goal celebrations the world has ever seen.

It’s these acts that add color to the game. It’s a form of expression of joy with some creativity in it. A little display of emotion never hurt. If it’s construed to be in the vein of trash-talking then they best way to prevent Chad Johnson from making the highlight reel of the game is to have those safeties or LBs tackle him.

Get in with the program, you geriatric buffoons. You were young when Elvis shook the foundations of a staid music scene. Moptops and long-hair was how you responded to change.

To the fogies who run the NFL, if you think that the post-game dances slow down the game, then maybe you should cut down on those lengthy commercial breaks. Maybe you should take a look at the officiating – and this despite instant replay – which still sucks. All those false starts and holding calls slow the game to a crawl.

If the opposing team feels slighted that Chad Johnson has put one over them again they should be more upset that someone blew their man-to-man coverage somewheres. Or maybe their quarterback has the mobility of those party-poopers who just passed that rule so getting picked off for a TD return by a defensive player warrants a jig or some nifty routine.

A 15-yard penalty if someone celebrates? Ok. There’s a verbal warning first but nevertheless that sucks. Way too much, amigos!

Personally, I am a Denver Broncos fan but I enjoy watching the Bengals and now the Cowboys (because TO is now there if only to see what he will do when he gets to the end zone). I’d love to see the players get down with it after a score; not just to get up and walk away.

In the pre-season game between the Washington Redskins and the Cincinnati Bengals the other day, as Chad Johnson was being interviewed about what he has in store for fans this coming season, teammate Kelly Washington scored on a 34-yard TD strike from Doug Johnson. Washington did a dance that Johnson described as “sweet.” So when pressed as to how he intends to deal with the ban on TD celebrations, he simply teased. “It’s a soap opera,” said Johnson now sporting a blond mohawk. “So you gotta join us for the whole year to find out.”

And so will the No Fun League officials led by Paul Tagliabue up in their skyboxes.

The NFL will be shown on Solar Sports this coming September.

All the World Is a Stage: The 2006 FIBA World Basketball Championships

To paraphrase the Bard from Stratford-upon-Avon, “all the world is a stage and we are merely players…”

And so the stage is set for basketball’s biggest event – the FIBA World Basketball Championships in Japan from August 19-September 3, 2006. 24 teams from every continent on the globe will be vying for basketball’s biggest prize. Teams will renew acquaintances or the hardcourt as there will be new rivalries. But perhaps the most perplexing question to this tournament concerns the US Men’s basketball team.

“The days of US dominance in basketball are past,” so declared Argentinean hoops star and San Antonio Spur Manu Ginobili as his Athens Olympic champs prepared for the FIBA World Basketball Champions in Japan slated to start in a week’s time.

It wasn’t too long ago when such a bold statement meant the person had a case of dementia or was in denial such as perhaps like 1992 Angolan Coach Victorino Cunha who said that the Americans played no defense (perhaps he was still in a daze after his team got shellacked 116-48).

Nowadays, you’ll perhaps get a sneer if you suggest that. In the former states that once comprised Yugoslavia, you’ll find arguably the best place for hoops outside continental USA.

The seeds of the evolution of the world game were sown in 1970 in the war room of the Atlanta Hawks. The Hawks were then in the Western Division (as were the Chicago Bulls). Atlanta behind Butch Beard, Walt Bellamy, and Jim Davis finished first in their division but lost the conference finals to the Lakers of Jerry West, Elgin Baylor, and Wilt Chamberlain. Seeking to address their scoring sock as they were rudely swept out of the play-offs by the Lakers, GM Marty Blake drafted the first foreigners ever in the NBA – Italy’s Dino Meneghin and Mexico’s Manuel Raga. Both players never suited up for the Hawks as the team couldn’t pay for the expensive transfer fees required to acquire them (it then cost $35 thousand dollars). It was an intriguing move, but it didn’t register in anyone’s radar screen until Munich.

While the Munich summer games will always be remembered for three things: 1) Nadia Comaneci, 2) the infamy of terrorist activity of Black September which forever changed the games and huge sporting competitions, and 3) the blatant rip-off job done on a US team. If any Russian tells you otherwise then chances are he hasn’t had a drop of vodka yet otherwise his loose tongue will admit to conspiracy theories and that Alexander Belov committed an offensive foul in those fateful final seconds. But the loss and Russia’s subsequent gold medal put things in motion.

Quinn Buckner was in high school when the USSR took that controversial gold medal. He vowed to himself that when he made the Olympic team, he’d take back what was rightfully America’s. And he did just that. In his last year with Indiana University, Buckner led the 32-0 Hoosiers not only to the NCAA title but also to the gold medal (against Canada) in the ’76 Montreal Olympics.

In 1984, Buckner’s IU mentor Robert Montgomery Knight coached arguably the finest amateur basketball team in history to the gold medal game. It wasn’t as sweet as he envisioned since the Russians boycotted the Los Angeles Olympics in return for America sitting out the Moscow Games but a gold medal was still a gold medal. As Michael Jordan and company began to lift Knight for the traditional coach’s victory ride, Knight insisted, “Coach (Hank) Iba first!” Iba was the coach on the star-crossed ’72 team.

The return to glory was short lived for the Russians once more took the gold as US team that was bereft of any zone breaking outside shooting (once Bradley University’s Hersey Hawkins went down with an injury) finished with a bronze. It was an embarrassing finish for the US and with it the call went out for an all-pro team was sounded. Eight months after the Olympic debacle, FIBA voted to allow NBA players a chance to play in the outside their professional league.

It took the Dream Team (which had three players from the ’84 squad in its line-up) to reclaim supremacy and to put those upstart Euros in their place. But that team’s success likewise set the stage for disaster. Following Barcelona, more and more players migrated to America to show that they belonged on basketball’s biggest and grandest stage among these were Croatia’s Toni Kukoc (Chicago Bulls), Drazen Petrovic (Portland Trailblazers), and Dino Radja (Boston Celtics).

It seemed that all it took was to put a USA basketball uniform on NBA players and they’d roll over the opposition. But as it is, exposure and experience playing against and with the best players in the world elevated the game of Europeans and the South Americans. More and more foreigners were making huge strides and an impact in the NBA.

USA Basketball continued to send patch-work squads who didn’t have the time to prepare more so take the opposition seriously. Teams thought that their mere star power and athleticism would be enough to win the day. But against a better prepared rest-of-the-world, it was a recipe for disaster. The came the debacle in Athens and Indianapolis. The cloak of invincibility that the NBA players wore was now stripped clean. Russia since weakened by the break up of the Soviet states wasn’t now their rival. Serbia & Montenegro and Argentina both playing fundamentally sound basketball was whipping the US soundly. And more and more they were remaking NBA rosters and the game itself.

When the 2005-06 season opened, there were 82 international players from 38 countries in an NBA uniform. The rights to another 43 players were likewise held by different teams.

When the 2006 FIBA tournament unfolds this August 19, all eyes will be on the US team. Bannered by its class of 2003 in Lebron James, Carmelo Anthony, and Dwayne Wade, they’re out not only for redemption, but also what US Coach Mike Krzyzewski says would be “changing the way America looks at the basketball.”

Whatever the outcome, it’s great for the game that it isn’t so one-sided anymore. The stage is set for a battle royale between 24 countries and some 300+ plus players. Now it’s really what you can call a world championship.