Late last night, I went to the wake of a neighbors of ours who passed away from a heat stroke yesterday morning. Since it was the start of the Holy Week vacation, there weren't too many of our neighbors around. I went late at night and stayed for a while.
Several of those present were some of my former players in the neighborhood team. Let me explain that. Aside from school being out, summer is an exciting time for the youth -- there's the opportunity to travel, just stay home and do nothing, take up some hobbies of interest, or join up in the basketball leagues that are played all over the archipelago.
I knew the neighborhood kids and occasionally played half-court or full court basketball with them. This was a time when I played a lot of hoops. Almost daily. If not with my neighbors, it was in inter-company leagues or pick up games with former classmates.
I joined a seniors team here in the inter-subdivision league and I was the youngest among them all. I didn't see much playing time but that was all right with me. You see, the seniors division is the roughest and toughest. Fights occasionally broke out and it wasn't for the faint of heart. I mean, should I be knocking down some guy 10 years older than me? That was never my game but that didn't mean that we didn't do what we had to do. So yes, we, I, got into fights then. The rough housing aside, our team won the championship and it was an exciting time for me.
Around the same time, I was asked to coach the juniors team of our subdivision. I inherited a champion team albeit one that had no discipline. What do you expect -- we aren't the pros. I had a team of boozing, swinging, and ill-tempered players and it was my first ever coaching experience. What prompted me to say yes was an act of hubris. What did I know? Nothing. I just loved to watch and play and that didn't qualify me for jack. I did point that out to them and they said it didn't matter.
But it did. Things didn't work out too well. Practice was difficult and discipline was out of the window. I had a tough time with them and my inexperience showed. I bailed out on them a few days before the league opened (this was the same summer league where I played for the seniors team).
I didn't play again after that as work (I was in advertising and you know how that's a 24/7 job) made it impossible. I just confined myself to pick up games with my officemates or against other ad agencies. We'd play in that court in Washington, in Magallanes, Allied Bank, RCBC, wherever. This was me at my junkie-best.
Then one night, some of the neighborhood kids came up to the house. They were soliciting funds for their uniforms. I gave them a little. But the kids were there for more than that. They asked me to coach them. This team was playing in the mosquito division during my short tenure with the juniors squad. I told them that I didn't think that I could do the job but they would have none of it. I informed them of my apprehensions and gave my conditions for taking over. They agreed to every one of what I asked of them to do. Reluctantly, I obliged. Lying in bed, I wondered what the hell I got myself into.
It was a much pleasant experience coaching the juniors team. I guess, kids really are more pliable and adaptable to the older dogs who you really can't teach new tricks. That sounded funny then because -- what did I know? I took what I learned from the game and how I saw others handle the position. I read books on coaching, asked questions from people like Allan Caidic, Bong Ravena (who was my neighbor), and others. It was a crash course into something that I knew nothing of. Eventually, I distilled ideas and learnings from everywhere into something I could do.
Side story: when Bong won PBA Rookie of the Year with San Miguel Beer, he bought his first car -- a Nissan Sentra. First night he brought it home, he took us out for a spin and to go to McDonald's. At the time I was playing for another team in some inter-barangay league, we would have Bong suit up and join us just for the round-robins. He put the fear of God into our foes. Hahaha!
But things got worse. Not only did I handle the midgets team but the mosquito squad as well. Now, I was asking for trouble. How on earth could I split time between both let alone work that was already demanding? I found myself filing leaves (I know, not exactly the brightest thing to do) and squeezing them into my sked.
The neighborhood basketball teams have a penchant for winning so you can say that I was under intense scrutiny even from the elders who used to coach the teams. The kids wanted a change of face and styles. The older ones would cuss them out a lot and that frightened them. The coaches of the seniors, juniors, midgets, and kids teams came from the former of whom all were much much older.
In both my teams, I had kids from Ateneo (some who played on the PAYA team), LSGH, FEU, Adamson, TIP, Don Bosco, and STI.
For both teams, I ran three basic sets, all of them to suit the talent that I had. On defense, I had them play a full court press. I knew I had the bench and the legs to get that done.
It was hard because I had to get them (and my neighbors who all went to watch the games en masse) to believe in the system. Many questioned if I knew what I was doing. But we got the job done. Both my teams played in the finals and had one loss in eight matches.
The mosquito team played first and it was such a heartbreaking loss that I sat on the bench stunned and in disbelief. It had come down to the final play when one of my players was called for an offensive foul that ended the match. We were down by one point and had a chance to win.
My team immediately left after the game and never bothered to say goodbye. I had no time to recover as the midgets game was next. But win we did as we played the acknowledged best team not just in our area but in inter-barangay competition. We stopped them cold and won by 8 points.
Between the two squads I handled, it was the mosquito team that executed the offense perfectly. Right down to the last pick. As for defense, it was the midgets team that played the full court game better.
That night there was a big celebration in the subdivision for the midgets win and the mosquitos team taking 2nd place. As I made my way to a neighbors house, my kids team went up to me many of them with tears in their eyes. They left in a huff because they felt that they had let me down. I was shocked. I thought it was me who let them down. I still think of the last few minutes when some of my starters were asking to be subbed because they were tired. I looked at my bench that had gotten the job done before but faltered in the championship game. I remember very clearly to this day what I told them (3 of the starters were from the AHS): "Guys, I know you're tired but I need you for one final push." They nodded nervously and I could see how fatigued they were.
That day was magical even with the loss and the win. The elders in the neighborhood who doubted things came over to shake my hand and said that the kids were in good hands. The former Juniors team that I first coached congratulated me (they were the seniors team and they didn't win that year and yes, they did get into several fights).
I came back the following summer to handle both juniors and midgets teams. They had all moved up an age bracket. The Midgets team was undefeated this time but lost once more (to last year's winner) at the final buzzer with the same player of mine muffing the offensive. It was the last time I would coach them.
The juniors team competed in a inter-company tournament as a guest team. We swept the league and won the title (I also won the Best Coach award surprise!). Come the summer league in our area, we lost only one game but were eliminated via quotient system. I didn't come back as well after that. I stopped because I had nothing more to give. It was already conflicting with my work and the losses ate at me. Anyone who knows me would say that loses always would kill me (not anymore). Even in football, one time we lost a game and someone was heckling. I went to the sidelines and beat the crap out of the guy. Until I had to learn to let go then I had to move away.
Here are some of the trophies. The chalice is the Best Coach trophy. I have three more somewheres. Gotta look for them.
Even with the loss, I guess the best thing I got out of it was the respect of my neighbors and of the other squads from other subdivisions and areas. Some came over and asked to play for my teams. Well, I did wonder if it was because they liked our uniforms (the first was a simple red jersey inspired by Liverpool and in the second summer, the design was very Ateneo). In my area of IVS, people still call me "coach" or "Kuya Rick." Even the oldtimers do.
When my kids moved to the seniors division (the combined midgets and juniors roster), they won the title. Twice. I watched the first one and even if I was cheering only for them on the sidelines, I got a victory ride.
I coached once more after that -- for our broadcast team where we won the Division II Championship of the San Miguel-BIBATO league. There I got to play against Allan Caidic (we became friends soon after), Samboy Lim, Hec Calma, Alvin Teng, and Jimmy Santos. In the PBA Press Corps team they had Norman Black (who blocked my shot twice) and for one year, Bobby Parks, TJ Manotoc, and others. The Triggerman hung a four-point play off me. Twice. Do you realize how hard it is to guard the man? He no longer teases me about it. But I did coach my team to the Division II title. Both the PBA Press Corps and SMC team were guest teams because of the presence of former pros and imports. If they beat you, it didn't reflect on the standings but if you got a win - if -- then it was a plus in the W column.
Last night at the wake, we reminisced about that. I no longer think of summer leagues when the month of April rolls around. I think of travel, my kid playing in the AFC, and well, work. I have pictures of my teams and our trophies that I will get around to posting. One of the neighbors asked me -- much to my surprise -- that if I had a chance to do it all over again, would I have subbed my tired midget starters in the last minute? I guess some people never got over that. After all, it was such a painful loss. I replied that I'd stick with my starters. No regrets. That's how it was and how it will always be.
There are no more victory rides or what. I'm still "coach" and they did offer me a toast last night.
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