basketball and comics

Bukod sa hilig sa komiks noong teener pa ako, isa sa passion ko ay ang basketball. I grew up with a makeshift half court in our backyard. Many of my playmates then considered me a pretty good shooter and a tough defender, though I cannot dribble the ball well.

Nang mag-college ako, isang special course at sampu lang kaming magkaklase na puro barako, ay tuwing Sabado ang aming PE. That was fine with me dahil ang nagha-handle mismo sa amin ay ang head ng PE department na nagtuturo ng karate kasabay ng aming PE. Actually, hinahayaan lang niya kaming maglaro ng basketbol sa gym habang nagtuturo siya ng self defense sa naggagandahang karatekas (karate practitioners) mula sa mga private schools sa Batangas City. Most of the time, I wasn’t playing but rather gawking at the pretty ass kickers practicing their kata (karate dance).

One time, habang naglalaro kaming magkakaklase ay may dumating na tropa na galing pa raw Mindoro at makikiensayo ng basketbol sa amin. The pretty karatekas were then cooling down at the bleachers and I thought it was time for me to show them my basketball stuff. Titilian n’yo ako, I told to myself. Pumayag kami na makipaglaro sa mga dayo kahit mas malalaki sila.

The Mindoro guys was bannered by a rugged-playing 6-footer. Sa umpisa pa lang ng laro, naramdaman ko nang walang chance na manalo kami. In one play, I made a mistake of getting in the way of the rampaging 6-footer who never hesitated in bulldozing his way toward me. The collision sent me meters away from the playing court. Para akong lata sa kalye na tinadyakan at tumilapon. Tulad nang inaasahan ko, nagtilian nga ang naggagandahang karatekas, hindi sa paghanga sa akin kundi sa panghihilakbot sa nangyari. I left the court limping and with bruised ego. Isang linggo na ang nakalipas ay masasakit pa ang mga kasu-kasuan ko.

Later on, I have learned that the rugged playing 6-footer was on his way to play for a team in the PBL, and much later became one of PBA’s superstars—Nelson ‘The Bull’ Asaytono.

Geez!

I had another encounter with a professional basketball player when I was still working in an American company somewhere in Pasig City. One fine Sunday, after our overtime, I and my co-workers watched the San Miguel Beer’s newly drafted player, Bobby Jose, sweating it out in an open court. Nang pagpawisan na, niyaya niya kaming maglaro. Nasa kainitan naman noon ang aming tournament sa company kaya puro kami praktisado. Nakipaglaro kami sa kanya, at ewan kung ano ang nakain ko nang araw na iyon at masyadong maganda ang pulso ko. I engaged Bobby in a fierce shootout, kaya pagkatapos naming maglaro ay nasabihan niya ako na, “Sana matangkad ka o kaya mahusay magdribol para point guard.” Naobserbahan niya na hindi ako masyadong marunong magdala ng bola.

But my most memorable basketball game happened in the summer of 1988. I was supposed to finish another semester, plus on the job training but my college ruled out that I should discontinue my course for being so radical. Anyway, during that time I already have my eyes trained in looking for a job since schooling doesn’t doing me any good. Bago ako lumuwas ng Maynila to look for any job, sabi ko sa parents ko ay sasali muna ako sa summer basketball tournament sa aming baryo, knowing that it would be my last.

Nang gabing i-announce ng barangay captain ang lineup, nalaman kong hindi ako kasama sa alinmang team. Nang itanong ko kung bakit, sininghalan pa ako ng kapitan at sinabing parusa raw niya sa akin iyon dahil hindi ako nagparehistong member ng Kabataang Barangay, at higit sa lahat, nahuli niya akong tinitirador at nilalagyan ng sungay ang mga poster ni Marcos noong kampanya ng snap election. Uh, when you’re young you do crazy things.

May mga ilang nakiusap sa kapitan na isali na lang ako tutal I have brought some honors in our barangay noong nasa high school pa ako. He agreed, pero isinama niya ako sa team ng mga Bicolano na nagtatrabaho sa isang malaking farm sa aming baryo bilang poultry boys.

Dahil addict ako sa basketball, okey na rin. Pero siyempre ay may kantiyaw ang mga kaibigan ko na pang-poultry boy raw pala ang karakas ko.

Para hindi naman ako mailang sa mga Bicolano, I asked my cousin to join me in the team. He’s 17 years old then, 5’ 10”, and a Richard Gomez look-alike. But in spite of his athletic frame, my cousin was a basketball phobic, and never touched a ball aside from the two balls hanging between his legs. He was a gifted painter though.

Ayaw niya. Tangging-tanggi na sumali. Pagtatawanan lang daw siya ng mga tao. Later on I learned that one of the reasons kung bakit ayaw niyang sumali ay may nililigawan palang magandang bakasyunista sa aming baryo at doon nauubos ang oras niya.

Ever since I was young I had this mind of a criminal. I gave my cousin an ‘offer’ he can’t refuse just to have him in our team. I told him that I’m gonna help him court the pretty bakasyunista. I also warned him that if he refuses my offer, I’m going to tell that girl his dark secret—that he’s not yet circumcised, and with that, he can kiss his chances of winning the heart of his pretty bakasyunista inamorata goodbye.

Knowing that I am capable of doing such a threat, my cousin loses excuses and agreed to join our ‘Bicol Express’ team.

The Bicolano poultry boys, to my surprise, were good in hoop. At napakababait. Pagkakatapos ng aming laro ay inililibre pa kami ng pinsan ko ng meryenda. Mabubuting kaibigan ang mga Bicolano.

Call it poetic justice but our team went straight to the championship. At sa oras ng kampeonato, sudden death, matatawa kayo sa kuwento.

Nagulat ang mga nanonood why I was scoring at will. During the elimination round, I was good for 8 to 10 points only. Pero noong championship na, halftime pa lang ay naka-22 points na ako. Maging ang coach ng kalaban naming team ay nagtataka kung bakit hindi ako masyadong dinidepensahan ng kanyang mga player kaya nakalalamang kami ng malaki.

Here’s the secret. Halos lahat ng player ng kalaban naming team ay ako ang sumusulat ng love letter sa kani-kanilang syota noon. Simula sa ligawan hanggang sa patuloy na pagsusulatan ay dumadaan sa akin ang sulat ng mga syota nila, tapos ay ipasasagot nila sa akin. At kaya walang bumabantay sa akin ay nag-aalangan sila na mapilay ang kamay ko, o masaktan ako at mawalan sila ng escribiente (clerk). At bukod sa sulat, nilalakipan ko pa ang kanilang love letter ng drawing, mostly were horribly drawn portfolios, copied from nar cantillo and cal sobrepeña from the pages of extra and love life komiks.

Anyway, nang nasa dying minutes na ang laro ay nasaktan yata ang pride ng mga kalaban namin sa kantiyaw ng mga manonood kaya pinilit nilang humabol. The Bicol Express team slowly loses steam, and one by one my uragon teammates were hobbled by personal fouls. I thought we gonna lose the game.

But it was my basketball phobic cousin who stole the show. Last 10 seconds ay tie ang score. Inbound kami. Na-fouled out na ang aming Bicolano Superman na sentro kaya napilitan kaming gamitin ang matangkad kong pinsan. Sabi ko sa kanya, pumuwesto siya sa ilalim, sa kanya ko ipapasa ang bola at pagkasalo niya ay basta niya ihagis sa ring dahil tiyak na ipa-foul siya. Pag nag-free throw siya, pilitin niyang makapag-shoot kahit isa at tiyak na champion kami.

The eternity of basketball came to a halt nang ihagis ko na ang bola sa pinsan ko. Kahit ako ay hindi naunawaan kung ano ang nangyari at gayun na lang ang pagkakagulo ng mga tao kasabay ng pagtunog ng buzzer.

It turned out that my cousin was able to shoot the ball before the time expires. Pandemonium erupted. All of a sudden I was very, very proud of him.

When the euphoria settled and I, my cousin and the Bicolanos were already having a post game celebration, sabi ko sa pinsan ko ay nagulat ako sa nangyari. Hindi ko ‘kako nakita ang buong pangyayari dahil ang game plan was for him just to fish for a foul. Paano niya nai-shoot ang bola?

Sabi niya, abut-abot daw ang kaba ng dibdib niya nang ihahagis ko na sa kanya ang bola. At nang nasa ere na, pagtingala niya ay nasilaw siya sa napakaliwanag na Mercury light na nasa kalapit na poste at nagdilim ang paningin niya. Naramdaman daw niya na tumama sa kamay niya ang bola, hindi niya nasalo pero dahil malakas ang pagkakahagis ko ay tumama sa board, at eksaktong bumanda pa-shoot sa ring. Lucky punch kumbaga sa boksing.

The next day, still in cloud nine with his basketball heroics, my cousin went straight to our barrio’s Mang Kepweng (albularyo) and has him circumcised.

The incident never lured him to play basketball again. He finished a two-year drafting course, then took nursing and now works in the municipal health department in Batangas City. And oh, he won the heart of the pretty bakasyunista but their romance never last forever, it ended when she came back to Manila and my cousin never heard of her again. He has a family now, and still paints, he told me.

Sa insidenteng iyon ko rin nalaman ang katotohanan sa kasabihang, ‘A pen is mightier than the sword.’ Dahil lang sa ako ang gumagawa ng love letter ng mga nakalaban namin sa championship, ayaw na ayaw nilang masaktan ako.

Sa isang artikulo naman ay nabasa ko, ‘If you’re a very good writer you can rule the world.’

Maybe.

In my case, I’m a marginal writer, folks. Very marginal. Right attitude, work ethics, professionalism and maybe some luck are the factors that keep me in the thick of things in this business, not my writing talent or skills.

INTER-KENKOY: Kuha ito sa isang basketball tournament sa Atlas Publishing dubbed as Inter-Kenkoy. Member ako ng Darna team. Teammates ko ang noon ay bata pang si Meyo de Jesus (katabi ng muse), Noli Sarile (lettering artist at anak ng cartooning legend na si Bert Sarile) at si Danny Villanueva (lettering artist at kapatid ni Rudamin ‘Rudy’ Villanueva). Ang muse namin na nakalimutan ko na ang pangalan ay isang budding rockstar noong ‘90s. Ang iba pang teammates namin na nakalimutan ko na ang mga pangalan ay taga-Litographic (printing) Department. Nasa dulong kaliwa ako. Hindi ko na-enjoy ang basketball sa Atlas; what was suppose to be a ‘Kenkoy tournament’ always end up in a melee.