Thus spoke Philippine Basketball League Commissioner Chino Trinidad of the recently-concluded PBL Chairman’s Cup finals between Welcoat Paints and Shark Energy Drink. Although Welcoat unceremoniously swept Shark, 4-0, it was, frankly, anticlimactic. There was plenty of drama to begin with.
Shark was the team that denied Welcoat four straight championships. Welcoat, in turn, wanted payback. Welcoat, for its part, almost self-destructed, as reported fallout between coach Junel Baculi and his players nearly disintegrated the team. But all parties concerned knew they had a good thing going, and refused to crumble.
Then, in a seemingly endless test of endurance, Shark had to survive a long-drawn, three-overtime squeaker with Giv Soap just to barge into the finals. This was the rematch everybody was looking for.
"It’s payback time, as my players would say," Baculi said proudly before the series started. This is what they’ve been waiting for, and they’re ready for it."
"My players are more comfortable playing Welcoat in the finals now," Shark coach Leo Austria said. "Not like before, we were still groping."
"A league is built by its rivalries," Trinidad explains. "In college, there’s Ateneo-La Salle. In the old MICAA, there was Ysmael-Yco. In the PBA, they still talk about Crispa-Toyota. Here in the PBL, we have Welcoat vs. Shark. Not to take away anything from the other teams—because we’re all equal here—but rivalries like this bring a lot of attention to a league."
But not all rivalries cause a stir. The Ateneo-Pioneer and La Salle-Osaka duels didn’t really cause a fever, but, when you think about it, it was diluted by non-Atenean and non-La Sallian players. But give it time to percolate, and it’ll blow up soon.
The PBL will now go on hiatus, as its college players now don different uniforms in the UAAP and NCAA, where old and new rivalries catch fire again. The NCAA opens first, on July 7, followed by the UAAP the following week.
But what really makes a good rivalry?
First of all, there must be competitiveness. It is always a relationship of equals, or else, it’s no contest. Both opposite numbers must be winners, or what’s the point? In the 1980’s, the Los Angeles Lakers and Boston Celtics met in the NBA Finals almost every year. LA won five, Boston 3. And Magic Johnson and Larry Bird were considered the consummate players of their era. It was considered inevitable that they would clash at their profession’s highest level.
Secondly, since both teams involved are so strong, they inevitably stand against each other on the mountaintop. And, in essence, they inevitably block each other’s path to glory. Crispa and Toyota did exactly that for more than a generation. In every incarnation, they willed themselves to defeat each other. Even in the car industry, competition spills into other arenas. In Europe, car companies sponsor kids’ ice hockey teams in what is known as "Formula 1 on Ice." Competition knows no bounds.
Third, even when they say it’s business, revenge is a big factor. One team wins today, the other plots its downfall first thing in the morning. It gets personal. There is satisfaction in putting another team down. Why are the Negros Slashers and Cebuana Lhuillier Gems the hot ticket in the MBA’s Southern Conference? It apparently dates back over a hundred years, when itinerant farmers from Cebu found their way to Ilonggo haciendas. Apparently, land owners and land tillers did not get along.
Fourth, rivals must push each other to new limits. Muhammad Ali fought Joe Frazier three times. Each battle was a classic. After Ali fought Frazier in the Thrilla in Manila, he was asked what the experience was like.
"It was like death," was his unusually short reply.
Their rivalry soon became personal, especially when Frazier expressed his bitterness over Ali’s relative success. His bile made him look even more the bad guy Ali painted him to be, particularly since Ali was already disabled by Parkinson’s disease when Frazier made his comments. Both blessed with daughters, they carried their fistic grudges over to the next generation.