The Cornell University varsitarian is an American who was born in the Philippines, and played professionally here. He speaks the language better than many locals. (This interview had to be translated from the vernacular, by the way. At a time when foreigners want to leave, his brother flew in so they could be together. He’s won a title in the Metropolitan Basketball Association, of which he has also been Most Valuable Player. His life, and his career here, strangely enough, has been filled with ups and downs.
In the queer trend of the MBA, every champion team had a way of disappearing, until the league itself folded. First, the 1998 champion Pampanga Dragons folded, followed by the 1999 kings Manila Metrostars. The San Juan Knights were also disbanded, and last champion Negros Slashers merely preceded the league’s demise.
Compton, meanwhile, was reaping the benefits. His salary was befitting of his status, which was exceeded only by his work ethic. Endorsements started to come, and life was great. Then his LBC Blades were eliminated, and Alex flew off to Europe and the US for six months.
"What happened was, after the last conference, my older brother (Ben) and I had a chance to travel to Europe together," Alex explains. "We’re both getting older and aren’t married yet. Soon one of us is going to get married, so we took the opportunity to travel together. We also played for the Champions for Christ. I trained in Austin, Texas. We also gave clinics in Latvia, and preached our faith."
It was during this trip that Compton once again discovered that he had no team. Initially, the Blades were disbanded, but head coach Nash Racela was supposed to run the new Pop Cola team in the PBL. Unfortunately, Coca-Cola shot down the idea of having another basketball team, and Compton was left in limbo.
"I felt sad," he begins, "because we had gotten close with my teammates. What can I do? I’m just a player. I was glad that Pop Cola came along. Then it didn’t push through."
Alex got a phone call from RFM Group vice-president, and long-time Pop Cola team manager Elmer Yañga, asking him if he would be interested in joining their team in the PBL. They were adopting the University of Santo Tomas Growling Tigers. Aside from the chemistry adjustments, Alex found himself in a new role: that of elder statesman. He laughs at a personal irony.
"We used to give Nandy Garcia a hard time about it (with the Manila Metrostars)," he chuckles. "We used to call him kuya (Garcia now plays with the San Miguel All-Stars). Now, people are calling me "Kuya Alex." I feel so old."
Compton, who once averaged 44 minutes a game for Manila, is enjoying being the mentor to some of his teammates. But he still dreams of playing in the PBA, although he is, ironically, too small to be an import.
"I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to play in the PBA," he stresses. "That’s why I came here. Actually, if they’re looking for somebody who was born in the Philippines (Compton was born in Makati) it’s easy to get a birth certificate. But if they’re looking for someone who’s established residency, I’ve been here for five years. I’ve dreamed of being in the PBA since I came here."
Unfortunately for Compton, the deadline has passed for Fil-Am applicants for the PBA. Next year’s draft is sure to be deluged by pro hopefuls, more so since the league is changing format. Those who don’t turn pro next year will have to wait a year and a half, since the league opens in October of 2005.
But perhaps, if the PBA is kind, they will consider someone who is not an "ugly American," who has learned the culture and the language, who has represented the country in international competition, and who has carried himself well, and is, curiously enough, very Filipino.
Wouldn’t that take the cake?