A heavenly three years

Today marks the beginning of a modest anniversary celebration of The Basketball Show. It’s hard to believe we’ve been around this long. (At times, it feels like an instant; in others, it feels like forever.) For the last three years, I’ve been telling people we’re all on the same team, and I think they’re starting to listen.

In the beginning, it was hard to explain the concept to the public, and to advertisers. First, basketball leagues were unaligned politically. Secondly, how could you fit dozens of games into a one-hour program? On the other hand, people were wondering if there was enough basketball to go around. Thankfully, we have never run out of material.

The Basketball Show has helped many people, and revealed the innermost fears and feelings of the giants of the hardwood. In the last three years, we’ve been all over the archipelago, following the alluring dame called bball where its charms have led us. It’s getting easier to point out places we haven’t been to, than the other way around. Luckily, the journey has taken us to the United States, as well, the world’s capital of basketball. There, we spoke with Tracy McGrady (who graciously plugged our show), Penny Hardaway, Stephone Marbury, Shawn Kemp and others, visited NBA City in Orlando, and were treated royally at the opening of adidas’s global basketball headquarters in Portland. We’ve interviewed former All-Star Detlef Schrempf and NBA Most Improved Player Gilbert Arenas.

There have been many heart-rending moments on our program, illustrating the ups and downs that are a necesssary part of life. Asi Taulava was on top of the world when our program started. In our first year, we interviewed him—45 pounds lighter—after he had been given deportation orders (after he had left the country and missed the birth of his first child, Asiana.) We talked to a frustrated Eric Menk, who sat out 11 months to straighten out his won issues with the Bureau of Immigration, and also revealed a player who was not Filipino based on a technicality, but is still around. Then there was the sad story of Jimwell Torion, who repeatedly cried on camera in the face of his repeated stumbling on bad behavior. We have followed the story of basketball to the hallowed halls of Malacañang and Congress, as support for the national team and investigations into fake Fil-foreigners gained groundswell.

Pain and triumph are the inseparable twins that have made this thrilling ride worthwhile, always. We saw Danny Seigle tear a tender tendon a mere week before the Asian Games, and figuratively and literally put an arm around Olsen Racela and coach Jong Uichico when they felt the pain of blame. Happily, both have more than made a full recovery. We trailed the De La Salle Green Archers, Ateneo de Manila Blue Eagles, and Far Eastern University Tamaraws to the peak of collegiate triumph, as the wheels of time spin like a basketball about to find the bottom of the net.

There have been controversies involving drugs and citizenship, bad calls and trades, and personalities clashing with each other. For weeks, we sat on the sidelines as Lito Puyat and Tiny Literal battled for the BAP’s presidency, and patiently waited for change to take root. We followed the demise of the Metropolitan Basketball Association and the teams, players and coaches who were orphaned because of the fiscal shortsightedness of a handful of rich men who, in the end, didn’t really care. Remarkably, those who did care are back, supported the MBA’s spiritual offspring, the URBL, soon to be born.

We have followed the careers of those who have bobbed up and down like a castaway about to drown. Bong Alvarez and Vince Hizon were the most prominent of those who have gone so far as to become imports themselves for the love of the game. BJ Manalo is back in the limelight, albeit wearing blue and white instead of green. Last year, he fulfilled many dreams, playing for the national team, in the UAAP and PBL, and got to go one-on-one against his idol T-Mac. Then tears in his knee kept him away for a full season. Now he has one more year to boost his stock again.

There have been many friends off the court, as well. Carlos Singson is a Filipino in the NBA, in charge of spreading the gospel of the world’s biggest game in our country. We met a high school teacher who was Shell’s mascot, the people who patch up players and send them back into battle, cheerleaders, fans, jersey and trophy makers, photographers and a vast circus of characters who make the game so colorful. Tomorrow at 3:30 p.m., we will have our first grand chat with our e-group of more than 800 members, starter by a pair of teen fans in Iloilo. You can join through http://groups.yahoo.com/group/thebasketballshow and chat with some PBA players, as well.

We have covered disc jockeys, bankers, firemen, midgets, paraplegics, priests, other athletes, Crispa and Toyota redux, children, girls and grandfathers. From an alumni league of 115 teams to small grade school tournaments, we’ve been there. Wherever the game has been, we’ve been there.

We’ve received letters from California and the West Coast, Dubai and Davao, Hong Kong and Australia. We are now carried internationally, and have found a new home in ABC 5. Without our visionary and generous sponsors, we wouldn’t have broken new ground. And without the people who have found their passion in hoops, we wouldn’t have lasted this long. I’ve even crossed the line to play in benefit games, with the San Miguel All-Stars, and won an NBA 2Ball contest with my son along the way. And it has never stopped being fun.

To all those who believe, thank you. Always remember, wherever you go, whatever you do, we are all on the same team. God bless.