The Bobby Parks I knew

Bobby Parks has always been a symbol of excellence for me. He was the type of player who could do anything on the basketball court, yet always chose to do what was best for the team. And that flawless jump shot of his was money. When he, Benjie Paras and Ronnie Magsanoc were on the floor, Shell was nearly unstoppable: the ‘Point Laureate’ on the outside, the “Tower of Power” on the inside, and ‘Memphis Slim’ everywhere in between. And oh, those battles with Ginebra in the early ‘90’s were suspenseful, rugged, mind-blowing struggles. I remember. I was there.

Bobby was always a great interview, accommodating and light-hearted, not a mean bone in his body. While other imports acted like they were doing the press a favor, Parks led by example, on and off the court. His achievements will probably never be broken. Imports are more mercenary now, some mere flashes in the pan, others just downright goons. Bobby was real. He lived life and squeezed the juice out of it. Everybody wanted an import like Bobby Parks.

In 1997, the Philippines rejoined the ABC Champions Cup after an absence of about eight years. Allowed two reinforcements, Andok’s Philippines had Bobby and Alex Coles, the former Ginebra import who leapfrogged five people to win a PBA slam dunk contest. The games were held at the old Malaysian Basketball Association (MABA) coliseum.

On one play, Bobby was still in the backcourt, and spotted Coles racing ahead. He threw a perfect alley-oop pass and Coles caught the ball with his elbows above the rim, cocked it, and slammed it in. The crowd reaction was so intense, the Malaysian coach was forced to call a timeout to calm his players down.

But I also saw how much of a warrior Bobby was. He and Alex were being tripped, slapped in the groin and elbowed. At halftime, he showed me his right hand. The skin between his thumb and index finger had been gouged out, a white half-circle of flesh peeking through, in the perfect shape of a fingernail. But he never said anything. He just played better, and led his team to a championship.

A couple of years later, Bobby was paired with Tony Harris, the epitome of the new breed of import, swaggering, selfish and arrogant. Bobby was the stabilizing force on a team that could have fallen apart at any time. And whenever ‘Hurricane’ went solo against an entire defense, Bobby was there to fight for the rebound or help out. At worst, he would just shake his head or ask for the ball.

Then there was the NBA 2Ball contest almost a decade ago. My younger son Daniel and I decided to join. After all, he was a budding baller at 11, in fact the only child in the competition. Bobby and his 16-year old older son also joined, along with a pair of other teams of coaches and amateur players. Anybody can have a great game for one minute, and Daniel and I did, winning the shootout and claiming our prizes from the Golden State Warrior Girls.

Needless to say, that didn’t sit too well with Mr. Parks. In the simultaneously held three-point shootout, he recalled his fearsome form of just a few years before, and promptly smoked everybody. As we were getting our trophies, he simply said, “I couldn’t let you have all the hardware.” With a smile, at that.

That night, Daniel couldn’t sleep, clutching his glass NBA Madness trophy. “We beat adults! We beat adults!” he kept exclaiming. Then after a moment of sudden realization, his eyes widened and he shouted “We beat Bobby Parks! We beat Bobby Parks!” I was just glad Bobby never heard him. I’m sure the payback would have hurt like hell.

Bobby never said no to helping out a Philippine team, either. It was, in fact, in a scrimmage with one that he suffered his first major injury. He had been battered, undercut, fouled hard and tripped so many times, it was amazing he wasn’t in the hospital every other week. He just willed himself and his team on.

Bobby and former Shell team manager Charlie Favis also set up The Hoops School. Going to hundreds of smaller schools in Metro Manila and its surroundings to spread their knowledge of hoops. Bobby was always generous with his time and his smile. I never heard him raise his voice, no matter how things were getting out of hand in anything. He always knew everything would be right in the end.

Thank you for the memories, Bobby Ray. And for who you were. You were the best. Ever.