YOU don’t call it a finals when…………..

YOU don’t call it a finals when one team is beating the other black and blue and depriving the public of an expected exciting series finale.
No one wants to see a team beating the hell out of its counterpart, pummeling them at every turn in the finals. No sports fan wants to see the score ends at 100-70, a rebounding disparity of 25 to 30 in a game or a team playing better, dishing out 20 more assists than the squad it has defeated.
You don’t call it a finals when you see a thousand or few more hundreds empty seats from Game 1 until it last. A finals game needed hype so as to attract more viewers be they a fan or not. What’s the lowest attendance in a finals game? Could it be the 1987 finals between Hills Brothers and San Miguel? Or could it be the Swift vs Seven-Up encounter when the Uncolas got swept in 1992? I can’t recall. But these fans wanted to see some great basketball. They wanted to see Jose Slaughter popping up treys one after another. They wanted to see The Hurricane Tony Harris and anticipate of another high-scoring game from him that could reach more than a 100 all by his lonesome.
They wanted to see some good games. They wanted to see players hitting baskets one after another. They wanted to see teams going after the ball, diving to get it and doing whatever it takes to get the ball. They wanted to see players blocking their opponents’ shot as if saying that “shooting over him won’t be an easy task.” They wanted to see baskets in spurts, cutting huge deficits and getting back into the game to turn a lopsided match into an exciting down-to-the-wire encounter. In other words, fans came to see the game and wanted to get their money’s worth.
And most of all, you don’t call it a finals when you see referees deciding the outcome of the match.
Players decide the turnout of the game – and not the officials. Referees should be on top of the situation, but they don’t put to a halt to a great play. They should not deprive a player or a team making good stop. They should not make bail out calls to superstars and give them freebies. Just because James Yap is one of the biggest draws in the PBA today and Kerby Raymundo is the team captain of Purefoods and was a two-time all-pro national team member weren’t good reasons enough to separate them from other players or a team even if it’s Joe Devance, a former top overall pick, and Alaska, a classy organization that won 12 PBA titles and a win away from duplicating the championship collections of the legendary Crispa Redmanizers.
Referee Maui Mauricio should forget thinking of becoming this season’s Referee of the Year with his bum call in the last 1.7 seconds of Game 2 of the best-of-seven championship series. Without giving consideration that it won’t have any effects at all should he stayed quiet and watched Raymundo let loose a jumper than blowing his whistle, the referee made a gutsy call and was cocky enough to justify his claim that there was a contact. Had Raymundo’s shot went in even without the whistle, Purefoods would have tasted the sweetest win – a victory that happened after a long chase when the squad needed last action heroes in Yap and Raymundo.
Instead, the Giants had to cap that big run with a bailout call from Mauricio. Not only did the referee allowed Raymundo of shattering the game’s final deadlock at 85-all, he also spoiled what could be an interesting finish to Game 2 regardless of who will win. But why decide the outcome based on your whistle? Isn’t it more logical to see players finish the game and be given credit for the win?
PBA commissioner Sonny Barrios remained mum for any comments at this time, but I expect him to give a mouthful on Mauricio and the two other officials who worked on that game.
How does Purefoods treats Game 2 victory that put the team ahead 2-0 in the series?
Of course, coach Ryan Gregorio could always tell a win is a win and he would be glad to take it in a best-of-seven showdown. Without taking away anything from Purefoods, I would tell the Giants did a good job of coming back and turning the game into a humdinger.
What did Alaska feel when it lost the game and fell down 0-2?
Despite the injustice done in the closing seconds, the Aces played with so much class when the stakes were higher. They were deprived of a chance to win – at least for the next five minutes or so in that game – had the referee didn’t blow his whistle.
There were no protest filed, no walkouts made. Just a sudden burst of emotion against the call that went against them and that’s it. They remained classy even against the toughest time. I wonder if some teams should admire what the Aces did and emulate it.
And for coach Tim Cone, who is certainly the more outspoken among the two mentors battling in the finals, he didn’t make the bum calls as excuse. He was looking at the bigger picture in that game – an Alaska fan who was struggling for his life.
In his Twitter account., Cone recounted his failure to use one of his timeouts so as to stop the action and possibly help out Steve Racelis, who collapsed in the Alaska gallery during the heat of the action. For the multi-titled mentor, who value so much winning, championship and team chemistry, he sees life as bigger than the game of basketball.
“I wish I had been quick-thinking enough to use one of our own timeouts to stop the game for him,” said Cone. “He’s undergoing brain surgery at the Lourdes Hospital.”

“The game is not sacred. Life is. My prayers and the Alaska organization's prayers go out to him and his family,” said Cone. “The worst thing about Game 2 was the PBA's refusal to stop the game when a fan was in obviously serious distress. I was shocked.”

All those things that happened to Alaska – the injustice, the fan struggling for his life and the deficit that only happened for Alaska for just the second time since Cone has been at the helm – should be used as a motivating drive for the Aces’ next game. We could only hope a real finals game should be played this time.

Batch 92: Here we go again

TWO familiar faces joined the self-proclaimed Fab Four, who started the series of get togethers for Judge Juan Luna’s Batch 92 in the Year of the Tiger.

One of them, a former cadet officer for his high school’s alma matter, barely showed signs of aging, while the other one presented a new, bombastic look.

Meng Garcia, better known as Batcom or Battalion Commander, showed up his lean frame, boyish look and respectful aura that made him as one of the most feared voices – and endearing personality among ladies -- during the school’s cadet formation of Class 91-92.






Floren Andres presented his new figure. Now heavier not only due to his unwanted pounds but in terms of responsibilities as well, the son of a retired teacher provided his bright spot – a bald image -- that symbolizes the years of hard work he had endured from being a dutiful son, a diligent student and a devoted employee.

No wonder, he still remains a certified bachelor.

They were present one humid Saturday afternoon at their favorite spot – Jollibee Munoz. Minutes later, they were joined by two cornerstones of the WBCJ – Lt. Christopher Cruz and beverage company manager Benjo de Leon and yours truly.

Together, we visited another ex-Rizalian, Renato Laurente -- not related to Arnold Laurente, husband of the former Kaye Sanchez -- who was at the nearby telecom repair shop. With several cellphone units lined up to be repaired at that time, Renato could only offer a promise he would join us later on, which unfortunately never happened.

On board an early 90s model of maroon Kia Pride, Memeng did the honors of driving us from the tiring stretch of Congressional, to the trafficking Batasan all the way to Marikina.

Over at that green gate was Bobot Ramos’ resident.

It was business as usual for a Saturday for Bobot, who simply couldn’t say no to his long-lost friends he hadn’t seen for many years, except of course for the three of us – me, Lt. Cruz and Benjo, who just invaded the multi-million auto shop company just months back.

Just a simple greetings and shaking of hands keep us all warmed up until the proud host invited everyone for a merienda nearby. We picked Chowking over Jollibee because the choices were pretty obvious – that we’re no kids anymore and aren’t fascinated as well by a playing area inside.

Aside from getting the wrong set of orders – me getting a bola-bola rather than asado siopao and Floren receiving vice versa, and the number of pineapple juices exceeding by two glasses, the short yet entertaining chit chat got as all on our toes.

We traveled back, but decided to pull over to get our favorite pulutan – a delectable liempo and a lechon manok.

Off to the batcave.

Already prepared were the beers on the cooler. Bobot took his turn setting up his humble office – a well-oiled machine by the day to customers who came in either by group or one at a time, but being used as a VIP Room for people who became VIPs to the host’s life.

No camera was available at that time, forcing us to use my mobile phone instead. After few snaps, a glass or two of Del Monte Fit and Right, Memeng had decided to depart us to fulfill his duty as a devoted husband and father to his two kids.

So we’re now down to five. There were no countdowns made from there onwards. We’re not much aware of the time either what with a videoke all set up, turning a drinking spree into a night of entertaining music in between lively chit chat and recollection of the not-so-distant past (whew, 18 years was just like yesterday).

From the VIP room, Bobot decided to transfer us to the function room – their living room inside his kingdom. There in front of us was a 70-plus inches, Sony LCD television. There, we took turns, impersonating our all-time favorite band/singers from rock groups Guns and Roses, Kamikaze Parokya ni Edgar, Jazz maker Mike Francis to balladeers Jose Marie Chan, Basil Valdez and Andy Gibb.

As the night fell and morning slowly crept in, an unexpected call came from a long lost friend. Lt. Cruz’s phone rang around 2 a.m. and a familiar enthusiastic voice burned the line. It was Redondo Basabas, who was a million miles away from us. The guy is working in the Middle East, but didn’t mind to drop by just to say Hi and asked everyone how the gathering was proving that friendship could also be a phone call away.

The guy certainly missed us – a lot – more so his family whom he deserted for quite some time now. It won’t take long for Dondon to come back. He will be here few weeks from now.

But the night won’t be complete without the Q and A where each one of them took turns in pulling out the cat from the bag.

Benjo de Leon: My most embarrassing? Ah, yung tinulak ako ni Junel sa hagdan he he he. My most memorable moment? Of course, it’s the friendship that we’ve attained which remains even up to now.

Lt. Christopher Cruz: My most embarrassing experience happened nu’ng naglaro kami ng basketball at nahulog ako sa kanal, he he he. First year lang kami nun. Most memorable, parehas din kay Benjo, yung pagiging magkaibigan which has become our foundation through the years.

Bobot Ramos: Dati,si Ms. Yangco very strict sa mga nali-late. Nakailang beses yata akong nag-flag ceremony na kami-kami lang kasama yung ibang late so that’s an embarrassing moment. Most memorable for me was my inclusion in the WBCJ group.

Floren Andres: Embarassing moment is yung hinalikan ko si Romena Ramos.

As for me? Well, I puked during my junior year in the corridor at a time when we were taking the exam. There was too much alcohol intake and I assumed the effects would give me great results during test. Benjo mentioned to me this rare opportunity of penetrating the elite Rizal class and I must admit that’s one of my few accomplishments – and possibly the greatest during high school.

Memories, good or bad, had given us lessons in life. But one thing I’ve realized is that high school won’t be complete without friends on your side. No wonder, that’s the consensus of the five of us who once again brought back the hands of time and will use this philosophy until we’re here.

This is indeed the living testament of true friendship – a fact that remains come hell or high water.