Calvin Abueva: A thin line between love and hate

A day after Alaska knocked out Barangay Ginebra in the quarterfinals of the last season's Governor's Cup, a series of league posters hanging along the streets of Araneta Center were vandalized with the thick ink of a permanent marker. Calvin Abueva’s image was defaced with angry lines several times over, perhaps in a moment of fury for a die-hard Ginebra fan who was heartbroken with yet another early playoff exit.

Ginebra was actually winning that game. That is, before Abueva, sporting fresh Iverson-style cornrows for the night, completely changed the momentum of the game by doing what he did best: getting into the head of his opponents and ruining their game. By the third quarter, the tension finally boiled over: Ginebra import Orlando Johnson got in his ear after drawing a foul, and LA Tenorio pushed him to the floor in the ensuing commotion.

The lull after the incident as game officials reviewed violations threw Ginebra off its game. As Alaska erased an 11-point deficit en route to victory, it was easy to imagine why a fan would take out his frustration on Abueva’s face with graffiti.

Abueva and Ginebra go back a long way. In his rookie season, Abueva was public enemy number one when the Aces swept the Gin Kings in the finals of the 2013 Commissioner’s Cup, famously silencing the country’s largest basketball fan-base with a finger.

It was easy to hate Calvin Abueva. He came into the league as a rookie with veteran instincts, a newbie who instantly cast himself as a villain with his antics and physicality against the league’s established superstars. He wagged his tongue, taunted opposing teams and fans, and basked in the ensuing pandemonium, as if watching everyone else lose their cool is his personal mission.

Since his debut four years ago, Abueva has had his share of fines for technical fouls, flopping, and flagrant fouls.

He gets as much as he gives, having been on the receiving end of cheap shots and the occasional barricade-pinning and collar-grabbing from riled up rivals. Fans holler insults and curses at him from the stands and greet him with passionate booing whenever he enters the court.

Abueva does not really care. He encourages it, even, as though the beast inside him enjoys toying with its prey before going for the kill.

“Murahin mo ako? Tawanan kita, dilaan kita. Pero sabihin ko sa ‘yo, pag once na napaganda ako, mas lalo kang maasar sa akin. Talagang tatahimik ka.”

James Yap had long been the face of the PBA by the time Abueva came onto the scene in the 2012-2013 season. A two-time Most Valuable Player, Yap was the leader of the second most popular ball club in the league.

But Calvin Abueva was not interested in past accolades or present stature of his foes.

When the Aces clashed with Yap's San Mig Coffee Mixers in the semifinals series of the Commissioner’s Cup, he found himself guarding the face of the PBA.

Naturally, Abueva talked trash against the veteran superstar. “Ang guwapo mo, ang guwapo mo,” he told Yap, who responded by pointing to his cheek and saying, “Sige, i-kiss mo ako.”

San Mig Coffee ended up winning the tightly fought game. Yap was smiling as he addressed the playful banter in an interview with the commentators, unaware that The Beast simply tested the waters of a playoff duel with the so-called Big Game James.

The next game, Abueva raised the intensity and his suffocating defense succeeded in undoing the superstar. Yap posted him up in the low block several times, but the rookie pulled out everything from his bag of tricks and forced the frustrated veteran into foul trouble. Yap, who was limited to five points in just 21 minutes of action, said Abueva was hurting his fellow players with his physicality and accused him of flopping. “Masyado siyang nagpapakilala e,” he was quoted as saying.

“Napikon ako kasi syempre gusto niya magpakita. Ganun naman talaga, ganun ang laro niya before. Wala siyang kinakatakutan,” Yap says as he recalls that heated match-up. Abueva had his fair share of haters before that episode, but clashing with the Man with a Million Moves himself just burned his bad boy image into the eyes of PBA fans. He was deemed too cocky, too brash, too full of himself, and it did not help that then Gilas Pilipinas head coach Chot Reyes later said in an interview that his attitude would not land him a spot in the national team.

As far as Abueva is concerned, however, the playing court is a place of skirmish and therefore not for the weak-willed. “Minsan makakaganti ako, makakasadya ako, pero natural lang ‘yun e. Natural lang sa court ‘yan. Hindi naman puwedeng magpabebe ka diyan,” he says, waving his hand for emphasis. “Hindi naman pupuwede ‘yun di ba? Eh siyempre ‘pag sa court, bibigay mo lahat e para manalo ‘yung team mo.”

Alaska teammates use a cliche to describe him, but they're usually cliches for a reason: they're not wrong.

“Si Calvin ‘yung player na ayaw mong maging kalaban, gusto mong maging teammate,” says Dondon Hontiveros. “Sa scrimmage nga ayaw mong maging kalaban e, kasi sobrang pisikal, ang tigas ng katawan.”

Cyrus Baguio echoes the sentiment. The Beast has the type of presence that brings out the best in his teammates and the worst in his opponents, and if given a choice, one would rather not be on the wrong side of his tenacity. “Maganda nga naging kakampi namin. Kasi kung kalaban namin, sakit sa ulo siguro. Maiinis ka e.”

Despite his uncanny affinity for loose balls in the hard court, Calvin Abueva was not born with a basketball in his hands. Growing up in Balibago, the main entertainment district of Angeles, Pampanga, his life as an athlete began with two sports disciplines which lay the foundation for his speed and hops – track and field and volleyball.

Basketball came later, when his admiration for Ginebra legend Sonny Jaworski led him to the streets and learn the game from playing with neighborhood kids. He fit right in the mold of the archetypal homegrown Filipino basketball player - someone who first played on concrete wearing only slippers as he copied the moves of his idols.

The Beast, for all his beef with Ginebra fans, ironically made a role model of the man who created the never-say-die spirit himself and embodied a similar approach to the game. “‘Yun din ‘yung nakuha ko sa kanya, na oy, makikipagpatayan pala ‘to [para] sa team niya,” he says of Jaworski.

Abueva played street basketball as a teenager, traveling all over Pampanga with other players who spotted his potential when they fought against him in an inter-barangay tournament. As a basketball mercenary of sorts, he honed his game by playing in unfamiliar places and facing strangers whose styles he did not know. Street basketball, in essence, is similar to a warzone – the sharper your instincts, the higher the chances of your survival. Abueva was more than just a survivor.

Abueva’s peculiar feel for the game later caught the attention of then-Lubao Mayor Dennis Pineda, who runs his own basketball camp in Pampanga and recruits players all over Pampanga. After playing in commercial leagues, Abueva was later sent to San Sebastian College, where he wreaked havoc in the National Collegiate Athletic Association (NCAA).

“Start palang kami ng rookie year namin, ang daming nakakapuna sa kanya. Napapansin na siya ng mga coach, mga team,” says teammate Ronald Pascual, who was part of the formidable “Pinatubo Trio” along with Abueva and Ian Sangalang.

Abueva’s game was unlike anybody has seen before. In his last year with the Stags, he set a record as the first player in history to top any of the major Philippine leagues in points, rebounds, and assists in a single season.

The Beast also showed a temperamental side while playing for the Stags. In his final year, he would have repeated as the Most Valuable Player if not for the disqualifying foul he committed against Vence Laude of the Lyceum Pirates. He was dropped from the MVP race due to the incident, and frustrated with himself, Abueva took out his anger in the locker room of the San Juan Arena and broke the glass door with his fist.

When he entered the PBA, Abueva carried with him the reputation he built for himself in college. And true to his feral nickname, he seemed hard to approach even for the league’s seasoned veterans.

“First impression ko sa kanya, akala ko mayabang. Kasi ‘di ba pag nakita mo siya sa college pa lang, alam mo ‘yun, sobrang angas nung batang ‘yun e,” says Baguio, Alaska’s top gun when Abueva was drafted second overall in 2012. “Pero nung nasa team naman namin siya, mabait naman pala.”

Inside the court, Abueva is a performer acutely aware of his audience – he often engages the crowd in big moments and makes faces at the camera whenever it finds him. But off the court, he shies away from the limelight – suddenly bolting away at the sight of a television crew, cutting media interviews short with “thank you!” and a boyish grin, and brisk-walking out of the stadium when a reporter does caught up with him.

In the gym, when there is no one watching the team run their sets, drills, and scrimmages behind closed doors, Abueva remains just as intense. Abueva does not know how to cut corners, a work ethic he has shown ever since he stepped inside the Reyes Gym in Mandaluyong City to attend his first Alaska practice.

Not that it was always easy to tame Abueva's wild side.

“At first parang may sariling mundo si Calvin,” recalls teammate Dondon Hontiveros. “Playing on instinct talaga. Pumupunta sa bola, parang ganun. So kami we were just being patient, tinuturuan lang siya.”

Hate is a strong word, but hate, by no means, is the opposite of love. Love and hate are but two sides of the same coin, and Calvin Abueva often enjoys the stroll through that thin line.

“Sa mga tao kasi, hindi lang nila nakikita ‘yung mga maliliit na bagay, mga konting detalye,” he says. “Hindi lang ‘yung malaking [play] na, ‘uy nakashoot ka, o magaling na ‘yan!’ Hindi ‘yun e. Kung naka-shoot ka, naka-shoot ka. Pero opensa ka lang ng opensa, wala rin.” It doesn’t always have to be pretty for The Beast – as long as he does his job on the court, he couldn’t be bothered what other people think of him.

But for Gilas Pilipinas coach Tab Baldwin, Abueva has deliberately made himself misunderstood. “He doesn't wanna be a player that other players can be comfortable with, that people can understand him. He likes the unpredictability of his nature and what that introduces into the game,” Baldwin offers as explanation on Abueva’s psyche.

If there is an opponent who gets the hang of how Abueva’s brain works, that would be Marc Pingris. He once refused The Beast’s helping hand when he fell to the floor in a heated game between Star and Alaska, but Pinoy Sakuragi says he sometimes sees himself in the younger forward. “Alam kong marami ding player na naaasar sa akin. Pero wala naman sa ‘kin, laro lang naman e. Ganun din si Calvin,” he says. “Alam mo naman kami galing kami sa hirap. Para sa kanya gagawin talaga niya ‘yung trabaho niya kasi ito ‘yung hanapbuhay namin e.”

For his teammates, one could only truly appreciate Calvin Abueva when you are standing on the same side. And when he wore the country’s colors last year, all Filipino basketball fans experienced what it is like to have The Beast as their selfless ally. Everyone cheered as Abueva fought against seven-foot giants just to get a rebound, drew Hamed Haddadi’s last two fouls in the crucial game against Iran, and fearlessly absorbed all the ire in enemy territory when he fouled out against China in the FIBA Asia final.

“If you're against him, you really get pikon with him 'cause he's so good,” says former Alaska head coach Luigi Trillo. “He does certain things that get you to lose focus. But if you're on his side, you're also a big fan because he has a very big heart.”

Abueva gave up his entire off-season in 2015 to serve the flag. Right after the PBA season, he led Manila North to a runner-up finish in the FIBA 3X3 Manila Masters and earned a ticket to the World Tour Final. Just a day later, without even taking the time off to rest, he reported to Gilas Pilipinas practice as a late addition to the training pool when several players declined to take their slot.

“Naalala ko na sobrang tuwa [ni coach Tab] nung nakita niya si Calvin. Na gusto niya sana ganun ‘yung mga players lahat, na kahit pagod they would go out of their way to really bring the energy sa practice,” Hontiveros, the Gilas Pilipinas team captain, remembers.

Off the court, Abueva almost comes across as child-like.

“Parang bata kasi si Calvin e,” Baguio says. “Sobrang kulit. Ang ingay-ingay ‘kala mo nakailang kape, nakakain ng tsokolate. Basta, hindi siya mapakali. Lakad ng lakad. Sigaw ng sigaw. Nangungulit sa bawat players.”

It was this goofy personality that showed a week after Abueva’s image was defaced following that Ginebra game in June. Alaska was on the verge of sweeping the Grand Slam champions Star Hotshots in the Governors’ Cup semifinals, and Abueva, in his joy, could not help but do a victory dance in front of the Aces bench during a timeout.

Alaska point guard RJ Jazul laughed at his antics, but like a dutiful teammate, he whipped Abueva’s behind with a towel in an attempt to curb The Beast’s early celebration. But he wouldn’t stop, and it took a hug from a smiling Hontiveros to get him back into game focus. It was a side of Abueva that he has allowed to slip out more this season, just before winning his first Best Player of the Conference award – famously gyrating his hips in Davao after making a tough basket in an out of town game, and again pulling out a dance move after scoring against Meralco in Game Five of their semifinals.

At the end of the day, this is also the Calvin Abueva who became the Pambansang Beast in the William Jones Cup and the FIBA Asia Championship. This is the Abueva who played eight games in eight days in Taipei without a word of complaint, the same beast who literally played non-stop basketball in 2015. This is the same Gilas Pilipinas forward who treated the silver medals he won like a long-awaited Christmas gift from Santa Claus himself, proudly showing them off as he animatedly posed for countless pictures with the team.

“If I’m gonna be true to my word and everything that I do with Gilas, character is an important facet of being selected in [the national team],” Baldwin says. “And in spite of things that you read or things that you might hear about Calvin, we never had a character question from day one.”

Calvin Abueva has taken it upon himself to lead the Gilas Pilipinas battle cry. He says it is a task that he is always excited to perform, as though he is carving himself a place among the circle of brave warriors who gallantly fight to bring honor to the beloved motherland. “Pag once na sinigaw mo ‘yun,” he says, “talagang buo e, parang ilalabas mo talaga siya. Kaya ‘yun, talagang napapakilig rin ako sa mga ganun.”

And so at the end of each practice, with the whole team huddled at center court after saying a prayer, his booming voice could be heard echoing in the gym: “Laban Pilipinas!”

And everybody would respond: “Puso!”

—with Jessica Bartolome and Jannielyn Ann Bigtas/JST/RSJ, GMA News