The Final Score: Jayson Castro’s impressive 50/50 game

Thirty minutes before Game 2 of the PBA Commissioner’s Cup Finals, I saw Jayson Castro outside the Talk ‘N Text dugout.   Back in Game 1, Castro played for 18 minutes, made just two field goals and sank just one free throw. During practice on the eve of Game 2, he only participated in shooting drills.   His left ankle was a problem in Game 1. It has been a problem for months. If Castro misses games because of it, Talk ‘N Text could have a problem with no easy solutions.   I had to ask, “Jayson, maglalaro ka?”   I confess. Halfway through the fourth quarter of Game 2, I was already semi-composing a James Yap article in my head. He was having a seminal moment in an otherwise average season.   Before the game, Yap said he didn’t care if he couldn’t score 20-plus points so long as B-MEG won. During the game, despite the constant harassment of Kelly Williams and Ryan Reyes, James played like the old James. PJ Simon a.k.a. Robin ruled Game 1. Batman made sure he owned Game 2.  

In my mind, a James Yap 500-word column was halfway finished. He deserved one.   But the man who looks perpetually troubled, who has learned to mask his happiness and his worries and who can make hard-court triumph simultaneously feel like a Joyful Mystery and a Sorrowful Mystery cut me off. It was as if Jayson Castro nudged me to reconsider.   Erase. Erase.   A fan once commented on Twitter that Talk ‘N Text players win like robots. I doubt that the fan was giving a compliment.   Robots do not bleed. They do not worry over family members battling illness. They do not mourn. They do not feel that sting when elbowed in the face. They do not feel challenged when their skills are questioned.   They do not play through pain the way Jayson did in Game 2.   Machines certainly don’t take your breath away when they hit a three-point shot to push their team ahead by one with only 35 seconds left. Castro’s performance in Game 2 is another reminder that he’ll be the league MVP someday. It will happen, even with messed up ankles, even if he celebrates huge three-point shots by not celebrating at all.   Outside Castro’s dugout, moments before tip-off, I asked again, “Makakalaro ka?”   Jayson paused. He pursed his lips. Then, he lifted his right hand, palm down, and slowly shook it. It was the universal code for 50/50. Or the local code for hindi sure. Or bahala na.   He wore a half-grimace and flashed a half-smile. It was so typical of Castro to respond that way. Like he’s willingly exposing his frailty. Like he’s already apologizing for what might incredibly happen.   If I play and stink up the place with 2 points, pasensya na.   If I enter the game and somehow dominate with 23 points, 5 rebounds and 5 assists off the bench, on a bad ankle that needs repair, eh sorry na lang din. - GMA News