2013 FIBA Asia Championship: After division and doubt, Gilas Pilipinas brings unity and faith

I walked out of the press room in a daze. Did that just really happen? Did Gilas Pilipinas just beat the South Koreans? Are they really going to Spain to battle against the world’s best?

My mind was having a debate with itself when I saw two familiar faces. My dad was there, my mom was too. We were all eager to tell our stories about how it happened from our vantage point. As we started to talk, our voices began to break. Spent from all the cheering, every word scratched through our throats before painfully coming out but that didn’t stop us from talking some more.

Back in in the 2002 Asian Games, it was very different for us. I also remember being in a daze but it was of the bad kind. After the game we lost to the South Koreans in Busan, it was mostly quiet. No one wanted to talk, no one wanted to listen. We kept quiet brewing with our own private pains, dealing with it the best way we know how.

[Related: Gilas vs Korea - a chance for heartbreak, a chance for redemption]

Because of the pain, we became skeptical fans. We knew we sent out a strong team and we didn’t understand why they lost. As a result, the selection of our Philippine team has always turned out to be a bloody process.

When Chot Reyes was named the head coach, some people complained. He’s too cocky, too self-aware. The rest of the team wasn’t spared from bashing. Jimmy Alapag was too old. Gary David was too unfit for the international game. Japeth Aguilar was too raw. Gabe Norwood, too soft. Marc Pingris, too volatile. Jayson Castro, too one-dimensional.

Basketball’s success is predicated on division and debate, two teams pitted against each other with only one winner. As a result, fans will always have different opinions.  Basketball thrives on friction. Los Angeles Lakers versus Boston Celtics. Purefoods versus Alaska. San Miguel versus Ginebra. Ateneo versus La Salle.

Friction spilled over to the forming of Gilas even if we knew we were all on the same team. Some people wanted Ronjay Buenafe be included instead of Larry Fonacier or Jeff Chan. Jvee Casio instead of LA Tenorio. Arwind Santos for Ranidel De Ocampo. Sonny Thoss for June Mar Fajardo.

However, during the game against South Korea something magical happened. The sadness, frustration, and the eagerness to get even brought us all together. It didn’t matter which PBA team we rooted for or which school we came from. It was nothing short of amazing that something so intrinsically divisive united us, at least for one game.

After Marcus Douthit went down, we all thought we were done for, that everything we fought for would go down the drain. We thought we’d lose to Korea and battle Chinese Taipei the next day without our naturalized player. But Castro slapped some sense into us with his opening third quarter baskets. He may have been one-dimensional, but this one dimension was all he needed against South Korea.

After a Lee Seung Jun dunk that gave Korea the lead late in the fourth quarter, we were ready to give up again. But Gilas kept giving us reasons to keep believing.

Even with a five-point lead with only seconds to go, we still felt like South Korea could engineer a comeback, because that’s what they’ve done to us all these years. So when the game finally ended it felt like a huge weight was lifted off the crowd.

This win is important for Philippine basketball as it puts us back in the upper echelons again. It’s important because we get to watch our team compete against the best in the world in Spain next year.

But in the end, basketball isn’t really winning or losing for us fans. Basketball is about moments. Moments of pain and sorrow that, in time and with some luck, turn into moments of victory and unbridled joy. Basketball isn’t about numbers. It’s about stories and feelings, and the roller-coaster of emotions we get during the game.

Moments like seeing veteran Filipino sport writers who have literally covered everything celebrate like crazy. I couldn’t help but smile as they disallowed each other from changing their positions because that might affect the game’s juju.

Moments like seeing our peers from the media hugging it out with tears welling in their eyes. Not minding that everyone else was competition, not looking for the next scoop or the next exclusive interview.

Moments like hearing the sound of 18,000 people chanting defense, urging Gilas to pull out one last stop.

These moments are the ones that stick long after we forget about the details of this magical game.

[Related: Gilas outlasts Korea, earns World Cup berth]

My parents and I walked out of the arena with smiles on our faces. We talked about Castro’s unstoppable dives and Norwood’s defense. We talked about how we thought it was impossible for us to compete without Marcus Douthit on the floor. We talked heading into the parking lot and on the way home, repeating details over and over again like we were making sure these would stick on our minds.

After Busan no one talked, still it remained in our consciousness all these years. With us sharing our stories over and over again, the memory of this win should stick with us through our lifetime.

There isn't quite enough time to reminisce about the South Korea game just yet. Instead, on Sunday, we will make new memories. This time featuring Iran. - AMD, GMA News