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The Final Score: The unconventional basketball life of Big Mac Andaya


Mark Andaya during his last stint in the PBA with the Air21 Express. Jeff Venancio



When Mark “Big Mac” Andaya is alone, he reflects on a lot of things. Life. Love. Family. The past. The present. The future. I guess you could say he’s a thinker, like pondering for him is a hobby. I can relate. I ponder on many things too.

When Mark spends a breezy night in Singapore pondering on a variety of topics, I appreciate what he’s trying to accomplish. One can reflect by just thinking. No one has to know. Or, like Mark, one can reflect by thinking aloud. Thank God for Twitter. And so during the evening of February 21, 2014, he pondered like he always does but tweeted like he never tweeted before.
 

Maybe you remember Big Mac from his days in Letran. Maybe you remember him from the PBL. Maybe you remember him from his days in the PBA. Maybe you remember him from the ABL. Or maybe you don’t remember him at all. 6’9” dude. Sometimes his hair was brown. Sometimes it wasn’t. But he always sported some trendy hairstyle. He smiled, a lot. He was a crowd-favorite for varying reasons. He always had (and we’ll get to this later) a showbiz side. He would occasionally attempt the “kilikili shot” during games. Thus, during a PBA broadcast I once said he had a little Marlou Aquino in him.

If you looked hard enough, you found charisma.

If you searched intently enough, you discovered potential.

But for majority of fans, he was simply the big guy with the big smile who didn’t score enough points, didn’t play enough minutes, and didn’t last in the PBA as long as he would have wanted. Maybe that’s the guy you remember.
 
 
 

Why is Big Mac playing basketball in Singapore competing with players like Chi Fai and Ban Sin? Why isn’t he in the PBA competing against fellow-mammoths like Greg Slaughter and June Mar Fajardo? The last time he played in the PBA was in 2013 for Air 21. Why won’t any of the ten teams sign him today? Is it because he’s 33? Didn’t he work hard enough during his seven years as a pro? Did he already have the pro career he was meant to have? Or is it just one of those things? Breaks of the game. Luck of the draw. Kung para sa’yo, para sa’yo. No comprehensive explanation needed. Eh ganun talaga eh. That’s life.

“I’m not giving up the dream of going back to the PBA pero the reality is I’m not there,” Mark, who also played for Talk ‘N Text, Rain or Shine and Barako Bull in the PBA, says. “Pag naglalaro ako sa ligang labas, walang problema sa akin. Makapal mukha ko eh. Kung eto binigay sa akin ni Lord na hanggang dito lang ako, na ganito lang ako, na sa ligang labas ako, okay lang ako na naglalaro ako doon kasi yun ang fate ko.”

What’s the difference between playing in the PBA and playing in year-round-nationwide-we-go-wherever-we-need-to-go-because-we-play-wherever-there-is-pay games? What differentiates the life of a pro and the life of a ligang-labas pro?

It’s a Saturday night in October. Over 2,000 spectators pack the Marikina Sports Complex like it’s Game 7 of the PBA Finals. But it’s not the PBA Finals. It’s the 3rd DELeague Kap Rudy Francisco Cup. Pay the ten peso entrance fee to watch Mark playing with or against Eric Dela Cuesta, Ismael Junio, Cesar Catli, Reil Cervantes, Kiko Adriano, Jeff Sanders, some Cameroonians, ex-college players, ligang-labas stars, inter-barangay legends, aspiring Fil-American cagers, and former Rain or Shine import Jamelle Cornley. (I’m not kidding – former PBA Best Import Jamelle Cornley.)

The place is so jam-packed I’m lucky to find a spot behind one of the goals. I look around to take in the view. One team is named Kobe Bihon. San Beda’s Anthony and David Semerad are watching the double-header from courtside seats. A guy in a fedora sits tight in the upper box section. Two girls, who are around 6-7 years old, run along the narrow aisle. Teenage couples hold hands. Senior citizens are in the crowd. For every spectator who watches the games in pantulog sando and slippers, there is a spectator who arrives in pang-gimik shirt, skinny jeans and skateboarding sneakers. I’m also nearly blinded by the fluorescent yellow uniforms of one team. Nakakasilaw talaga. I’m sure these uniforms would be banned in the PBA and NBA.

In this kind of game, coliseum announcers still use the archaic term, “Last two minutes! Last two minutes!” I still love hearing those lines as they explode from the loudspeakers.

In this kind of game, Cornley is in full-on playground mode. He’s firing no-look full-court passes. He’s doing ten jab steps before taking the shot. He’s delivering bounce passes between opponents’ legs. He is trotting down the court, in his Jordan 12s, with the bravado of an NBA All-Star. In one fast break play, he chases an opponent who is going for the lay-up. He sprints hard, almost catches up with the guy. But instead of going for a dramatic chase-down block, Cornley hits the breaks. The opponent misses the easy lay-up anyway, out of fear.

In this kind of game, Mark is a highly recognizable figure. Spectators know him. It’s impossible to miss a 6’9” ex-NCAA, ex-PBL, ex-PBA player. Someone in the crowd mutters, “Ah si Andaya yan. Yung sa Rain or Shine dati.” Unlike Cornley, however, Mark is hardly on full-on playground mode. Mark is often on I-want-to-go-back-to-the-PBA mode. Score points down low. Block shots. Grab rebounds like a 6’9” ex-PBA player should.

“Wala akong dapat ikahiya,” Mark, who has played in over 40 ligang-labas tournaments all over the country in the last three years, says. “So dahil PBA ako dati, kailangan ko pakita na professional ako.”

“Eh di may target ka lagi on your forehead kasi ex-PBA ka?” I ask.

“Marami akong bugbog diyan,” he replies, laughing. “Mga criminal fouls. Lalo na ‘pag naglalaro kami sa Cebu. Alam mo yung le-lay-up ka na lang, tatamaan ka pa rin. Whoever you are. Mga undercut. Lalabasan ka ng paa. And the referee won’t care. He won’t care. Pero yung akin, mas naging tough ako dahil sa mga experiences na ganyan.”
 

By now, you’re probably asking, “Why isn’t Mark Andaya in the PBA now?” In the age of Slaughter and Fajardo plus the renaissance of Asi Taulava, surely there must be a need for players who can match up with their size.

“We always wonder about that,” Ramsey Williams, who estimates playing in hundreds of ligang-labas games alongside Mark, shares. “I think it’s because they’ve seen him before when he was in the PBA and I guess sometimes they forget that players can improve. They don’t see the player that he is now. They just see the things that he did when he was in the league. That’s what I’m thinking.”

It wouldn’t hurt to compare Mark with someone like, say, Samigue Eman of the Alaska Aces. Andaya is 33. Eman is 32. They both stand 6’9”. Eman’s career averages: 2.4 ppg 2.4 rpg. Andaya’s averages by 2011: 2.3 ppg 1.8 rpg. But in professional basketball, differences are often more crucial than similarities. There is this striking, unavoidable difference between Eman and Andaya. Eman is in the PBA. Andaya is not.

“I see what Mac can do when we play in the outside leagues and I think he can do that same thing if he plays for a PBA team,” Rob Wainright, who has developed a close relationship with Mark after playing together in the PBA and ligang-labas games, says. “He may not be a Fajardo or a Slaughter but he can go out there and contribute to a team given the proper chance. I honestly think he can go back if he gets to go to a proper team and a proper chance. He’s not going to go out there and post people up and make spectacular moves. He knows he’s a big guy. His job is defense and rebounds. And he knows that now.”

 
 
 

Mark Anthony Gozar Andaya is the youngest child of Primitivo Poblete Andaya, a businessman from Calapan, Mindoro, and Ma. Corona Gozar, a professor who taught Spanish in Adamson University. You could say Mark was destined to play team sports. He has eight siblings – four older sisters and four older brothers. So bata pa lang siya, he had to learn how to play on a big team. Mark’s father, however, passed away when Mark was just two years old. So it was Ma. Corona – Mark calls her Mama – who acted as the family’s head coach during Mark’s growing years.

“Si Mama yung aming foundation,” Mark, who naturally became the baby of the family, says.

Mark and his siblings grew up in a modest house in Manila. “Pag may dumapo na kalapati sa bubong, gigiba yun!” he swears. “Hindi nga namin alam papano kami nagkasya doon.” The family has since moved to a three-floor condominium near the College of St. Benilde. There’s a great view of the cutting-edge CSB School of Design and Arts complex from their balcony. The condominium is located a few blocks away from the old house which they still own. While Mark and his sisters Teri, Nonette and Anna are more comfortable now in a more spacious residence, childhood memories, especially memories involving Mama and Mark, will forever be attached to the old house along Taal St.

“When he was growing up kasi, he was always in the kalye and then my mom would freak out every lunch time and dinner time because he’s always out and talagang mahirap siyang hanapin because he plays basketball at every kanto,” Teri, 46, the eldest of the Andaya siblings, recalls. “He was already super tall when he was young. Tapos yung slippers niya pudpod na pudpod na sa kakalaro ng basketball. So my Mom has to go out of the house and look for him at every corner where kids were playing basketball and she’ll find Mark and shout, ‘Mark halika na! Come home!’”

Like I said, Mark was the baby of the family. Ate Teri watched over Mark when Mama was away. Ate Anna, second to the youngest, would come to his defense – his resbak - if he had enemies in school. They congratulated him when he became editor of the school newspaper at the Rafael Palma Elementary School. They watched his performances as he played the banduria. Whatever event or milestone, the Mark Andaya pep squad was always in attendance. Mama, of course, was always the head cheerleader.

“My mom was in the hospital then when he was in college and she was in bad shape already but my mom treated him like a baby all throughout,” Teri shares. “Mama was in her deathbed and all and she would still ask, ‘Where’s Mark? Has he had dinner?’”

Ma. Corazon Gozar Andaya died in 2002 from complications caused by lupus. Mark says, “It was the worst ever time of our lives.” Since she was a basketball fan (Papa and Mama were die-hard Toyota fans and named Mark’s older brother Robert Francis after Robert Jaworski and Francis Arnaiz), Mama was beyond thrilled to see her beloved bunso Mark play basketball. It was her dream to watch him play big games before big crowds.

Yet even after his Mama passed away, Mark always felt she was there, always reminding him to count his blessings no matter what, always cheering behind the bench. In one game for Letran, he remembers scoring over 20 points and grabbing over 10 rebounds. As soon as he returned to the dorm, he started to cry. He was a mountain of a young man and he was sobbing like a helpless six-year old boy. He grabbed his phone and called the house. Teri answered. She asked Mark why his voice was cracking. Mark said, “Naalala ko si Mama.”

Mark’s bedroom in their three-story building is a bachelor’s bedroom. His cabinet contains a tall, unruly pile of basketball shirts and shorts. A group photo of the 2006 PBA Rookie Draft class rests on top of his TV. Sneakers are lined up against the wall. He shows me his acoustic guitar. But his black, compact, carry-on Samsonite suitcase, placed near the TV, catches my attention.

“Siguro gamit na gamit na yan no?” I ask.

“Kaya nandiyan yan [pointing to the suitcase] para anytime, mag-pa-pack na lang ago, ready to go.” Mark replies.

He’s ready to go.

He’s always on the go.

Following Mark’s Instagram account is like following a travel show on the Travel and Living Channel. In one post, he’s in General Santos City playing basketball with Manny Pacquiao. In another post, he’s in Davao City to play exhibition games during the annual Kadayawan Festival. Life on the road has brought him to both popular and remote locations all over Luzon, Visayas and Mindanao. He says if not for the ligang-labas experience, he would never have seen places like Macrohon in Southern Leyte, Rosario in Agusan del Sur or the municipality of Maoab in Davao City.

A pro’s life is not just the life we see in the PBA. A pro’s life can take a player to games in Marikina today, then to games in Malaysia tomorrow. Whereas a PBA career can easily slide into a series of routines, Mark’s life is hardly predictable. His version of the pro life, believe it or not, has carried him all the way to the silver screen.
 
 


In 2013, Mark appeared in the critically-acclaimed film On The Job, directed by Erik Matti starring Gerald Anderson, Piolo Pascual, Shaina Magdayao, Angel Aquino, Joel Torre, Michael de Mesa, Rayver Cruz, William Martinez and another former PBA player turned actor, Joey Marquez.

As it turned out, Mark got the first call to do OTJ the day after he played his last PBA game for Air21.

In the film, prison inmates Gerald (aspiring hitman Daniel Benitez) and Mark (prison bully Simeon) engaged in a fight to the death. And you guessed it: Gerald’s character lived. Siyempre. Give Mark some credit as a thespian, though. Unlike most local cinematic behemoths, he wasn’t in the movie for comic relief. He was in there seriously trying to kill someone. Much to the relief of Gerald Anderson’s fans, the gigantic tormenter was the one who ended up getting killed.
 
The movie poster of "OTJ"
“Mama would always say that Mark is an extraordinary boy,” Teri remembers. “But it’s true, it’s true. When he was growing up, nagugulat na lang kami na he would be part of the rondalla or nagugulat na lang kami he’ll suddenly get an award for painting or on-the-spot drawing contests.”

Rondalla?

Painting?

On-the-spot drawing?

Tama nga. He has the ability to surprise.

Clearly, Mark follows an unconventional path but his journey equates mostly with a basketball life. It’s an existence carried through road trips, sea voyages, and plane rides accompanied by the soundtrack of bouncing basketballs. It’s the type of kinesis that connects itinerant ballers like Mark, Ramsey and Rob. It connects them so deeply they end up looking out for one another like brothers.

“It’s fun because we just go out there and we play hard but we also get to know each other and Mac’s a good person,” Ramsey says. “He’s not just a player but he’s actually a good-hearted person. That’s why I enjoy being with him. We always stay together in the same room and everything like that.”

“What makes Mac a fun companion on the road?” I ask.

“He’s an easy guy to talk to,” Ramsey answers. “We always have good conversations because he’s intelligent, actually. He’s a deep, deep person. When you see him, you may not think it but when you talk to him, he’s really a smart person. He’s always thinking of the next step.”

What’s the next step for Big Mac? Who knows? And I say this with genuine fascination. When I first interviewed him last September, I planned on writing the article just a few days after. Due to other concerns, days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. Inabot na ako ng Christmas and New Year! From 2013, it’s now 2014. I kept procrastinating and I’m actually glad that I did. While I waited for the opportune time to write this piece, Mark was able to do the following:

A. He ran for Barangay Captain in October. He wanted to help their community, an area covering two streets with 400 registered voters. Supporters wore shirts that featured the words Andaya Knows BRGY 748. He was part of Team TPI – True Public Service Individuals. During campaign sorties, he always walked with a crowd, becoming a singular, towering figure in an orange shirt. He lost but he posted this message on his Facebook page:

After this funfilled election week... with a very happy heart that I have after tremendous legit votes I received from my beloved neighbors. Vacation muna ako sa Bohol and Cebu next week and also participate in some charity events to be led by some Parish priests friends of ours there for the poor victims of the recent earthquake! God is good!

B. He started helping his family run their purified and alkaline water outlet – Blue Dragon Purified Drinking Water. If you live near the corner of Pablo Ocampo St. and Taal St. in Vito Cruz, call 521-7788 for delivery. Mark might actually deliver the water himself.

C. He officially signed a 10-year movie contract with Star Factor, Inc.

“He’s just a good guy,” Rob, who looks at Mark like a younger brother, explains. “He gets a lot of flak for, you know, the way he talks (Mark has a cleft palate defined as a congenital split in the roof of the mouth which affects his enunciation whenever he talks), the way he looks. I’m sure he’s had to deal with this since he was younger like people making fun of his voice and what not. But despite all of that, he still wakes up every morning with the most positive and sunny disposition ever. He’s not afraid to approach anyone. He’s always out looking for ways to help other people despite all that. None of that stops him from doing what he wants. At the end of the day, the guy is still the nicest guy in the world. You can’t do anything but respect that.”

 

Where will Mark’s travels bring him next? He’ll likely go to General Santos City with Ramsey as soon as Pacquiao returns from the US. Anyway, his compact, carry-on luggage is ready whenever he needs it. And Rob is prepared to offer advice whenever Mark asks for it.

In the meantime, he’s working out, lifting weights, staying in shape, ready for whatever bullet pass life might give. Maybe it’s a second movie after On The Job. Maybe in his second film, he’ll actually live until the final credits. Maybe it’s another basketball trip abroad: Asia, the Middle East, wherever the trip takes him. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s another chance to prove that he still belongs in the PBA. Can he guard Slaughter? Can he contain Fajardo? I want to see if he can. I wonder if there’s a PBA head coach, current or incoming, who might wish to see that too.

Recently, Mark asked me through a text message, “Wow! 3 new teams next season sa PBA? Totoo ba? Official na Sir Mico? That’s very good news for all of us displaced…”

I answered, “Yup. This could be your chance Mark.”

“Hopefully,” he replied. “But kahit anong mangyari masaya na naman ako now. Thank you sir.”  - AMD, GMA News
 
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