LOS ANGELES, California – Wrapping up a series of interviews for a fast-approaching documentary has been a fulfilling, healing trip for this writer. I have silently admired the people we interviewed, and despite the long drives, late nights and challenges of long-distance coordination, things went smoothly. It was great to see people in person for the first time in 10, 20, even 30 years. I’ve made a promise that it won’t happen again, that I will definitely keep in touch. These men are the heroes of millions of Filipinos, and I am privileged to call them friend.
Our first stop upon landing in San Francisco was Sacramento. It was the day the Los Angeles Clippers sale was announced here, so it was front-page news in local and regional newspapers and business periodicals. We arrived early evening, but took an hour to get our luggage and almost two hours to rent a car. Apparently, none of us had any credit cards, and it took a merciful manager to let these weary Filipino travelers have a mini-van. We got to our hotel at nearly 3 a.m. after 12 hours of flying and almost six of working everything else out and driving.
The next morning, we made our way to Fern Bacon Middle School where, for the last three years, Sean Chambers has been part of a small group of concerned Sacramento natives working to turn around what was once the lowest-performing school in all of California. They have done a tremendous job, and are very close to getting additional funding and other rewards from the state. Sean was, of course, Alaska’s resident import in the 1990’s, the bridge between the original Alaska squad and the Grand Slam team of Johnny Abarrientos, Jojo Lastimosa and Bong Hawkins.
I am always happy to see Sean. He is always cheerful, always caring, and always welcoming. From his stories, I remembered an era when basketball was systematic, efficient and selfless. Sean brought out a lot lf his memorabilia, too, including six of his championship rings. Most of all, Sean was even in tears a couple of times reminiscing about all the people who have meant something to him from his time in the PBA. He longs to coach a college team in the Philippines if he could, as he loves seeing young people get better and improve their lives. There isn’t a mean bone in the body of Sean Chambers. He is all about hard work and winning honorably.
Our next stop was the home of Francis Arnaiz, who is always a joy to watch. He is as interested in the Philippines as he is interesting. My conversation with him revolved around his pure joy in playing the game, and how this distracted him from his studies after a successful run in the NCAA with the legendary Fr. Edgar Martin at Ateneo de Manila. Francis had just pure love for playing, from his time with Toyota, to the transition to what eventually evolved in Barangay Ginebra. But he stressed that there is life after basketball, and he has had a full career in government service in California, and is headed into a well-deserved retirement in December. After that, Mr. Clutch will travel the world, crossing places off his bucket list as efficiently as he hit all those jump shots and towering lay-ups a generation ago.
From Sacramento, we made the long drive to Los Angeles and set up camp in a rented house, where we prayed that all the PBA personalities from the past we contacted would indeed show up, as promised. Alas, as is the case with life in the US, it was not to be. Half of those who had confirmed were either not allowed by their bosses to take off from work, or were held back by family matters. C’est la vie.
The first person to walk through our door was Vince de Guzman, aka Vince St. Price, the former disc jockey and public address announcer/game master for the PBA through the 1990’s. It was delightful to hear Vince’s behind-the-scenes stories and his calls of great players like Samboy Lim and Johnny A again. When I asked him what the PBA meant to the Filipino people, he said it was a staple, like rice. That was priceless. Vince saw how important this project was, and actually drove six hours from San Francisco to LA to be part of this project. For that, I am grateful.
Next came Abe King, who was very entertaining and concerned about the personal direction players set for themselves in life. Abe was a young power forward who joined the PBA in its second season, and was an important defender and rebounder for many winning teams of Toyota, Great Taste and Purefoods. Abe, a registered Native American (Cherokee) here, showed me the scars from four surgeries on his nose, and the stitches from when he broke his hand during a PBA game. Abe had collided with a driving Sean Chambers, and didn’t like the call, so he punched the goal support thinking there was still padding behind it. His fist hit solid steel, and it shattered several bones.
“During our time, people loved to watch PBA games because they got basketball, boxing and wrestling,†he laughed. “It was three-in-one!â€
When Rudy Distrito got into trouble with the law here, Abe established the PBA Legends Foundation, a charitable group designed to support PBA players who had fallen on hard times. They also send humanitarian aid and education support to typhoon-struck areas in the Philippines.
Next came Naning Valenciano, who was a wide-eyed youth from the Visayas when he was recruited to play for De La Salle and the national team by Amb. Danding Cojuangco during his time. Naning was humble, thoughtful, insightful and wise. He espoused the value of hard work and making the best of opportunities given to you. Since ending his playing career, Naning has taken on a variety of jobs here, after his children said they preferred to stay in the US.
But perhaps what I was most grateful for was the opportunity to reconnect with cousins in California. This was the most healing part of the journey, to see family members of my generation again after 18 years, and even to me their children for the first time. I also met with aunts who knew my mother in the years before she had me, and I cried after hearing stories she had never shared with me. It filled in a void in my life, and I want more.
These are the priceless, indelible memories that this job has blessed me with, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Best job in the world.
In an upcoming column, my one-on-one interview with Ricardo Brown.