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THIS is
a basketball story. At times it reads like an
inspirational story. Sometimes it reads like a story out
of the Old Testament including wrath-of-God types of
plagues that would have felled a man and a team of less
fortitude. But it’s a story of scruples, principles and
a steel-determination to rise above the challenges of
life and basketball.
Binky
Favis was a star for La Salle-Greenhills—“elementary to
high school,” he emphasizes. He was recruited to move up
to the senior circuit at Taft in 1988 and he was very
much elated. He did make the team but found himself
riding the bench—a third string back-up to Dindo Pumaren
and Teddy Monasterio. He didn’t mind thinking he’d
eventually get his minutes. Only they never came. Not
even another spot on a team that was ready to dominate
after their archrivals from Loyola Heights began to
crumble.
In his
sophomore year, he found himself without a spot in the
lineup. Even worse, a missing scholarship. Hurt and
disconsolate, it took him only a day to feel bad about
getting cut before he packed his belongings and took
that short ride from Taft to España to transfer to the
University of Santo Tomas.
“It was
hard at first facing my alma mater,” said Favis of that
big move. “I could have stayed in La Salle without a
scholarship, but my passion for the game and my desire
to achieve wouldn’t let me stay put. I could have
sulked, but that is not in my nature. I told myself that
it was a challenge to hurdle.”
He
joined a Glowing Goldies team that then-coach Aric del
Rosario was slowly building into a contender. Only they
ran into some stiff competition from the University of
the East that had Bong Ravena and Jolly Escobar, Far
Eastern University with Vic Pablo and Johnny Abarrientos,
and La Salle with Jun Limpot and the Lago brothers.
By the
time he hung up his sneakers, his former teammates
blitzed the league with an undefeated season that saw
them bag their first title in ages (it was the start of
the school’s mythical four-peat). Binky heard the
good-natured jokes all right. “Hinintay ka naming mag-graduate
bago mag-champion,” joked some.
“No.
Hinintay niyo lang akong mag-coach sa inyo para
turuan kayo kung paano manalo,” was his magnificent
comeback.
Coaching. It never crossed his mind. He wasn’t even that
rabid a fan of the game off the court. Sure he rooted
for Crispa and would watch the odd pro game if he ever
caught it on television, but if he wasn’t hitting the
books, he was in the gym. Dribbling. Shooting. Working
out. Pushing himself to get better.
After
Binky’s last playing day, a professor whom he owed some
school work to asked if he could coach the
College
of Science team during intramurals (Favis took up BS
Math major in Computer Science). Since he “owed” the
prof, he reluctantly agreed. “I went in there and didn’t
expect much,” recalled Binky of those halcyon days.
“With all due respect to the students from the College
of Science, these were the studious types. ‘Yung nerds.
They would rather study than practice.”
“I
thought that after a couple of practices it would be
enough, but a few days before the start of the
intramurals, my professor reminded me of the game. I
agreed to attend only if he would be there as well.”
To
Favis’s surprise, his team, his “nerdy students” were
running everything he taught them during those few
practice sessions. “Aba, okay ‘to ha,” he thought to
himself. His team won that first game. And the next. And
the next until they were in the finals against the team
from the College of Commerce which had in its fold some
of UST”s Team B players. But the College of Science team
won in a monumental upset.
Binky
thought none of the accomplishment or the job until a
school priest approached him and said he’d be coaching
the high-school team after their mentor passed away. He
reorganized the program by lining up undergrads and
players who would study. He predated coach Carter by
cutting players who would not attend class and pass
their subjects. “I may have cut them,” said the
uncompromising coach. “But that doesn’t mean I abandoned
them. I helped them out. Until they were ready once more
to play.” And as a sign of appreciation for his
burgeoning hoops chops and his strict adherence to
academic excellence, Binky found himself an assistant to
del Rosario during those championship years (he won a
couple while coaching the juniors team as well).
Even
after UST, he thought he’d get a real job. He played and
coached the game for the sheer love and fun of it. His
assistants on Coca-Cola, Richie Ticzon and Boybits
Victoria dreamed of a pro career even while in college.
For Favis, X and Os were not on his to-do list.
But as
fate would have it, Ron Jacobs came calling trying to
resurrect a downtrodden San Miguel franchise. From there
it was the Metropolitan Basketball Association, Letran,
Ginebra, Coca-Cola and the National Team. “Everywhere I
went there were challenges,” he said.
Gone are
those championship days with Chot Reyes, Rudy Hatfield,
Rafi Reavis and Jeffrey Cariaso at Coca-Cola. Normally a
change in team ownership would mean the players would
have to make some adjustments. Except that Favis found
himself the only constant in a team that not only
changed management and but almost its entire roster
overnight. Even the head coach was gone.
In their
place he got journeymen, stars in the twilight of their
career, untested rookies and discards from other teams.
“I prefer to call them acquisitions,” corrects the
coach. “I believe that they will become great basketball
players one day.” Only he never had the full complement
of his team. The Tigers were a team of walking wounded.
They were so banged up that they were actually fielding
their reserve players in the starting unit (like Ronjay
Buenafe). Some like RJ Rizada have had to play out of
position.
The
losses since last year have been mounting and certain
quarters have been calling for his head on a pike. And
the team has been looking for good cheer wherever they
may find it. During team practice on Friday, gunner John
Arigo hyper-extended his left arm casting doubt on his
availability for the next few games.
“You
know what they say about rain when it pours,” remarked
the coach albeit with a tinge of optimism. “This is the
greatest challenge of my coaching career. It’s
difficult, yes. But such is life with its ups and
downs.”
“I’ve
been blessed with a loving wife and a great family. The
only thing I don’t have is a PBA championship to call my
own. But I’m sure you also know what they say about
wounded tigers with their backs against the wall…” |
