THE harsh truth is that sports has become a great emotional escape, a fantasy experience, like getting infatuated, especially with the games of the National Basketball Association (NBA).
From the old Manila Inter-Collegiate Athletic Association (Micaa) cage wars to the Philippine Basketball Association (PBA) games, Pinoys have loved basketball as the country’s No. 1 unchallenged national pastime.
Truth to tell, we only have three popular sports in this country. It is basketball, basketball and basketball, the rest coming on only seasonally in cameo roles, as in athletics, boxing, football, tennis and volleyball.
And for one fan that could truly be called a fanatic, our trusted municipal driver, Eusebio “Boy Baog” Yder, the current NBA Finals are the only real games, this time pitting the Cavaliers and the Warriors—both indescribably title-starved.
Basketball has become a necessity in our lives, and for Boy Baog, radio is his constant companion to constantly marvel at, even revel in, the genius of LeBron James and adore the greatness of Stephen Curry’s prolific hands.
“It’s Curry converting the tying lay-up for the Warriors. It’s another overtime!” barked Ted Francia, one of the stylish combo of commentators of Bombo Radio based in Iloilo City. We’d just left the town of Valderrama to meet the newly installed governor of Antique, Rhodora “Dodod” Cadiao, when Boy Baog turned on the radio to catch the tail-end of Game Two.
Dodod, by the way, won her own fight for the top leadership post of Antique the hard way, by an electoral protest. The Commission on Elections ousted Exequiel B. Javier from his post for breaking election laws based on charges brought up by Valderrama Mayor Joy Roquero.
Boy Baog is a dyed-in-the-wool LeBron fanatic, as rabid as anyone who sees in James not just the long-awaited messiah to end the misery of the Cavaliers’ longtime suffering city, but the king of the game itself. During our short trip to the capital town of San Jose, he was in a fired-up verbal tussle with Police Officer 1 Pompei Alotencio, who swears that this is Curry’s time to outshine the King.
“Wait until Stephen Curry waxes hot in overtime. It will be win No. 2 for Golden State again,” mumbled Alotencio, who despaired after his hero’s atrocious shooting allowed the Cavs’ agonizing rally to force overtime, 87-all.
Don Dolido, another bombastic Bombo anchor, chimed in. The Cavs could have easily won the game to level the series, he crowed, but James and his so-called grit squad squandered an 11-point lead in the final four minutes of the fourth quarter.
“Never mind,” Boy Baog interjected as if he were inside the Bombo radio booth. “James will finish the job in overtime. He will tie the series at 1-all and bring it to their home court in Cleveland.”
Alotencio loves basketball. Maybe no one in our town loves the game the same way he does. He was not strong and sharp enough to make it as a regular in the local team playing in our municipal inter-barangay basketball league. Yet, he speaks with authority about the game, about officiating, about the crowd, about the bets that changed hands.
“Nobody took my bet,” he boasted to Boy Baog. “I will double my money for the Warriors.”
I realized that I was in the middle of old-fashioned radio coverage, one that was the stuff of our childhood recollections. Like then, it was replete with drama and tension, filling the room with its incredible energy and the laughter, fun and entertainment that it brought. The Bombo Radio threesome of Ted Francia, Don Dolido and Henry Lumawag was like a trio emerging from a misty past, their voices incomparably charming, uplifting—like the songs of our youth when basketball itself was magic, and catching the crackling pace on radio was paradise in our small corner of earth.
They exuded confidence, telling the game’s story with fierce colors of summer, giving it the edge of excitement, their candor often distorting the action in an exaggerated way.
But their sense of timing was impeccable, even when they change topic and talk about their avid listeners, their lives, King James’s former ties with the Miami Heat and now, in his present incarnation, as the body and soul of the charging Cavaliers. They wove in and out of the coverage, and when they went back to the game, Curry’s free throws propelled Golden State to the lead, 29.5 seconds left in overtime.
“That’s Cury back in the thick of the fight. He will lead the Warriors to victory,” exclaimed Henry, his excitement peaking once more his obvious disappointment over the MVP’s several bungled shots that included 13 missed three-pointers.
It was now Ted and Don alternating, “Hey, that’s Matthew Dellavedova making good two free throws. It’s Cleveland back on top, 94-93, with only 10 seconds left in the game. This is going to be a cardiac finish. Uh, uh, uh.”
“My golly, bad, bad, bad,” said Alotencio, as Boy Baog unleashed a loud sustained roar as if to send all the luck to the Cavaliers toiling for their first-ever NBA Finals win in an extremely hostile Hades for the opposition, the Oracle in Oakland.
Then it was over. “There is no more time left,” Boy Baog interjected.
“It will be the Cavaliers.”
That was after James, who made one of his greatest performances in the NBA Finals with triple double—39 points, 16 rebounds and 11 assists in over 50 minutes of epic play—split his charities, and after Imam Shumpert gave the Warriors the final spit of indignity, foiling a Curry pass to a streaking Klay Thompson.
“It was a very tough, very emotional victory for the Cavaliers. Team effort did it, team discipline,” the commentators blurted in rapid succession.
“Radio is more exciting than television,” remarked the heartbroken Alotencio. And like the promise of a new day, he said, “I know the Warriors will be back to even up the series at 2-all.”
But the Cavaliers, on another virtuoso performance by James, played with big hearts to annex Game Three, 96-91, and seize a 2-1 lead. They are chasing their own history. Who could have predicted in November last year that by June 8 they would be two wins away from their first NBA title in 51 years?
All sorts of wondrous and strange comments spiced up the Bombo Radio live coverage. They were unlike us, but then again, in the brotherhood of the game, the commentators were like us: inveterate fans, desperate critics, referees and sponsors. Or the guy in the neighborhood who would bet his last peso for James or Curry.
Mayor Joy Roquero is no basketball fan, but she, too, engaged in the hot conversation, “What’s the score? Who won? What happened in the first game? Who is LeBron James?”
Those were four rapid questions in succession, unexpected from the lady mayor, who was credited for throwing out of office ex-Gov. Javier in the more insidious game of politics.
But the signal was garbled as we negotiated a zigzag ascent, the voice of the three glib tongue commentators fading out in the breeze of driving rains and flying clouds, forcing Boy Baog to turn off the radio dial.
Boy Baog has a temper, always bashing or berating the opposing team. But this time, he was cool and mild-mannered. As he savored another win, he switched to his favorite F.M. station that played RNB music all day.
“I love radio,” he mumbled.
“It’s basketball and music.”