AFTER the Alaska Aces play out their remaining days in the Philippine Basketball Association (PBA), the amazing franchise that achieved a Grand Slam just 10 years into its league membership, will be no more.
Its illustrious existence that spanned three decades will be just a memory for those who witnessed the team’s campaigns. For those who will come later, the Aces—who debuted as the Alaska Milkmen in 1986, became the Hills Brothers Coffee Kings in 1987, gained altitude as the Alaska Air Force in the 1990s and morphed into the Alaska Milk Kings at one time before settling down as the Alaska Aces—will just be an exciting page in the PBA history book.
But they can’t totally fathom why.
Whether you rooted for the Aces or not, to know them is to love them. Alaska introduced a different brand of competitiveness to the game. They played by the rules, practiced enviable discipline and relied on science and precision to solve the challenges of the game.
For a while there, pundits and spectators described Alaska as not very exciting to watch because they played with more method than madness. Compared to other PBA teams that would do virtual backflips, kamikaze runs and crowd pleasing moves and, yeah, Alaska would seem to be a coldhearted war machine just looking to fulfill its mission.
But hey, it’s beautiful too when you can destroy opponents with logic even better than passion.
The Triangle Offense and The Swarming Defense. You associated those terms first with Alaska. Okay, the TO was really first made famous by Phil Jackson who used it heavily on his Chicago Bulls of the 1990s and his Los Angeles Lakers of the 2000s. It was in fact invented by Hall-of-Fame coach Sam Berry, however, and simply developed further by Jackson and Tex Winter, another Hall of Famer. But locally, nobody did it better than Tim Cone when he was riding high on the Alaska bench. He was Mr. Triangle Offense.
Swarming defense? Alaska was the master of that, too. They suffocated the opponent’s offense and rendered them useless without committing fouls. They called it The Alaska Swarm. And you can’t do harm with that unless you live and die by discipline everyday. Putting in the hard work does have its amazing rewards.
So to call Alaska unexciting because of its deliberate and relentless method is to not appreciate the game—at least Alaska’s manner of doing things. Their way, their brand is probably the most exciting thing there is if you analyze games with the eye of a Marie Curie about to discover radium, Or if you are able to see the intricate beauty in mathematics.
Alaska did bring a distinct character and personality to PBA basketball. This team was the antithesis of go-for-broke, give-it-all-you’ve-got teams.
Thankfully, for fans who prefer not to be too analytical of the game, Alaska dazzled too. The team was able to capture fan attention—both love and hate—with engaging tandems like The Bruise Brothers. In 1987-88, two burly and rock-solid gladiators—Ricky Relosa and Elpidio “Yoyong” Villamin—closed the gates of the kingdom on all who would dare enter their sacred shaded lane. Their grunts and body banging were king. This was pre-Tim Cone era and the deliberateness and precision were not yet there. The crowd absolutely loved or detested this duo, depending on what side they cheered on.
When Alaska flew as The Alaska Air Force in the early 1990s, they were a crowd favorite too. Their young star, Jojo Lastimosa, was in the house and was a genuine crowd attraction. Not just his game, but also his then most prominent features—Jolas’s legs, strong and solid like trees—were much appreciated by fans. Paul “Mr. Excitement” Alvarez dunked, swung from the goal and did fancy stuff that often brought the house down.
Alaska would then win their first PBA title in 1991. And then go on to dominate the league like no other with 14 championships in all and a Grand Slam in 1996.
Alaska’s days are now truly numbered in the PBA. But their sweet science is forever.