Purefoods coach Ryan Gregorio probably believes in it enough to mention that his team was playing on the 3rd day of the 3rd month of the year, and 33 was coincidentally the number of Eugene Tejada, the former Purefoods forward who was paralyzed in a freak accident during a game four years ago. The players had dedicated the rest of the conference to their fallen comrade, and they won the Philippine Cup championship that year too.



Three championships for Coach Ryan. Three years of reprieve from Fire Quinito.

In his post-game address to the frenzied Araneta Coliseum crowd, James Yap dedicated the game to his late mother-in-law, former President Corazon Aquino, his number one fan who never missed any of his games before she passed away last year. During the series, his teammates joined Yap in wearing yellow armbands to dedicate the rest of the games in her honor. Over the course of the next couple of months, the whole nation will be treated to a debate about the existence or the impact of ‘Cory magic’ in the political arena. Tonight, it would seem that the magic is alive and well at the Araneta Coliseum.

I am not a faithful man; I don’t know if I believe in destiny or magic. But I know I believe in basketball, and I believe that the best team gets to lift up the trophy at the end of the tournament.

Tonight, there’s no question about it: Purefoods is the best team in the land after taking game 4 over Alaska, 86-76, to sweep the 2010 PBA Philippine Cup best-of-7 finals.

Oh, the Aces came to play tonight. At least, their main men Willie Thriller and The Boss did. Alaska may not have looked great this evening – no team that gets swept 0-4 ever does – but this is a great, well-coached team that has been excellent all conference long. It was Purefoods that made them look awful.

There was Roger Yap, the floor general who didn’t shoot well in this series, but controlled the tempo of the games. He was masterful at taking the air out of the ball to make sure that Alaska never had the opportunity to get a few easy baskets in a faster game.

There was Kerby Raymundo, the on-again, off-again superstar, the operative word being superstar. While his performance may have been up-and-down, he was still a constant matchup nightmare for Alaska; the opposing defense ALWAYS had to worry about him, as if it didn’t have enough things to worry about.

There was the sampayan brigade of Marc Pingris, Rico Maierhofer, and Rafi Reavis. Sakuragi, in particular, was an absolute joy to watch; whenever some lazy curmudgeonly asshole sportswriter and/or blogger writes about how PBA players don’t play with any passion anymore unlike the UAAP or the bygone days of fucking Crispa and fucking Toyota, please send him clips of this guy. He rebounds like he’s still playing for ice tubig in the Pangasinan summer heat. He wrestles the big guys in the paint and harasses the guards out in the perimeter, sometimes all in the same sequence. My favorite was when he’d be guarding LA Tenorio and he’d get this look in his face like, “Putangina, sige, mag-penetrate ka, papalamunin kita ng bola.” It’s a testament to Tenorio that he didn’t pee his pants, but he stayed the hell out of the paint when Pingris was on him; his only good game in the series came when he was hitting his three-pointers.

There was the firestarter duo of KG Canaleta and Peter June Simon, neither of whom were born with a conscience. Both of them may be one-dimensional, but it’s a pretty awesome dimension.

There was the rest of the bench, led by Paul Artadi, cheering and clapping and jumping and chest-bumping around, annoying the fuck out of the other team’s fans.

Finally, there was James Yap, the MVP and the face of the franchise. Everyone knows about the killer spin moves and the booming three-pointers with a hand in his face, but only true fans know about the subtle nuances in his game. How he is so patient with the offense and how he is willing to defer, even when he could take his man one-on-one every possession. How he’s murder on the passing lanes when the team is playing zone, often getting steals or tipping the ball. How much he helps out on the boards, and how he never allows any offensive rebounds despite being assigned to a bigger guy. How he’s often the voice of reason on the floor when Kerby and Roger both get too aggressive on offense. How he’s far and away the most gifted offensive player on the floor, but he’s never an asshole about it, because he knows that at the end of the game he’ll be getting that ball and burying that fucking dagger.

Of course, the coaching staff led by Ryan Gregorio put it all together. They just hit all the right buttons in this series. The game plans, the substitutions, the timeouts, the play-calling, all of these were excellent. Ryan Gregorio, much-maligned not just by me but a lot of fellow Purefoods fans, was excellent.

The result on the court was beautiful. Purefoods executed its plays, disrupted the opponent’s offense with a headhunting press, recovered on defense, crashed the offensive boards, hit dagger shots, and battered Alaska from pillar to post. The awarding of the Philippine Cup at the end of the night seemed like mere formality; Purefoods looked every bit the champion long before the final buzzer sounded.

Some would call it destiny. Some would call it magic. I would call it damn great basketball.