I’ve steadily developed a dislike for San Miguel over the past couple of years. Despite the snarky tone of this blog, this is a rare case for PBA teams; even though I’ve been rooting for the Purefoods franchise since I was a child, I consider myself a fan of the PBA. I usually watch games intently when I’m home and they’re on, whoever might be playing. I like good Pinoy basketball, and the PBA is where you’d find the best Pinoy basketball anywhere.

That said, my dislike for the Beermen has grown steadily, but it wasn’t always this way. I loved watching San Miguel even back when Hector Calma was murdering my favorite player, Dindo Pumaren, in All-Filipino championship games. Like many other Filipino basketball fans, Samboy Lim was a favorite, but I also have a fond place in my basketball memories for the Atom Bomb, Ato Agustin. I respected the way “Robocop” Alvin Teng battled Jerry Codiñera underneath the boards, and how Yves Dignadice used his long arms to keep the ball away from Alvin Patrimonio on the block. I got a kick out of watching Ron Jacobs swallow his pride and hand over his whole offense to Nelson Asaytono, who indulged every urge to jack up contested, fadeaway three-pointers. I enjoyed watching Olsen Racela develop from a bench sparkplug for Purefoods into one of the best floor generals in Philippine basketball history for San Miguel. And I always thought that “Dynamite” Danny Seigle was the evolutionary Samboy, the player who took our collective breath away every time he stepped on the court, but couldn’t stay healthy enough to do it for long stretches of time.

So why do I hate* San Miguel so much?

* - Hate is a strong word, and I don’t usually like using it. In this context, I’m referring "sports-hate"; read Bill Simmons’ column on the topic for details.

Maybe it’s their players, although I’m a fan of guys like Dondon Hontiveros, Joseph Yeo, and Arwind Santos. I’d already written about my frustrations with Jay Washington, but he’s not the only one guilty of playing without heart. The whole lineup is filled with frontrunners – guys who are so much better when they are comfortably ahead than when they’re trailing or when the game is tight. It’s no coincidence that the team is always so dominant during the elimination phase, when it could overwhelm the opposition with its talent and blow other teams out of the court. But when the playoffs start, and the other team has scouted all their plays, and the games turn into dogfights, the Beermen fold like schoolyard bullies who’ve finally met someone who’ll stand up to them. In each of their playoff losses this season against Alaska and Purefoods, they got eliminated by teams that were tougher and more aggressive than they were.

Maybe it’s the media, and the way they hype the team and its “brand names.” I am so sick of sportscasters who’d go on and on in the middle of San Miguel games about just how talented the Beermen are. Fuck it, I would tell myself, if San Miguel were so good, then why don’t we just stop playing right now and give them the championship trophy at halftime? Also, when they talk about San Miguel’s “superstar-laden lineup,” what are they talking about? Because I look at the end of their bench and see guys like Dorian Pena, Mick Pennisi, and Denok Miranda. We’re calling those guys superstars now?

Maybe it’s their annoying fans. Ok, I have a lot of friends who are San Miguel fans, and they are generally smart, even-keeled people. But there are still those annoying, delusional fans online who have these Yankee sense of entitlement just because of the history of the team they’re rooting for, the type who’d keep arguing that Dondon Hontiveros is better than James Yap. Uhm, guys, how about, no?

Look, I’m a big fan of Dondon’s game, and I love that he’s the leader on the floor for the Beermen during big games but… no. And it’s not just because I’m a Purefoods fan. Here’s what I wrote last February about the two guys’ games:

Dondon Hontiveros is a great basketball player, and in so many respects, he is much better than James Yap; he’s a better ballhandler and passer (especially on pick-and-rolls), he’s a better defender, he’s a better rebounder off loose balls (although Yap might be a better rebounder when the ball is up in the air), and he’s a more accurate shooter when open (Yap is better when shooting with a hand in the face). But Yap has one big edge, an explosive first step that allows him to get to the ring easily, and makes him impossible to defend one-on-one. Hontiveros doesn’t have that explosion, so when he tries to take his man off the dribble, more often than not, he has to take the ball back out and settle for a jumper. This makes Yap infinitely more dangerous than Hontiveros, and allows him to have a much bigger impact on a basketball game.

Maybe it’s erstwhile coach Siot Tanquingcen, who’s been taking shit from San Miguel management all this time. C’mon, Siot, grow a fucking pair! When management spits on your face and you gladly take all of it meekly, some people will feel sorry for you, but most people will think you’re a doormat. Guess what happens to doormats? People walk all over them. Remember during the timeouts in game 2 of the series against Alaska, when you kept screaming at your players about the defensive rotations that you practiced that they weren’t following? They just looked at you without any reaction. That was them walking all over you.

Maybe it’s the management, and the ham-fisted manner it has “built up” this team, acquiring pieces that don’t fit with little regard for team chemistry, league rules, or just plain delicadeza. Their treatment of Siot Tanquingcen was bad, but it comes as little surprise to PBA observers the way the management has been running this team. Maybe that’s why when the Beermen end up losing in the playoffs, it’s instant schadenfreude for the rest of us.