After a long day at work and another early start tomorrow, I still find myself glued to the television set to watch a basketball game whose tape delayed broadcast is just about to start. Purefoods, my favorite basketball team since I was a child, is playing. It's not a particularly important game, one against the worst team in the league, in what would probably be a sloppy, boring affair. But sleep is much less important to me than watching my team play.

It can get really bad sometimes. I try to schedule my evenings (and really, my life) around these games. Once, I was hosting a party for my high school friends at my condo and stopped talking to everyone while the game was going. I've had my fair share of fights with girls over the fact that I can't be dragged away from the tube during games.

Back in 2004, I had my funniest experience as a Purefoods fan while watching a game live at the venue. The team had been mediocre for a few years, but there was renewed excitement for the team after drafting a couple of dynamic rookies from the University of the East, James Yap and Paul Artadi. My office was in Timog, and my place was a only stone's throw away from Cubao, so I caught most of the team's games from that conference live at the Araneta Coliseum.

It was the start of the playoffs, and it was a Wednesday night game against the Coca-Cola Tigers. I wanted to watch the game live, but it was such a hassle because this game was scheduled at the Philsports Arena in Pasig. But I left work early, braved the rains, and got to the venue on time. While I was still weighing my options about how to get a ticket to the game, a scalper approached me offering me a ticket--it was a great seat just a couple of rows from courtside--at face value. Almost grateful, I grabbed the ticket and rushed in to find my seat.

I quickly figured out the catch: the ticket was a reserved corporate seat for Coke, and my seat was right behind the team's bench. Not only was I surrounded by family and friends of Coke players and officials, but seated right in front of me was Chot Reyes, who a few days earlier had given up Coke coaching duties to concentrate on the national team. Erstwhile assistant coach Biboy Ravanes was technically calling the shots for the Tigers, but Reyes still barked out instructions from the stands.

It was terrible; Purefoods was winning, but I couldn't clap or cheer. As the final buzzer sounded on the upset win by the young Purefoods team over the more seasoned Tigers, all I could manage was a timid smile. I think I pumped my fist when I got out of the arena.

When I was six, my mom, who didn't know (or care) much about basketball, took me to watch a game live because I got good grades, and because I really, really wanted to watch Jojo Lastimosa play basketball (Lastimosa, THREE-POINTS!!!). We chanced upon the semifinal knockout game between Purefoods and Ginebra. David Thirdkill led the Hotdogs to victory, but a riot damn near broke out late in the fourth quarter with Jaworski egging on the rough Ginebra crowd. It was my fondest childhood memory with my mom.

Last year, I found myself playing point-person for arrangements during my grandfather's wake. I was extremely close to him and it was just a terrible time. I was depressed and exhausted for the whole week. And yet whenever I sneaked home to get some rest, instead of sleeping, I would invariably turn the TV on to watch the Philippine Cup Finals between Purefoods and Sta. Lucia. It was the only thing in the world that made my heart a little less broken and my body a little less tired. It's sad, I know, how much of my happiness lies in James Yap's fadeaway jumper.