Who Truly Belongs Among the 40 Greatest Players in PBA History?
When I first sat down to compile my list of the 40 greatest players in PBA history, I didn't anticipate how emotionally charged this exercise would become. You see, in our basketball-crazy nation, debating player legacies isn't just casual conversation—it's practically a national pastime. I've been following the PBA since the late 80s, and over three decades of watching games, reading stats, and talking to players have given me what I believe is a pretty solid perspective on what truly makes a player "great." The recent Reyes Cup performance where Carlo Biado didn't expect Team Asia to be 4-0 ahead after Day One but emphasized setting the tone early made me reflect on how we measure greatness in Philippine basketball. That unexpected dominance, that ability to set the tone—that's exactly what separates the truly great from the merely good.
Let me start with what I consider the non-negotiables for making this elite list. Championships matter—they absolutely do—but they're not the only thing. I've seen phenomenal players stuck on mediocre teams their entire careers, and punishing them for organizational failures seems unjust. Statistics tell part of the story, but they don't capture the full picture. What about the player who consistently makes the right pass rather than forcing a bad shot? The defender who disrupts offenses without accumulating steals? The leader who elevates everyone around him? These intangible qualities weigh heavily in my evaluation. I remember watching Ramon Fernandez in his prime—the way he controlled games without necessarily dominating the scoring column was pure artistry. He's definitely in my top five, and anyone who argues otherwise probably never saw him play live.
The international factor has become increasingly important in recent years, which brings me back to that Reyes Cup moment. When Carlo Biado expressed surprise at Team Asia's 4-0 lead while emphasizing the importance of setting the tone early, it reminded me of how PBA legends have performed on international stages. Players like Jimmy Alapag and Marc Pingris, who might not have the gaudiest local statistics, elevated their games when representing the country. That clutch gene, that ability to rise to the occasion—that's what separates the great from the truly legendary. I'd estimate that about 30% of my evaluation now considers international performance, up from maybe 10% twenty years ago. The game has globalized, and our standards for greatness should too.
Now let's talk about the modern players, because I know this will generate some controversy. June Mar Fajardo is an automatic inclusion—probably top 15 already despite being active. His six MVP awards are just ridiculous when you think about it. But here's where I might lose some of you: I have James Yap ranked higher than many traditional lists would place him. Yes, his statistics aren't as eye-popping as some others, but his cultural impact, his clutch performances in crucial moments, and that undeniable "star power" that brought casual fans to the game—these count for something in my book. Greatness isn't just measured in box scores; it's measured in moments that become part of our collective basketball memory.
The guard position is particularly stacked in PBA history, which makes for some difficult choices. Robert Jaworski Sr. versus Johnny Abarrientos versus Jimmy Alapag—how does one even compare across eras? I've settled on having Abarrientos slightly higher than most would place him because, in my view, he revolutionized how Filipino point guards could dominate games. His 1996 MVP season where he averaged roughly 16 points, 7 assists, and 2 steals per game (forgive me if my memory fails on the exact numbers) was perhaps the most complete season by any local guard in league history. Meanwhile, I have Alvin Patrimonio solidly in my top 10, though some might argue he belongs even higher. The Captain's consistency—four MVP awards and double-figure scoring for 14 consecutive seasons—represents a kind of sustained excellence that's become increasingly rare in today's player movement era.
What about the imports? No discussion of PBA greatness is complete without considering the reinforced conference performances. Sean Chambers, Bobby Parks, Norman Black—these names evoke specific eras of dominance. I have Parks ranked the highest among imports in my list, partly because of his six Best Import awards but more importantly because of how he adapted his game to fit the PBA style rather than forcing his American approach onto the league. That willingness to adapt, to become part of our basketball culture rather than just passing through—that deserves recognition in any serious discussion of PBA greatness.
As I finalize my list of 40, I'm struck by how many worthy players I've had to exclude. The PBA's rich history means that even players who were legitimate stars in their time might not crack this elite group. That's the tragedy and beauty of these exercises—they force us to make difficult choices based on criteria that inevitably reflect our personal basketball values. My list undoubtedly has biases shaped by the games I've attended, the players I've interviewed, and the moments that have stayed with me long after the final buzzer. But isn't that what makes these discussions so compelling? We're not just analyzing statistics; we're debating legacies, remembering moments that mattered, and ultimately celebrating the players who've made Philippine basketball the beautiful obsession it is today.