She included this warning, though: It’s going to be tough. My body’s going to ache for days, so much that I won’t be able to raise my hand, yawn, laugh, twist my midsection, turn my head, scratch my back, do the split, perform cartwheels, breakdance and do back-flips at the edge of the top floor of high-rise buildings for a couple of weeks.

“You’d have to be crazy to try it,” she said.

Not the most inviting of propositions—one that made me want to ask her if she was really asking me to join or not—but heck, I said yes.

I mean, why the hell not? Aside from the fact that I’ll miss my daily dose of high-rise back flips for the next couple of weeks?

Besides, when I checked my schedule, I had no break-dancing commitments for the next 18 years.

And I really needed to do something about a gut that’s starting to look like a flotation device around my waist.

So I told her yes.

I later found out that our trainer was going to be light welterweight Romeo Brin, a three-time Olympian who recently won a silver medal in the Manila Southeast Asian Games. He had asked my friend what my goal was for taking up the sport and I told her to tell him I needed to shed off pounds.

“I might be going to cover an event in Boracay, or vacation in Cebu, within the month. I need to be able to strip off my shirt without looking like a beached whale,” I said.

A day later, she said she had talked to Brin and that the boxer said he’d take a look at me and see what he can do.

I bought a pair of Everlast gloves and a pair of Everlast hand wraps (–plugging!) and hit the gym at 8 a.m. Tuesday.

We did stretches, Brin taught footwork and punching techniques and then we later did the mitts atop the ring for a couple of rounds and later, he made me shadow-box for two more rounds.

I now know a handful of combinations. Left jabs, right straights, left hooks and uppercuts.

When I was done, I was proud of the sweat I squeezed off. I really felt I lost a pound or two in the two-hour session. I took off my shirt and looked at myself at the mirror. Okay, so my abs didn’t remotely resemble the ones popularized by the Spartans of 300 but I felt I did a good job for my first day.

Brin said so himself: “You’ll learn this sport quick. You’re a hard worker.”

Which, however, in layman’s terms, and judging by the smirk on his face, means: “I can’t believe you invested in a pair of branded gloves to try a sport that requires footwork that’s too complicated for people with two left feet like you.” Or, in short, “you punch like a lady.”

I shrugged off the message between the lines and asked him if we could meet my goal.

“What goal?” he asked.

“Lose weight immediately. Have a trim and sculpted body asap,” I replied.

And his answer?

“Taon ang bibilangin.”

Translated, loosely, as: “Are you fucking insane? The only way you’re going to lose weight is if you saw off both legs and step on a weighing scale with your hands attached to a hot-air balloon.”

The willowy La Salle student, a mass communication major who moonlights as a varsity for her school’s volleyball squad, asked me.

Her friend, who was filming the interview, sat beside her, eyes round in anticipation for the answer.

I took a sip from a large cup containing iced white chocolate, leaned against one of those cushioned chairs in the corner coffee shop near my place and fell into a wonderful wave of reminiscing.

“Well,” I said. “There are a lot, I don’t know where to start, really. Are you sure you have enough memory space on your camcorder for this?”

The two students, who earlier sought this appointment to interview me for a school project, nodded in unison, almost hypnotically, as if they were expecting me to retell the time I rode a Space Shuttle and joined a NASA expedition to Mars.

But hey, there was nothing that spectacular about my job as a sportswriter.

Still, the moments that leave your hair bristling are a-plenty.

“For starters, how about seeing my byline for the first time,” I said, recalling a football tournament I covered for Today that carried my first-ever byline.

And then the words—and the memories—flowed out of my mouth freely and in rapid succession, it seemed that I no longer felt the need to breathe.

“There is no one moment, really, but a garage-full of snapshots that I can sift through endlessly and not be able to come up with a definitive favorite.

“It is watching Tiger Woods up close, ripping a drive on the first tee of the Mimosa golf course and then listen to him give tips to young kids fortunate enough to get handpicked for a rare event; it is watching the smile on those kids faces as he takes their hands and adjusts their swing.

“It is sitting across Kobe Bryant and listening him tell a funny story about escaping his bodyguards and going for a stroll in Glorietta, getting away incognito until he went inside a TGIF restaurant and somebody screamed, ‘Kobe!’ and then holing himself up in that joint until his bodyguards rescued him from the crowd that built up outside.

“It is listening to Grant Hill talk and realizing athletes are more than just dumb jocks; It is watching Shaquille O’Neal lift Johnny Abarrientos up for a slam dunk in an exhibition game and then listening to him rap while his massive hand patted my shoulder.

“It is going one-on-one with T-Mac in a secluded interview room and then listening to him speak wistfully aboutn his early dreams of playing for the New York Yankees.

“It is coming up close and personal to the likes of Batista and Mick Foley and wondering if you’re going to ask a question that’s going to piss them off and do a routine backbreaker on you.

“And it isn’t even purely about getting to meet these foreign stars who come to visit the country.

“It’s also about sitting beside Efren ‘Bata’ Reyes while he cracks jokes about Django Bustamante in an impromptu commentator act that sounded more like a stand-up comedy routine.

“Or watching Bal David curl through a series of picks and nailing the winning shot that reduces a giant like Asi Taulava to tears.

“It is talking to a breast cancer survivor and listening how she braved the odds to win gold medals in a rowing competition in Singapore.

“It is sitting down in a beer joint with Mon Fernandez, who you never saw play but idolized so hard as a teenager obsessed with hoops. And then telling stories about the time he used to dribble down the court with the grace and elegance of a guard and dishing off behind-the-back passes.

“It is watching an entire coliseum erupt in a thunderous cheer as Ginebra breaks a title-drought. Or watching Danny Seigle soar to the hoop. Or watching Danny Ildefonso stuff home a jam. Or falling off your chair as Mike Cortez issues a pin-point assist.

“It is sitting under the graying sky with a female footballer on the eve of her departure to Europe, where she hopes to make a mark for herself and open the doors for the country’s booters in that part of the world, also known as football heaven.

“It is standing in a dusty corner of a creaky coliseum in some far-flung rural province in Malaysia, watching a group of rag-tag Pinoy cagers bringing smiles to a handful of OFW’s who saved up phone card money just to watch them play, never mind how obscure their names were, so obscure that the two names that came out of that squad were Air21 swingman Gary David and PBL coach Caloy Garcia.

I stop to finally take a breath.

“It is flying to Bangkok and covering the Asian Games for the first time as a 22-year-old and trying to beat deadlines surrounded by grizzled veterans of Philippine sports journalism.

“It is watching Manny Pacquiao practice an evasive move pinned against the ropes in an airy gym in Hollywood and then watching him actually use the technique to floor Erik Morales in Las Vegas.

“It is flying to South Korea and numbing your tongue with kimchi and talking to Mikee Cojuangco and staring at those eyes and realizing that oh yes, they really drown you and force you to suck in air in panicky gulps And then, just when you think its safe to stare at her again because your heartbeat’s stable and your breathing’s on a regular pace, she smiles and you hyperventilate.

“It is answering a phone call and realizing it’s Paeng Nepumuceno on the other end of the line, thanking you for an article you wrote about him.

“It’s sitting at the baseline of the Araneta Coliseum hardcourt and watching the UST Tigers—those beloved UST Tigers—win an improbable UAAP title.

“It’s receiving a thank-you text message from Alvin Patrimonio who, two seconds after you’ve read the text, calls you to say thank you again for something as simple as writing an article about him.

“Okay, sir,” the La Salle student says. “I think we get the point.”

Being… This is sports. This is a million snapshots that blow by you and make your heartbeat race for several reasons that its hard to choose what your favorite moment is. This is reality TV at its best.

For every high moment, there will be those that make you feel like OD-ing on rat poison, like the time I watched Lee Sang Min bury that dagger of a triple that took the Philippines out of an Asian Games final showdown with basketball powerhouse China.

But hey… I wouldn’t trade all the heartaches for any other job in the world. Not even one that entails riding a Space Shuttle and joining a NASA expedition to Mars.

If you’re reading this on the 11th of January, then somewhere along today, the BAP is filing a libel suit against Inquirer columnist Recah Trinidad and sports editor Teddyvic Melendres.

I read a faxed advisory by the group’s lawyer, Bonifacio Alentajan (yes, him. Apparently the BAP believes that one controversy-riddled organization deserves a controvery-riddled lawyer) but failed to make a mental note as to where the case was to be filed.

They did not specify which of Ka Recah’s columns is the subject of their libel case but since my job entails copyreading, editing and closing sports pages for the country’s No. 1 paper, I pretty much have an idea as to which piece is under judicial fire right now.

It is the one where Ka Recah calls BAP sec-gen Graham Lim a bedbug. A surot.

Now, I am not well-versed on the intricacies of libel law but I do remember that malice has to be explicit. In Ka Recah’s column, when he called Graham Lim a surot, it was only because he was narrating a conversation that took place during a coffee shop meeting with Sen. Jinggoy Estrada.

And in that conversation, it wasn’t even Ka Recah who called Graham Lim a surot. It was another sports journalist he code-named B. Trust me, the journalist isn’t a figment of Ka Recah’s imagination so that he could use it to shield him from libel charges.

B exists. B uttered the phrase calling Graham Lim a surot. I know B.

That has to count as something in a libel suit, right?

Anyway. That’s beside the point. The point is, I find it funny that Graham Lim is ruffled at someone for calling him surot.

Technically, he isn’t. He is a human being, going by his anatomical parts and genetic make-up. Somewhere right between the ears, though, is where the debate arises as to what branch of the animal kingdom he really belongs to.

What branch of the biological kingdom, actually.

So, to set the record straight, Graham Lim is not a surot. Not a bedbug.

He is an alien. He is an illegal alien who continues to illegally reside in the Philippines because of a bureaucratic system that allows him to sidestep the lines by which what is legal is defined.

Because of that bureaucracy, I wouldn’t be surprised if he already carries a Philippine passport despite a court order to have him deported immediately.

He is a sports official who has more than just the sport’s interest in mind, judging by the way he has handled the affairs of the BAP of late.

If the sport were a living, breathing being with a legal personality, it would have sued him in court, too, for attempted murder, rape and grave abuse of power.

Or it would have gone caveman, tied a noose around his balls so tight until they turned blue and then attached the other end of the rope to a caffeine-overdosed kangaroo.

But hey, basketball’s a sport and Graham Lim is a being of some kind who can hire a lawyer to file libel charges in his behalf. So, instead of Graham Lim being tried for treason—which is what the degeneration of the country’s favorite sport under his watch should amount to—it is Ka Recah and Teddyvic who will be facing a legal suit.

Will it prosper?

Can you drop a cube of ice in hell and expect the whole of Satan’s lair to freeze over?

Let me give you the idea of how affected the sports desk was when the media advisory of the libel suit was faxed to us.

Teddyvic, sipping coffee from a Zodiac-themed cup, read the details on the faxprint and commented out loudly as to how stupid he was to FORGET PUTTING SUGAR IN HIS COFFEE.

He showed me the media advisory and my first reaction was I’VE GOT EXTRA PACKETS OF NUTRASWEET AND WOULD YOU LIKE TO HAVE ONE?

And when the faxprint was passed around, somebody wondered if I COULD PLEASE HAVE THE OTHER PACKET OF NUTRASWEET I SEEM TO HAVE RUN OUT OF SUGAR TOO.

I don’t know where the media advisory ended up.

Graham Lim can never be tried for his crimes against basketball. But the sport’s fans out there can get to work by writing letters and asking the Taiwanese citizen why our hopes are dimming for a ticket to the Olympics.

Graham Lim, a surot? Of course not.

The worst bedbug bite can never do as much damage to a sport the way he already has.

 It took cellphone airtime and a little bit more charm to convince those writers to have their articles posted on this blog. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this because the Sports Page usually offers these writers a chance to flex their creative muscles without the constraints of tight editorial newspaper space to restrain them.

 To those who hope to become sportswriters in the future, here’s a look at what sportswriting should be.)

By Jasmine W. Payo
Philippine Daily Inquirer
 
IT was a season launched on a tide of tears.

 In the summer of 2006, the University of Santo Tomas players heard a news that seemed surreal-a young teammate passed away.
 
 John Lee Apil, a six-foot guard who just debuted with the Growling Tigers, died of electrocution after saving two children in a swimming pool accident in Solana, Cagayan.
 
 Weeks of mourning soon passed. Little did the Tigers know that months later, Apil’s memory will serve as inspiration.
 
 And it was something the team sorely needed in moments of doubt during their unbelievable championship run in the 69th University Athletic Association of the Philippines (UAAP).
 
 There were many reasons, in fact, the Tigers wouldn’t win the senior basketball title.
 
 For one, no one really took  new coach Pido Jarencio seriously.  His team philosophy alone turned out to be a reliable punch line.
 
 ”We have the three Ps–pride, puso and palaban (pride, heart and to be a fighter),” Jarencio declared quite often.
 
 Then came the rash of illnesses and injuries on key players early in the season that pushed the Tigers further south midway in the elimination round.
 
 
 Amid the seemingly hopeless flotsam at the UST camp, another team was having a glorious start in the 82nd National Collegiate Athletic Association (NCAA).
 
 The San Beda Red Lions had everything a team could possible need to win it all.
 
 Even if all the hype felt new, the Lions seriously got the talent, size, depth and experience. Toss in the whimsical catch-phrase, too –”End 28 at 82″ (The succinct battle cry to end the Lions’ 28-year title drought on Season 82).
 
 Then again, the intimidating presence of Samuel Ekwe was among the key reasons the Lions jumped back into title contention.
 
 Simply put, there’s just no blueprint of what to do when faced with a 6-foot-8, 245-pound slotman from Nigeria.
 
 As predicted, the Lions cruised through most games and strung up 12 straight wins by the end of the elimination round.
  
 But as the Lions roared in the NCAA, the Tigers scratched and clawed in the UAAP.
  
 In a season that seemed to be going nowhere,  Jarencio continued to infuse the never-say-die spirit on a crew that often seemed to be on the verge of  crumbling.
 
 Plain perseverance marked the Tigers’ climb to third place with a 6-6 win-loss record at the end of the elimination round.
 
 But there must be some mystical touches too, as some players would later claim. The Tigers’ final elimination game–a crucial win over the fourth-running Adamson Falcons– fell on Sept. 3, the late Apil’s birthday.
 
 Soon, the reference to their departed teammate started to build up.
 
 In the the Final Four, the Tigers toppled the second-seeded University of the East Warriors to become the fifth squad in league history to overcome the twice-to-beat advantage.
 
 The Tigers drew huge games from rookie sensation Jervy Cruz, Jojo Duncil, Anthony Espiritu and Allan Evangelista.
 
 Yet that didn’t stop them from crediting an assist from Apil.
 
 Jun Cortez, one of Apil’s close friends in the team, recounted how a black butterfly fluttered in one of their huddles.
 
 Jarencio, of course, had nothing but praises for his hardworking bunch of overachievers.
 
 ”It’s no longer about talent or skills, it’s about desire, heart and pride. The boys worked hard because they want this,” said Jarencio.
 
 And they were words that rang even more true during the Tigers’ epic Finals series against the Ateneo Blue Eagles.
 
 Just like the Lions in the NCAA, the top-ranked Eagles had the advantage at all fronts.
 
 With league superstar JC Intal at the helm, the Eagles ruled the eliminations with a 10-2 card, then disposed  the Adamson Falcons in just one semifinal game despite the herculean effort of  Most Valuable Player Ken Bono.
 
 Also working for the Eagles was the absence of perennial powerhouse and arch rival De La Salle Green Archers, who served a one-year suspension in the league for fielding two ineligible players.
 
 Even the Far Eastern University Tamaraws nosedived to become the first defensing champion to miss the semifinals since the league implemented the Final Four format.
 
 Yet none of these mattered to the scrappy Tigers.
  
 Surprisngly barging in to the UAAP Finals, the Tigers already felt amply rewarded.
 
 ”We shouldn’t even be here,” admitted Jarencio.
  
 While the Tigers anticipated a tough finale, the Lions didn’t expect that the road to the NCAA championship would no longer be strewn with flowers.
  
 ”It was an experience. An adversity. And we, as a team, face adversity as just another phase we have to go through ,” said San Beda coach Koy Banal. 
  
 The Lions squandered a 20-point lead and survived three homestretch turnovers to cling to a 68-67 triumph over the Philippine Christian University Dolphins in the winner-take-all Game 3 of the Finals series.
  
 Streaky shooter Jason Castro almost single-handedly carried the fight for  the Dolphins.
  
 But the Lions managed to hang on despite the jittery misses and crucial errors of their key players-from  MVP and Rookie of the Year Sam Ekwe to Finals MVP Yousif Aljamal to rookie standout Pong Escobal.
  
 ”PCU is the best example of the maxim, ‘it’s not over till it’s over.’ We know that they won’t give it to us that easily,” said Banal.
  
 In the UAAP Finals series, the Tigers’ faith also got tested.
  
 Allan Evangelista, with his head held up high and arms akimbo, proudly faced the  UST crowd after nailing a jumper with only a second  left in Game 1 of the best-of-three title showdown.
  
 The early celebration, however, proved fatal for the Tigers.
  
 For all in one second, Doug Kramer received a perfect inbound pass from Macky Escalona, turned around, buried an undergoal stab and put the Tigers back in their place.
  
 And just like that, the Eagles did it again.
  
 Pulling off Houdini feats all throughout the season, the Eagles escaped once more with a thrilling 73-72 triumph to move within a win away from the title.
  
 ”There was a mental lapse. We’re charging it to experience,” admitted Jarencio.
  
 So after getting chided for their last-second complacency, the Tigers showed full control in dismantling the Eagles, 87-71, in Game 2 to forge a do-or-die match. 
  
 And Game 3 turned out to be a fitting end to the Tigers’ wonder year.
  
 Displaying extraordinary grit and cohesiveness, the Tigers shell-shocked the heavily favored Eagles in a classic 76-74 overtime victory.
  
 Finals MVP Jojo Duncil made the Tigers’ unexpected title run possible. Sensational in the extra period, Duncil had a hot hand in the final two-minute stretch.
  
 But it was the pressure-packed free throws of their second stringers – - Dylan Ababou and Jun Cortez – - that ended the Tigers’ 10-year title drought.
  
 Armed with nothing but heart, the Tigers pulled out one more miracle out of their dream season.

  So tears flowed freely once again. But this time, the Tigers cried for good reasons.

 It took cellphone airtime and a little bit more charm to convince those writers to have their articles posted on this blog. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this because the Sports Page usually offers these writers a chance to flex their creative muscles without the constraints of tight editorial newspaper space to restrain them.

 To those who hope to become sportswriters in the future, here’s a look at what sportswriting should be.)

By Nick Giongco
Bulletin
THERE must be something right in the way chairman William ‘Butch’ Ramirez conducts his business at the Philippine Sports Commission (PSC) that Malacanang threw back his resignation papers and assigned him to lead the country’s quest to win an Olympic gold medal.

            Having been relegated to a lame duck in the last couple of months of 2006 after announcing that he would step down following the Doha Asian Games, Ramirez even had booked a flight to the US to be with his grandkids confident he would no longer be told to stay.

            But fate had a different script.

            A few days after Team Philippines returned with a medal tally of 4 (gold)-6 (silver)-9 (bronze) in Qatar, Ramirez accompanied the medallists for a courtesy call with President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo at the Palace where he was told to call the shots for the PSC at least up to the 2008 Beijing Games.

            Like a good soldier, Ramirez, 56, did not protest the Commander-in-Chief’s order even if it would meant that he will have a lot of explaining to do with his loved ones.

            While the conversation with the President was short, the message relayed had a tremendous impact.

            “Let’s go to work,” Ramirez said a few hours after being given a fresh mandate.

            Work simply meant that Ramirez will have to sacrifice more as the task at hand is not as stress-free as retaining the overall crown when Thailand hosts the 2007 Southeast Asian Games.

            Go for gold, Ramirez was told.

            But saying it is definitely much easier than achieving something like it.

            Ramirez had to endure brickbats for 12 months from critics most of whom hid under the veil of anonymity and this was one reason why he had to issue a statement regarding his resignation.

            “I have been asked many times by my family that what I am doing is not worth it,” said Ramirez, who assumed the post of chairman in July 2005 after serving on an interim basis the previous six months.

            Before his position was upgraded, Ramirez had been serving as commissioner beginning in 2000.           

 ”One day, when I leave the PSC, I think I will be able to do well in other areas because of my experience here. While I was here (at the PSC), I was able to learn how to adapt to situations because I found out that the territory is treacherous.”

            Even before he assumed the chairmanship, there were already those who drooled over the prospects of seeing him fall from grace, including the acerbic-tongued athletics chief Go Teng Kok, who Ramirez later revealed could be tamed, and a few within the confines of the PSC who can’t wait for their boss to step on a banana peel.

            But the most critical phase of Ramirez’s chairmanship came in the second half of 2006 when it was reported in a few papers of his alleged usage of the rental fee gained from Brent School International amounting to millions of pesos.

            As it turned out, it was all a hoax as he was not charged in the Ombudsman or in any other court.

            “I haven’t received any document charging me with what has been reported,” said Ramirez, noting that despite the numerous heartaches, his “conscience is clear and he does not harbor hard feelings” toward his critics.

            Ramirez took everything on the chin and while he wobbled and even fell from a few solid shots, he mustered enough energy and strength to regain his bearings, parry the punches and deliver a knockout blow.

            “Now that I have been given a fresh mandate, I am looking forward to the objective of winning that first Olympic gold,” said Ramirez.

            With First Gentleman Mike Arroyo lending a hand just like when he staged a pledging session for the country’s preparations for the 2005 SEA Games, Ramirez is upbeat about the chances of realizing that dream.

            “We have to come up with a strategy and of course funding. It is not impossible. It can be done.”

            Providing ample backup in this drive is the full cooperation of another key ingredient in the mix, the Philippine Olympic Committee (POC).

  ”With Butch (Ramirez), we won’t have to break him in,” said POC president Jose Cojuangco Jr. in reaction to the retention of Ramirez as chairman after it was floated that a replacement was on his way.

  Cojuangco said the partnership between the POC and the PSC is going to be vital since the two entities have been at loggerheads many times in the past even over trivial pursuits.

  ”I have been told that for the first time, the PSC and the POC have been working hand in hand,” said Cojuangco. “Now, it’s different. The PSC and the POC are coordinating with each other that the POC knows what the PSC’s plans are and vice-versa.”

  As for Ramirez, he hopes that he be given the chance to prove his true worth.

 It took cellphone airtime and a little bit more charm to convince those writers to have their articles posted on this blog. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this because the Sports Page usually offers these writers a chance to flex their creative muscles without the constraints of tight editorial newspaper space to restrain them.

 To those who hope to become sportswriters in the future, here’s a look at what sportswriting should be.)

By Noli Cruz
Tempo

Once upon a time there was a little kid with a wooden stool
Chewing a gum to keep his cool
Waiting his turn to play some pool
And make oppositions look like a fool.
 
   Humble Beginning
 
FOR 2006 World Pool Championship winner Ronato “Ronnie” Alcano, his humble beginning has a lot to do with his recent success in pool.

 He was only eight years old and barely taller than the table when his father, the late Ricardo, introduced him to the sport.

 Ricardo, a former professional basketball player playing for 7-Up, was then running a billiards hall at the old market plaza of Calamba , Laguna.

 ”Kailangan ko pa ng bangkito nun para makatira ng maayos,” recalled Alcano.

 He immediately developed into a fine player.

 Soon he was touring his home town to play money game.

 ”Dose anyos pa lang ako idinadayo na ako ng mga managers sa amin,” Alcano related.

 The wooden stool was still his best buddy then.

 ”Baon ko pa rin ‘yung bangkito pero kapag malayo lang ang pato saka ko ginagamit.”
He skipped classes to hear some cheers
…and help feed the family he dears
Brought his ass somewhere to pursue a career
…and see the man who endorses a beer
 
   The Price
 
The success he enjoyed in the pool halls took its toll on his education.

“Grade 6 lang ang inabot ko,” Alcano said.

 ”Ganun talaga siguro. Kailangang may isakripisyo ka para ka umangat.”

 But he is, in no way, encouraging the youth to follow his trail.

“Dapat bigyan ng oras ang mga importanteng bagay gaya ng pag-aaral.”

 Take it from the man who had to work as security guard in a local factory to help his family survive the tough times.

 It was during his stint as teen-aged sentinel when Alcano was advised by his managers to try his luck in Manila .

 ”Baka matulad daw ako sa magagaling na players namin na ‘di nagkaroon ng break.”

 One of those unfortunate souls is his childhood idol nicknamed Asin.

 ”Si Asin ‘yung pinaka magaling sa amin nung araw. Mabigat ‘yung handicap nun sa rotation. Minsan lumalaban ‘yun ng 40-80,” Alcano narrated.

 But little exposure to tough competitions made Asin an easy prey to the pool sharks in Manila.

 Somebody told him that Asin was losing badly in the big city and a certain Efren “Bata” Reyes was even giving him a 30-90 plus.

 You got to be kidding me. Alcano followed the advice and off he went to Manila.

 ”Nineteen pa lang ako nun. Mahirap malayo sa kinalakihan mo pero kailangan ko ‘yung gawin para makatulong sa pamilya ko.”

 And to find the pool wizard who humbled his hero.

And the kid became a man
He found a new hero and soon joined his clan
It was a blast since he left home
He’s running too fast, he’s a breath away from Rome
 

The Prize

Alcano saw Reyes play and became an instant fan.

 ”Bale ‘yung laro ni Efren ang ginawa kong pamantayan nung level ko hanggang sa pakiramdam ko pareho na kami ng dunong sa laro,” related Alcano.

 Soon enough he was making his own waves in the national pool circuit.

 He earned his first major title in the LGU Olympics in the mid-90s, beating Victor Arpilleda in the rotation finals.

 A few more years of hustling and competing in tournament settings completed his transformation from being a diamond in the rough into a polished gem.

 In 2001, getting support from local officials and managers in money game, Alcano invaded the US Pool Circuit.

 He was an instant hit in the tour, winning five legs and finishing inside the top three on five other occasions.

 His exploits earned him the Rookie of the Year award for the 2001-02 from popular pool website AzBilliards.

 Last year was another banner season for Alcano.

 He saved the Filipino pride by toppling Taiwanese No. 1 Yang Ching-Shun in the finals of the San Miguel Asian 9-Ball Tour in Manila. It came at a time when Reyes relinquished the overall championship of the tour to Yang.

 Alcano also ruled the Korean Invitational and won two gold medals in the rotation events of the 23rd Southeast Asian Games.

 Those singles and doubles set up the booming home run he hit a few at-bats later.
 
Finally, he reached the land of kings
From Calamba with love, he said
He may leave early and go somewhere
But his trace will be there forever
 
The Big One
 
On the night of Nov. 12, Alcano became the third Filipino in eight years to win the World Pool Championship following a runaway 17-11 victory over Germany ‘s Ralf Souquet at the Philippine International Convention Center.

 He came in as an underdog against the 1996 champion but it didn’t look like it as he led throughout the alternate break match.

 Reyes won the 1999 edition of the event in Cardiff, Wales while Alex Pagulayan won it two years ago in Taipei, Taiwan.

 Alcano, 34, capped his masterpiece with a 1-9 combination off a bad shot by Souquet, sending the highly partisan crowd into a frenzied celebration and the $100,000 top prize into his pocket.

 ”This victory will change my life forever,” he was quoted as saying after the finals.

 Just a couple of days earlier, he was cursed by many after eliminating a nation’s hero in Reyes, 10-7, in the Round of 32.

 But he won them back with victories over Taiwanese star Kuo Po Cheng in the Sweet 16, 11-5, last year’s champion and another Taiwanese Wu Chia-Ching in the quarterfinals, 11-6, and Chinese sensation Li He-Wen in the semifinals, 11-8.

 His championship conquest was as unlikely as his escape from the brink of elimination in the group play. He was given up for dead after losing to Luong Chi Dung, 7-8, and German Christian Reimering, 3-8.

 ”Kapag tinatanong nga ako ang sinasabi ko laglag na,” said Alcano.

 A sweep by Luong in Group 28 and a victory by Holland ‘s Marcel Martens over Reimering gave Alcano a chance to advance.

 He beat Martens, 8-2, to move into the knockout round. A victory less decisive would have been rendered meaningless.

 It took cellphone airtime and a little bit more charm to convince those writers to have their articles posted on this blog. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this because the Sports Page usually offers these writers a chance to flex their creative muscles without the constraints of tight editorial newspaper space to restrain them.

 To those who hope to become sportswriters in the future, here’s a look at what sportswriting should be.)

By Noli Cortez
Malaya

ONE mission accomplished; time for another.

 The men at the helm of the Philippine Basketball Association (PBA) are already hard at work retooling and rearming the league for the challenges of a third decade, shortly after steering it to an eye-popping turnaround in the 2005-06 season.

 ”We must ride on the momentum,” simply explained PBA commissioner Noli Eala, a comment given 100 percent approval by last year’s chairman, Eliezer ‘Ely’ Capacio.

 ”The gains we built up the past year are just part of the PBA’s resurrection,” said Capacio. “Hindi kailangang magpabaya because the job is far from finished.”

 Although the pace of their work is indeed hectic, the two must – and should – still find time to savor the fruits of their most recent labors.

 The two came in at a time when live attendances were down, TV ratings were not worth mentioning, league players were indifferent and once audaciously loyal fans shied away, adopting alternative forms of entertainment.

 Live attendance in Metro Manila rose by 74.1 percent (from 23,701 to 737,782) as gate receipts jumped by 14.3 percent. 

 Crowds of over 10,000 were no longer a rarity and television coveror ABC-5 reported consistent growth in viewership.

 At the end of the year, total net income was at least P77 million, more than double from last season’s P37M.
 Total revenues increased by P26 million, from P157 million to P183 million. TV ratings were up and so were attendance figures.

 ”For the first time in a long while, we’re prepared to give back dividends to our members,” Eala noted.

 Throw in reinforced marketing tie-ups and some new ones, plus a continuous demand for out-of-town games, and all indications point to the league being right on track for better times. 

  Capacio and Eala, however, won’t take all the credit for themselves for the league’s big rebound. 

 ”The fundamentals were laid down by my predecessors and my job, with the help of my fellow governors, was merely to follow up on them and back them up by passing certain policies and procedures,” said Capacio in his usual unassuming manner.

 ”Remember, I was just 1/9th of the entire Board. With the cooperation of the entire Board (of Governors), we were able to see the light, kung saan kami papunta,” he explained.

 ”Without the all-out support of the Board, our mere ideas would not even have gotten off the ground,” Eala said.

 On the personal side, the concerted works of Capacio and Eala were admittedly borne of love.

 The 6-foot-6 Capacio was a winner, be it as a player, coach, team manager or corporate executive in the league and he said his tenure was devoted at giving something back to the game that has been very good to him.

 ”It was a privilege serving basketball in different capacities. I owe so much to the game and I just tried to do the best I can during my tenure,” stated the man who debuted in the PBA with YCO in 1979 and played for eight seasons. In that period, he was part of the old Elizalde franchise’s three championships.

 As a coach, he guided Purefoods to the 1991 All-Filipino title and was on the bench as team manager when Coney Island won the 1997 Open Conference.

 Those experiences and his studies, (he graduated with a Liberal Arts degree from La Salle and also took a course at the Asian Institute of Management before being elevated to San Miguel Corporation’s Vice-President for Human Resources, Food Division) helped him pinpoint the problem when he took over the
chairmanship reins from Manuel “Buddy” Encarnado.

 ”I knew I had to focus more on the financial well-being of the league, to make it profitable. It was not really financially healthy when I came in,” he related.

 ”When the season started, we were fortunate enough because were able to solve our differences immediately. Having done that, we were able to buckle down to work.”

 Doing away with some flawed old concepts also helped him in charting a clearer path for the PBA.

 ”We agreed that the league’s old system will never bring us to where we want to be,” Capacio said. “While doing that, the whole season was dedicated to looking at our whole strategy.”

 While Capacio led the other Board members in directing where the PBA should go, it was Eala who saw to it the plans and courses of action are done according to the letter.

 It was a tough job the lawyer by profession and former sports commentator and newscaster welcomed most.

 Through the influence of his father, Eala had fallen in love with the PBA even in its early years. That love and passion grew when first he did radio work, and then joined the TV panel in 1990.

 That’s why when he was named commissioner in 2003 he made it a mission to get the reeling PBA back on its feet and solid ground.

  Among his accomplishments in the year that was, the 43-year-old Eala institutionalized a season format of two conferences from its usual three, resolved the different controversies through what the law dictates and with finality, made a clear stance on where the PBA stands as far as the national team is concerned and kept an eye out for expansion without sacrificing the playing field.
 
 Along the way, a fruitful deal with ABC-5 was locked into place, the PBA Commissioner’s Office was streamlined from top to bottom and official games were held overseas.
 
 The draft, pre-season exhibition games and All-Star Weekend have also turned into highly visible and marketable events.

  All those measures helped bring the fans back and, of course, pump up the PBA’s erstwhile lean coffers.

 ”We improved our fiscal position with new financial measures, reorganized our office to make functions more distinct, streamlined our organization to make it leaner without compromising our services and outsourced a lot, particularly in staging provincial games,” he said.

  Eala also said money isn’t the only yardstick in gauging the PBA’s success.

 ”It’s more how the PBA is now perceived,” he explained.  “We lost a team (Shell) last season and it should’ve meant fewer offerings. But because of the consolidation of players, the games became more interesting, more exciting and more intense.” 

 The absence of a Fil-Am in the Mythical selection is also a good sign of how the league is evolving.

 ”It’s a good indication that the PBA is evolving and giving more local-bred players a chance to prove themselves on the court.  It’s no surprise that our following is growing as a result,” Eala pointed out.

 Now, a glimpse of the PBA’s future can also be had, from possibly owning its own arena, playing more overseas games, expanding to more teams and tapping new markets.
 
 For the PBA’s 32nd season, Eala and new chairman Ricky Vargas both said the league is training its sights on the 1996 average live attendance of 7,700. 
 
 The league’s average attendance was 6,647 this past campaign, the highest since 1997. 
 
 It marked a 63.15 percent increase from the attendance in 2004-05.
  
 ”Our strategic battercry is to break the 1996 record and we’re calling it our 1996 Initiative,” said Eala.
 
 ”We set the target during our four-day planning session which was quite fulfilling. We’ve also set lofty targets in terms of revenues for the next three years.”

  A key thrust for the future is strengthening the league’s own media and entertainment arms.

 ”We want to create a presence like NBA TV with our own production,” said Eala.  “We also hope to come up with our own magazine while our partner, ABC-TV, will introduce virtual advertising next season and we expect it to generate more TV opportunities in media values for the league.”

  Eala said the PBA’s sales and marketing groups are formulating ticket packages for early buys and considering a pricing policy where the higher income groups or teams themselves subsidize the cost of tickets for their fans.
 
 All geared towards keeping the PBA on track.

 To those who hope to become sportswriters in the future, here’s a look at what sportswriting should be.)

By Dominic Menor
Business Mirror

“Free tickets.”

 The answer was quick that Noli Cortez, senior sportswriter of Malaya, seemed like he’d been prepared to answer it, the question being what is the greatest misconception about being a sportswriter.

 ”They think that we can get them,” Cortez said. “As a matter of fact, it’s hard to get them ourselves.”

 But can anybody fault the unwitting freebie-philes – those who don’t just settle for autographed notebooks anymore, rather headbands, game jerseys, even sneakers – for constantly tugging Cortez on his shorts?

 Sportswriters have the most glamorous job in the world, they say. They sit at courtside for free. They meet sports heroes. They speak to them regularly, and in some cases, become friends with them.

 People think sportswriters have it all good. Partly, they do.

 ”Like for instance when I cover the UAAP games especially La Salle-Ateneo,” Inquirer reporter Jasmine Payo says, “tickets can go by the thousands, but in our case, we just have to flash our IDs.”

 Nick Giongco says traveling is one of the perks of the job.

 ”‘Yun bang ‘yung ilalagay mong dateline kakaiba,” the Manila Bulletin’s boxing writer notes. “Tapos ang hotel mo hindi lang three stars. Makikilala mo ‘yung mga world figures sa sport mo. And being in a coverage na AP lang o Reuters ang pinapadala. It’s a different experience.”

 Sports fans who regularly scan newspapers for updates or results normally romanticize the sportswriter’s job, unable to recognize sometimes what it really is essentially: It is a job.

 Like other journalists from other sections, sportswriters go through similar rigors: beating deadlines, making contact with reliable sources from both sides, and is almost always on his toes 24/7.

 ”It’s a common thing for starters to find it difficult to meet deadlines,” The Star’s Gilbert `Abac’ Cordero, who started in 1989, recalls. “Doing a play-by-play was easy, and even knowing what to write in 20 minutes. But coming up with a story that is acceptable to your readers and to your editors, that posed a challenged.”

 Musong Castillo recalls how his first coverage went, and it wasn’t exactly how he envisioned it would go.

 ”Sa likod pa ng Makati City Hall ‘yun, maraming lamok tapos naka-shorts pa ako nu’n. It was already around 12 midnight to 1 a.m., tapos ang baho-baho pa,” the Inquirer reporter remembers. “That experience almost made me quit.”

 Cortez almost quit himself when he got his information mixed up.

 ”I was threatened with a lawsuit and it was my worst experience as a sportswriter,” he recalls. “But it taught me how to be more attentive to detail, first, and second, I realized then the importance of getting both sides of an issue.”

  Cortez, already more than 20 years in his profession, is past those rookie mistakes.

 ”Kapag ang in-interview mo sinabi, ‘You didn’t get it from me,’ that’s a tough spot to be in. You have to find other sources. You have to get independent confirmation.”

 Cordero, one of two reporters besides Giongco who covers Pacquiao fights overseas regularly, says the excitement is more toned down now compared to the time he started.

 ”The eagerness is more controlled now. Now you’re more careful, but of course those are things you develop as you mature.”

 Payo, part of the younger generation of sportswriters and one of those who broke the fraudulent recruitment of basketball players at De La Salle, faces a different challenge.

 ”As a female sportswriter, personally it’s a challenge that you always want to prove that you belong in a predominantly man’s world,” she says.

 ”Besides that I’m still young so it’s a little harder to earn people’s respect. So you have to prove you know your stuff.”

 Starting out in the lifestyle section, Payo immediately realized it was a different world she was entering altogether when she transferred to sports.

 ”Sa sports mas-rush lahat. Every game story you have to be conscious about getting your details correct, being creative and being able to write fast all at the same time.”

 A former sports editor for her college paper, Payo covers college sports regularly, and at times, multiple sports-simultaneously.

 ”It gets draining,” she says, citing one instance where she had to cover two basketball leagues, and tennis and gymnastics events all at the same time.

 ”But, you know, everybody has to go through it.”

 Castillo went through the same process of learning different sports because “we were only three sa sports section when I was starting out.”

 It must serve him in good stead now with the Inquirer because he covers basketball, horse-racing, and golf, the sport he says he is most passionate about.

 ”In terms of technical stuff, nasa upper rung ang golf sa degree of difficulty. You have to really understand the game before you can write it.

 At one point Castillo had to tag along with a golf veteran while he played so that Castillo learned the rudiments more meticulously.

 ”I was with him every hole. And I asked him why’d he take this shot or why’d he use this club. I was made to even understand more.”

 Like Castillo with golf, Giongco is more closely associated with one sport-boxing.

 Already a boxing writer for a magazine back in the late-1980′s, Giongco says sportswriters – particularly those who want to focus on one sport – have to earn their stripes.

 ”S’yempre magsisimula ka sa maliliit na [boxing] card, hahanapin mo ‘yung mga upcoming names na after several years, maaaring sisikat. But still, you’re not sure who’s going to make it. Trial and error din.“

 Giongco, who has covered a thousand boxing bouts, began covering Pacquiao when Pacquiao was a greenhorn starting out in dingy arenas. Eleven years after Pacquiao fought his first professional bout, Giongco holds arguably the distinction of being the one Pacquiao insider.

 ”May mga expectations, kaya minsan if, say, I’m on leave or I’m on vacation and I don’t write a story about Pacquiao and somebody else writes about it, it’s tough to swallow,” Giongco admits. “Ninety percent of the time, there’s a lot of pressure.”

 Despite the different worlds and cultures he has lived through as a boxing writer, Giongco says he still looks forward to other challenges.

 ”I’ve never really covered multisports events. Someday I’d like to be assigned to something like the Asian Games. That’ll be a different experience.”

 Castillo waxes more sentimental when asked what his ideal coverage would be.

 ”I’d like to be one of the guys who’ll cover the Filipino who wins on the PGA for the first time. Nothing will compare to that.”

 Cortez defines his next coverage with the same idealism and nostalgia.

“For me, it’s about covering the next sports hero,” he begins. “I mean I’ve written about the Jaworskis, the Patrimonios and even other events like the Eugene Torres. There will always come a sports figure that you’ll be inspired to write about.”

 ”Winston Churchill once said, ‘If you’re looking for bad news read the front page, but if you’re looking for good news read the sports page,’ I believe him. Because sports is all about heroes,” Cortez continues, “Hopefully we’ll be there covering the next ones coming in.”

 Getting all the details, being creative and getting the story done in a rush-rush 20 minutes? Four words.

 It’s all worth it.

And that, kids, is how not to write an opening sports sentence, never mind if this IS MY FRIGGING BLOG and I am free to impose the literary rules by which entries here will be judged against.

Anyway, yes. As the curtains fall on 2006, every true-blue sports fan in the country will have to remember this year as the year Manny Pacquiao awoke that long-dead feeling of patriotism in all of us.

I was invited to write an article on Manny Pacquiao for the Sports Page, the annual publication of the Philippine Sportswriters Association. The invitation took me by surprise because I am usually invited to write basketball features for that magazine. Manny Pacquiao? He used to be the exclusive domain of Manila Bulletin’s Nick Giongco, known hereabouts as the Encyclopedia of Boxing and Boxing Writing.

It took about two seconds for the surprise to fade and for flattery to settle in. A few more seconds that faded and hubris set in. Hey, I am only human.

Right after pounding out the first line, though, pressure crept in, along with a text message that said that the venerable Ding Marcelo, the Manila Bulletin sports editor who was closing the magazine, was getting antsy as I had broken the deadline, the deadline extension and the please-give-me-one-more-chance-to-finish-the-article extension for my piece.

Anyway, since the Sports Page is a limited edition magazine and it has no website, I decided to post the story here. Hopefully, when I get the hard copies of the other stories in that magazine, I will be able to post them here, too.

For now, just read about Manny Pacquiao and why, as the year comes to a close, his name stands out as the one that made sports memorable for 2006.

THREE ROUNDS. One for every chapter of boxing’s most compelling trilogy to date.

The last of those rounds provided the defining snapshot of that storied rivalry: Manny Pacquiao unleashing a thunderous combination that rocked Erik Morales and sent him welded to the canvass. Manny Pacquiao drifting to a neutral corner while Erik Morales searched for something, anything, from his handlers.

And then Manny Pacquiao, his hands raised in the air, a boyish smile on his face while Erik Morales shrugged his head—a universal symbol of resignation, of conveying “I’ve had enough.”

With that, the curtains fell on the riveting rivalry that has held the boxing world in awe, one fought almost everywhere—the scales, the gym, the sports pages and the ring. And most likely, the curtains fell on Morales too.

Manny Pacquiao, on the other hand, affirmed his status as the world’s most exciting boxer to date.

“I was stronger than him, I was bigger than him,” Pacquiao told reporters from all over the world after the fight, one that had an entire Las Vegas distracted from the usual lights and lure of the world’s premiere gambling city.

Throughout the whole odyssey, that seemed to be the case.

In training camp, inside the Wild Card gym in Hollywood, Pacquiao was a relentless animal in practice. Combinations flew rapidly. Bags rocked at every punch he landed. And it almost seemed as if the rope would get frayed before he stopped skipping it.

Anyone who saw him would have had only one word to describe the way by which he trained: Voracious.

“You can’t stop him from training,” American trainer Freddie Roach said. “You tell him to spar five rounds, he goes for six. You tell him enough with the bags, he continues to hit them.”

At one point, Roach had to pull Pacquiao away from the bags to end a training session.

And he was always the bigger fighter.

Not just did he look like a healthier 129-pound super featherweight during the weigh-in, where Morales, the Mexican ring icon, looked like an “anorexic,” according to trainer Floyd Mayweather Sr., his image loomed even bigger.

Everywhere he went in Vegas, his entourage would rival that of a mafia godfather. When he hit the casino tables, he would be surrounded by people who would hold his jacket, his drink and a clutch bag crammed with greenbacks. In Los Angeles, when he would sit down to eat in a Thai restaurant, nobody else outside of his inner circle could eat there. It would be full to the very last seat.

The contrast could not have been sharper one post-fight evening at the Wynn hotel, where Pacquiao and Morales crossed paths one more time.

To get to Pacquiao, one had to wade through a thick crowd making up his posse.

On the other hand, Morales had a friend and his wife for company.

But his status is well-earned.

Pacquiao is big because he made himself that way. His muscles bulge when he flexes them because he trained long enough and hard enough to sculpt them that way. His personality is big because he sold himself perfectly as the glue that holds the country together, insisting that his goal whenever he steps up the ring is not only to floor his opponent in flamboyant fashion.

It is also to fuse, even for a moment, a country divided from every standpoint you look at it: Geographical. Social. Political.

“This is for my countrymen,” Pacquiao says almost as religiously as he trains with mitts with Roach.

And his countrymen embrace him as the hero they adore with a passion.

Crime, even, takes a holiday when Pacquiao fights. Everybody stops to watch.

About the only thing that hasn’t swelled so far is his ego.

Days before the fight against Oscar Larios in June, the Filipino ring icon surprised reporters when he told them how he sees himself every time he looks at the mirror.

“Not once have I thought of myself as a really good boxer,” said the 27-year-old Filipino boxing hero, drawing gasps from the people who listened to him during a press conference at the Discovery Suites.

“I’m just another boxer who prepares well and hard for every fight he gets into,” he said.

He may not think himself to be special. But he is far from ordinary too.

“When he puts on those gloves, he’s like a machine,” said Roach, who, after the Morales triumph, declared that Pacquiao is now the best fighter in the world pound-for-pound.

And he may just be. Once he gets rid of the distractions outside the ring and trims the number of people whose words he takes as advice.

The way he does in a fight, when all he listens to is Roach and Buboy Fernandez.

Stay out of the ropes. Keep the pressure up. Don’t quit the footwork. Pacquiao listened and obeyed with the single-mindedness of a warrior with everything to lose in this fight. Against Morales in the third fight, he never gave the Mexican god a chance to even breathe.

With his last flurry, Morales went down for good, just three seconds before a rest that could have allowed him to regroup. Or could it? Even the once-proud Aztec warrior, who would adamantly refuse to admit getting hurt in a fight, didn’t think so.

“For the first time in my career, I felt the power of my opponent. He would have gotten me sooner or later,” said Morales. He spoke through an interpreter and a few words may have been added here and there. But the look of defeat in his eyes told you that in any language, the meaning would not have been lost in translation: “He’s that good.”

So good that when people watch him even just in sparring sessions, their jaws drop and are reduced to muttering “oh my God.”

Not quite, but close enough.

That’s how he is revered in the country. With religious fanaticism. He represents the hope that every bakery errand boy in this country has a future that includes driving two-door Mercedes Benz’s or Porsches.

And with every fight, every punch, every triumph, he adds to that myth, to that inspiration.

Three rounds. One for every page of a compelling rivalry. That’s all it took for Pacquiao to add another layer of god-like aura about him. He didn’t do it simply with the victory. And not just by raising his arms to acknowledge the rabid crowd at the Thomas and Mack Center.

He did it by doing what none before him has ever done. With three seconds before a chance to regroup, he forced a legend down to the floor. Down to the abyss of his career. He forced a proud warrior to look at his corner searching for something, anything, that would save him from this humiliation.

He gave that legend nothing to hold on to. Manny Pacquiao forced Erik Morales to the end of the road, to where fighters never return from. To that point where all you can do is shrug your head in defeat and say “I’ve had enough.”

If I were Pat Riley, I’d curl my hair, sport an afro ‘do and trade my sleek Armanis for a track suit.

If I were Kevin Garnett, I’d start sulking in one corner and refuse to play until I have my little request completed.

Allen Iverson is on the trading block and I would do everything to make sure his next uniform will be that of my team.

Forget the tattoos. Look past the corn rows. Never mind that he has dueled with coaches before. He hates practice? Who cares?

Allen Iverson is the one player who checks into every NBA game with one thing in mind. Win.

He defends with the tenacity of a wild animal guarding marked territory. He takes over games offensively the way Michael Jordan once did. He plays with a passion that would make the most ardent lovers look boring.

He’s a headcase?

He’s misunderstood.

Allen Iverson wanted a trade out of Philadelphia not because he could no longer stand the rules that seemed to stifle his personality. He wanted a trade out of Philadelphia because the rules that stifled his personality did not work towards the 76ers goal of winning an NBA trophy.

Now, the 6-0 guard out or Georgetown has a shot at finding a place where he can fill that one last blank in his storied 201 file.

An NBA ring.

He can get it in the next team he joins. Guaranteed. For as long as certain conditions are met. One, that the team had gone to the playoffs last year and either made it all the way, made it deep, or was booted out only after a struggle against a tougher, higher-seeded opponent that had more material than it had. Two, that the team doesn’t have to shell out too much material to acquire him.

Or, he can take the next team he plays for to the playoffs, stay there two more years and wait for it to develop into a championship contender.

Like New York for instance.

Iverson’s work ethic (okay, okay, I’m referring to games, not practices) is a perfect fit in a blue-collar  New York fan base that’s sick and tired of watching Thomas trying to build a championship-caliber squad akin to the City’s beloved Yankees—by ballooning the payroll to proportions so sinful, a priest would cross himself at the sight of it.

Here’s the problem: The Knicks do not have contracts enough to convince the Sixers to deal with them, just long-term pacts that would cram any team’s salary cap and make it face luxury tax problems. But it doesn’t take a stadium-full of accountants to figure out a solution to that problem. Buy them off.

Buy off the contracts of Steve Francis and Stephen Marbury, two Iverson-sized guards with Iverson-sized egos and games the size of Iverson’s nuts. Keep the young big men, deal off the rest of the roster and add AI to the mix.

Pat Riley has already voiced his interest. And the Heat will definitely improve on its chances to repeat if AI’s around.

Magic Johnson sees a problem here:

“You still got Shaq, you still got Wade. Then he comes in,” the wires quoted Johnson, 47, as telling reporters Thursday before  addressing high school students in the Bronx as part of a campaign to raise awareness about HIV/AIDS.

 “It’s going to be a tough situation because he’s used to taking 30 shots a game. He’s not going to get 30 shots. So will he accept that? And will the other guys accept him being there and dominating the ball, because Allen still needs the ball to be effective.”    

Hello. For all the accolades about him making his teammates better, Magic Johnson also needed the ball to be effective.

You think Shaq will veto any decision to bring AI in? You think AI, once wearing a Heat uniform, will mind stepping aside and let Wade do his thing first? For a chance to get out of Philadelphia and play for a team that will appreciate his presence and put him in a position to win an NBA ring, Iverson would gladly suffer Gary Payton’s loud mouth.

Kevin Garnett, who once hinted that the Timberwolves need another star to help carry the team into the promised land, need not look far.

Iverson’s a better sidekick than Ricky Davis, the ex-Boston Celtics guard whose offensive skills are shadowed by his tantrums.

See, Iverson has got tantrums, too. But his game talks more than his temper does. And he has a passion for winning. Remember that only one person actually volunteered for a slot at the US national squad that finished third in the last World Championships.

Right now, every team in the NBA not wearing a Dallas or San Antonio uniform needs help. And in a fitting twist of fate, The Answer is right out there.

Go grab him now. Ask questions later.