The Fast and the Furious!—Their tales, success and struggles...and the last ride together

When their run is no longer fast and fury is only in the mind, the reminiscent past bore the glare of what used to be the greatest scene at the fast break. The dizzying and blitzing to and from that kicked in the heartbeat relentlessly. The grace and ruthlessness combined of their high-octane  offense left their trail ablaze and kept us drowned off the fire it sparked. For as long as one local hoopster could muster, the memories of what was once the best running mates that lorded it over, it's only a matter of time till we will be making poetries and songs for the explosive and exploitative "Fast and the Furious".

Jayjay Helterbrand and Mark Caguioa are all heart and soul. Diminutive yet fleeting. Reckless yet full of grace. The one displays the coolness of ice, the other exudes the breathe of the dragon. Together, they wrecked havoc like no other pair did. They have the swag straight outta Eagle Rock, Los Angeles that thrusted them into the limelight. They're nasty and maangas, it would seem to feel that their confidence runs as fast and furious as they do on the court. They have enamored the millions of basketball fans because they have,  and it was never fate nor byproduct of marketing machinations that catapulted them to it. They became household names and the glitz and the fad they brought akin to that Allen Iverson's hip-hop invasion in the NBA was notably era-defining that drove crazy fans to the filled rafters of each league venue. PBA was never the same again.

Helterbrand and Caguioa are both champions and heartbreak kids of the league and this authenticity made their lore even worthy of exploration. Together, they transcended the league like no other backcourt pair ever achieved. On a regular basis, we see generational players come but they do as an individual. Never seen was a duo that while individually great, a synergetic bond seemed to make them doubly spectacular. Together, they created a harmony in the mold of Simon and Garfunkel. Never in the history of the PBA that a backcourt tandem of 15 years of partnership would take an MVP award for each other while incessantly bucking the changes that beleaguered their team. 

Fans, some of them have grown impatient and seen shifting allegiance. The hardcores, perhaps those that were rooted since the Jaworski era remained—but not without the pain. Not without the cost of frustrated years and humiliation from the ever jeering league minorities. Kangkong, yes the water plant, made it to the Ginebra lore albeit unceremoniously. All these years, the salt rubbed on the wounds of Caguioa and Helterbrand only grew much harder to suck up. Helpless and dazed while father time inching by the day, such insufferable moments brought more questions than answers to their leadership.

But most of the fans remained, mostly waiting for the Kings, for the Fast and Furious to become relevant again. The changing of personnel surrounding the two happened rather quickly and in succession. "Kami na lang natira!" Caguioa exclaimed, much like lamenting that as holdovers, the two find it hard to get the perfect blend that made them successful before. They brought in pieces that they embraced wholeheartedly—even if it meant the realization that this team slowly slips from their cudgels. But both never cared, they wanted to win as a benchwarmer than top score as a bottom-feeder. 

That game 5 decider between Ginebra Gin Kings and the San Miguel Beermen will be best remembered not for its sheer vindication that indeed the crowd-favorite is back to its elite status, but for its touching scene where Caguioa and Helterbrand hugged at midcourt. It was nothing new, at every basket they made during their heydays, hugs and high fives seemed to punctuate the spectacle of their on-court exploits. As the cameras closed in to extract this moving scene shared by the tandem no less, it is pure emotions brimming for explosion any moment and it was best shared with the predominant Ginebra crowd who with them gutted it all out so many fruitless years. In what could be the few remaining instance we will ever see them on the court, flashes of bandanas in the heads, blonde and mohawk speedsters used to run over the competition in utter obliteration. And just so much affection to the dynamic duo that is due for a curtain call.

Caguioa and Helterbrand will vie for the crown—perhaps for the last time together. It may not be theirs to carry it seemed, as new breeds of the Gin Kings already leading them on the regular. But them to be crowned in front of the horde of Ginebra fanatics would touch nerves and emotions again. The crown that eluded them after some successes at the helm. For some, the fast and the furious has stayed too long and it would seem that it hurts us seeing them unable to run at the break like we were pampered to see. But we would weep in the height of emotions nonetheless, to see them pocket another crown at the tail end of their illustrious career.

This Finals duel between the crowd-darlings Barangay Ginebra Kings and the Meralco Bolts will sideshow perhaps the last duel amongst the finest guards of the early 2000's. Caguioa, Helterbrand and Jimmy Alapag all figured prominently during the past decade and it will be an epic scene to see them go at it for the last time. Alapag will be enshrined in the legendary annals of PBA when he decides to hang it up just like his two fierce rivals. Before Alapag stabbed the hearts of the likes of JJ Barea and those Korean sharpshooters in the international scene, one must remember that he had to go through Mark and Jayjay in the PBA. The competition they presented made Alapag such skilled and ruthless playmaker. 

Perhaps, at any part of this championship series we may see the checkpoint for both Caguioa and Helterbrand ala Toretto (Vin Diesel) and O'Conner (Paul Walker) at the end of FF7. The former stayed course while the latter took the other direction. In the momentous revisit of the car chase and mileage, fast breaks and long bombs, the basketball rendition of this movie franchise could never ran out of allegory to share—not even their endings were spared.

"One last ride!" Says Helterbrand, "Just like the movies!" 

And to here, the musn't missed final lap for "The Fast and the Furious" deserves every waning second to be witnessed by all that rode with them.

The dawning of the new Ginebra

Back in the glorious days of the Jaworski era, the common "tao" are seen incensed with fanaticism only explainable with a compelling history of resiliency, of utter disregard to physical limit engulfed by the fighting spirit well-associated to legendary action heroes. The histrionics it presented in a way defined the social perspective of the time—the upper class that held proprieties to the letter are disgusted with them, but the toiling masses had seen in them the reflection of their own struggle. And by glorious, I didn't mean the influx of championship hardwares the way of the people's team, rather, the grit amid the glitz of the glorious run-and-gun Ginebra squad led no less by the Philippine basketball iconoclast Robert Jaworski was what made the Philippine Basketball Association (PBA) the number one pastime in the country on the pre- social media era. 

The Ginebra of old wasn't the winningest out there (and nothing had changed) except perhaps during the reign of Menk-Caguioa-Helterbrand where they put the Gin Kings on the pinnacle of Philippine Basketball for a brief period of time (4 titles in 4 years). The Ginebra in retrospect is a team composed of has beens and unheralded. Some played trying to squeeze every remaining juice they have after their illustrious playing years had pan out. Some played on a borrowed time for the opportunity to rub elbows with the firebrand Jaworski in hope to share the same limelight. They were an outcast from the glamorous and powers-that-be of pro basketball.

 But they were loved. They were expected to lose on a nightly basis but they were expected to fight nonetheless. They weren't short of the passion and flair and the nightly supply of Jaworski antics that none of the current crop of coaches could ever exude—they are the crowd darlings without the actual winning tradition. They are the benchmark of popular idolatry while fielding bench quality of players. Bal David, the gangling playmaker they call The Flash was one of their superstars. A year before he entered the PBA, he was drafted on the third round and was even left unsigned. But David, and like the rest of the unheralded pro ballers, all they ever needed was to don the Ginebra colors and let the infectious Jaworski fighting spirit catapult them to greatness.

Ginebra as a brand is linked to the underdog tag and has totally predefined its magnetic appeal from the masses. In a done to death way, the masses would always love their very own—always on the side of the underdog that is expected to lose—but it's expected to fight nonetheless before they are to eventually succumb. And it worked that way! Fans loved the scriptwriting for the resident heartbreak kid no matter the failed results. Sure, it could tease on occasional instances on championships. But it sure as hell that every crown they'll win goes down on the most memorable championship series PBA will ever collect. The Rudy Distrito off balance  that put the 1-3 disadvantaged Ginebra to the best ever comeback in the history of basketball championship. The Chris King–less Gordon's Gin that won it all led by a red hot Pido Jarencio and grizzly Terry Saldaña were all basketball memories that solidified the faith of the mammoth fanbase of Ginebra that carried over to the next generation of the never-say-die stalwarts. See these former Ginebra players wouldn't even need to crack the PBA's greatest, but what they can always boast that not most members of PBA's greatest could ever be is them belonging to that great Ginebra lore.

The never-say-die mantra was created on the mere act of defiance, of standing up to the insurmountable challenge, and for mustering the limited strength and talent to mount a fighting comeback on a regular basis. It wasn't rocket science—there wasn't any science at all! Some may call it desperation, but isn't character is best defined when faced with great adversity? That memorable Jaworski comeback after getting elbowed in the lip led a furious comeback against Northern Consolidated Cement back in the early 80's couldn't best exemplified it more to say what never-say-die was really all about. 

Through the years, Ginebra has grown accustomed as the premier attraction of the league bar none. Even after Jaworski's departure, Ginebra has grown enough on its own that the name recall will always amount to something 'palaban'. There seemed to be that undying mystique that a player may want to give it all on a regular basis despite the odds they're up against. It is as if that the player that you are amounts to nothing if by playing as a Ginebra, the only thing that mattered to you is never-say-die.

Just as Mark Zuckerberg turned Facebook as the social media platform that changed the mass media, and so did fans's approach and understanding of the game. Fans would now have a venue to vent their frustrations in every losing night. They will have people sharing the same frustrations and they will breed bashers that would compound the said frustration. It has grown into a tiring endeavor to defend the never-say-die when it's already dead when dying is just about to take place. It became hard to be rambunctious, it became hard to show swag when all we've seen was the figurative relegation to the 'kangkungan'. Suddenly, you started to question things—a lot of those that are not even worth questioning just because as the loses keep piling up, the ridicule and bashing seemed only gotten harsher and bolder for each and every season. 

For each fruitless season Ginebra has gone through since winning its last championship way back 2008, the scapegoat for the failures is always the coach—or the coaching staff at large. In theory, the reasoning of the failed campaigns are attributed to the system implemented by the coach at the helm, thus, it is being replaced as soon as it fails. At the very beginning, they had Jong Uichico ang Siot Tangquincen—both are proven champions but found themselves at the mercy of experimentation of the management. There was a time when they were designated as co-coaches of Ginebra, which accounted to the confusing dynamics of team leadership because while they are protégés of the same brilliant tactician in Ron Jacobs, they are seen with differing styles and approaches to the game. It was just a matter of time before things had fallen apart and the inevitable departure of Uichico and Tangquincen set the tone for the 'rigodon' of succeeding coaches that more seemed viewed to be coach OJT-ers. Ginebra became the haven (or graveyard) of aspiring coaches for a hit or miss gig. They were expected to lay the team's philosophy and then get undercut for another one to be installed.

Entering the PBA's 41st season, the San Miguel Corporation teams are given expectations based on a general consensus of their past season's performance. San Miguel Beer, the conglomerate's flagship franchise is being challenged to have their second grand slam in their fabled history after winning two titles in the just-concluded season. Purefoods Star Hotshots is a team that is expected to rebound after coming up short after winning a grand slam of their own two seasons ago. And Ginebra? Well they just did the unexpected.

Citing the fans's clamor for a turnaround, Ramon Ang ordered the transfer of Tim Cone to Ginebra in hope to bring Cone's unscathed winning ways to the Gin Kings. The man responsible to many of the Ginebra heart breaks. The dominant winner that made the crowd darlings always the underdog challenger. The forever foil to every success road map of Ginebra is set to become the head in its helm.  

Earl Timothy Cone, an American that grew up in the Philippine soil was a basketball fanatic of its truest of sense. He is a self-proclaimed Jaworski fanatic growing up. And when he was old enough, he became a self–taught bench tactician of the highest order. He was one diligent student of the game. But unlike his idol Jaworski, Cone relied on the burgeoning scientific approach to game during his formative years as a coach that's being drumbeat all throughout the sporting world. His twitter account description reads: Tex Winter protégé, True Triangle guy. The success of the Chicago Bulls in the 90's and the LA Lakers in the new millennium only emboldened Cone to make the triangle offense as the anti–thesis for all the fun and excitement the run-and-gun and most of the offenses that relied on on-court smarts. For him, passion and resiliency isn't enough. For him, being a great motivator can help you start things but never to finish it off. For him, high basketball IQ won't translate to wins. For him, there's always a systematic way in assembling a winning offensive and dismantling an opponent's defense. 

Yet Cone understood that his genius is under appreciated. No matter how he piles up on the championship trophies being the winningest coach in the PBA, he understood that winning more won't be the zenith to reach for his illustrious career. It's understandable that the transfer to Ginebra has brought him a different level of achievement. A satisfaction to be for once, he gets the cheer of the crowd instead of the jeer. The victories and critical acclaim all but enshrined him to the levels only enjoyed by few because the backing of the masses eluded him. He will win, and this time around, it won't be against popular acclaim. And this is his one great chance to rewrite the legacy of his career that despite of the accolades, it felt to be in need of more things. In the NBA, you will see great players transfer to competitive teams even if it meant lesser contract value or playing time just to get a shot at an elusive championship. In Cone's case, what's elusive on him was the backing of the majority, the support of a barangay that gratified to no end a lot of accomplished coaches–even if none of them has the amount of titles Cone has ever won all throughout. Cone understood all of these, that's why even if he's done a great deal of success with the second most popular team in Purefoods, the greatest coaching stint will always be the chance to lead Ginebra. 

But how he will turn things around to this moribund, insufferable Ginebra?

He will. 

He will and change will be conspicuous it will reshape the entire Ginebra brand. He will put winning as a staple requirement not just as a lip service. He will make the aggression a 'controlled aggression' ones. He will make you listen to just one voice, not like the customary multiple voices a player hears in a usual Ginebra timeout as if suffering from hallucination. He will reformat the overly loaded and crowded coaching dynamics that did more harm than good.

He will, but not overnight.

Because the entire Ginebra organization is a huge mess that it'll probably need a dozen of Tim Cones to get it stabilized. Ginebra were winners in the Jaworski era even if it looked like a bunch of players on the minimum wages. The Ginebra of today is a collection of stars that doesn't align on a constellation. With an ensemble of coaching staff that butt heads more often, they change systems more frequent than Kim Kardashian change sex partners. 

Will Ginebra utter never-say-die yet again?

Well the question really is, is Ginebra going to be a never-say-die team again? With Cone at the helm, it's hard to imagine a team under his watch become a restless, disorganized crew that would allow a situation for them to run wild and scamper. The Ginebra era will unfold on our very eyes–rebirth with an entirely different identity. A complete transformation will allow us to ponder if the Ginebra fans are ready to move on and shed off the underdog tag. Ginebra isn't exactly your league's whipping boy, but opponents like Rain or Shine coach Yeng Guiao couldn't put it more succinctly by saying, "They (Ginebra) will become scary again." And that's how he and together  with the rest of the league have perceived the crowd darlings. 

What affronts Ginebra now is the change for the better. They will shed off the old ways which could leave a lot of fans with bitter after taste. But they will win. And when you win, you'll soon forget how the change was hard to process at the beginning.  They will win and soon enough the throng of fans that seemed disillusioned for the past seasons will assume that Ginebra pride once again—then as a fighter, now as a winner. Like a hermit in hiatus, they will come out once again to fill the rafters of the coliseum that they temporarily abandoned in sending this message to the Ginebra management. Soon enough, it will put a new dimension to the derision of being a 'Kangkong' as something remolded into a fine dish that is ought to be. This past PBA season proved that where Ginebra becomes irrelevant, the league suffers. A dip in attendance and TV ratings only goes to show that Ginebra owes it to all of Filipino basketball fans to become significant again. Cone understood all of these, and to understand all of these takes such cerebral skills to take this challenge and knowingly recognize that to complete his evolution as a coach. As for Ginebra, this transformation is long overdue and if it's wary of the fans reacting to the change, it must figure a way first to accept it within because their resolve, adaptability and reception will usher the new Ginebra to unlimited possibilities with a winner like Cone leading and shaping it. 

Never-say-die will now be never-shall-die

FFUgay

(image copied from google)

Cheering for Eric Menk

(A long time fan here of former Brgy. Ginebra superstar, Eric Menk. This short story chronicling the career of the one and only Major Pain brings us back to the beginning of the journey that was nothing short of twists and turns. As one of my favorite basketball heroes that grew before my eyes, I have mustered as much recollection to put into a blog how a basketball hero led an invasion of sort yet on his own vulnerability and enigma, continued to be tested to prove his rightful place in the history of local hoops. Enjoy!)

The year was 1999, Tanduay Rhum Masters, after years of domination on the semi-pro league in this basketball-crazy country decided to test the mettle of the real pro league—the PBA (Philippine Basketball Association). The Lucio Tan-sponsored squad could no longer find real competition from the now defunct PBL (Philippine Basketball League) back then so it was naturalmente for them to move up and find the men among the boys. What with a team loaded with college superstars and proven winners, then Rhum Masters coach Al Francis Chua knew that it was time for them to slug it out and conquer new heights.

Such confidence though didn’t spring out of the youth talent Chua has at his disposal. One thing that he thought could make them a competitive crew against the formidable and tested skill-level of pro basketball doesn’t come from the potentials of his young rookies. He is assured that they can contend, even try to win it all at their maiden season back to the PBA (Tanduay was one of the pioneering teams in the league when it started in 1975) not because the team he has, consisted of shoo-in first rounders if and when they decided to enter the draft of that same year could make then current PBA teams a better force to reckon with. The affable mentor knew exactly how they could realize those prospects—or projects if you may. He had then that reason these all weren’t just flash in the pan. He had Eric Menk.

Eric Menk was the first rookie/MVP awardee of the PBL, his arrival to Tanduay was nothing less than a validation of their supremacy amongst other commercial teams. Since Menk came to town, the former Lake Superior State University alumnus carried Tanduay to consecutive finals stint while developing assortment of skills from long jumpers to spin moves towards the basket (Menk, during his prime, has the quickest spin move for a forward/center the league has ever seen). For a power forward at 6’5, he towers most of his competition and with frame so thick and so chiseled that pushing him so hard will be a futile undertaking.  Much has been said about his pronounced dominance and legendary work-ethics as Major Pain burst into the scene of Philippine basketball. I for one, then as a high schooler who was starting to love the game in a much methodical sense, started to follow his games on TV. Even his much-publicized rivalry with Asi Taulava in the PBL, with which Menk won with regularity just added to the gem of a career start Menk has enjoyed. Pundits were quick to affirm that it’s just a matter of time that he’ll soon revolutionize the way big man play in the PBA.

When Tanduay Rhum Masters finalized their inclusion as the 9^th team of PBA in 1999, they were told they could bring six of their players to the big league. It was an understatement who will lead the group as they move up to the pros, it was no brainer that Menk will be at the centerpiece of their invasion. Sure, a dude named Sonny Alvarado (whom they picked first overall on the draft of that same year) made headlines as well and threatened to take away his role to the team, but as if he wasn’t bothered at all he co-existed and was even named Best Player of the Conference (All-Filipino Cup, 1999) right on his first conference which eventually led the rookie team to the finals against Benjie Paras-led Formula Shell. Later, Alvarado departed from our consciousness after him unable to prove his Filipino roots.

I was so engrossed how Menk played ball, he wasn’t your typical athletic monster who would wreak havoc and exude the craziness and vulgarity usually infused with such gifts. He was just pure hard work, ever so calculating and even so focused that you might think of his every programmable action has its own précised results. And there where the confusion started happening. I am a die hard Ginebra fan. So I found myself rooting for my favorite team while cheering for an individual so awe-inspiring that I didn’t mind him dropping 30+ points and 20+ rebounds each time Ginebra and Tanduay played against one another. And truth be told, as it didn’t look so possible back then, that I wished Menk could be traded to Ginebra even if it meant losing some of my favorite players from the team.

And then the unthinkable happened.

Flurry of controversies shrouded the so-called Fil-Am invasion in the PBA. Not a few of these blue chip rookies were deported due to either unproven lineage or falsified papers. Eric Menk, being at the center of the storm, faced countless suspension from the games and banned at some point by the PBA with Philippine Senate putting them under scrutiny as they probed the legitimacy of their Filipino descent. It came to a point where the games they’ve won were forfeited and chances at playing at the higher rounds of the tournament were put to zilch. Menk was so close to kiss his PBA career goodbye. A career with so much to conquer was at the mercy of being cut short—one can imagine the thoughts prowling with this baller who’s just about to give everything he had.

The controversy died a natural death. Not because mass media stopped talking about it, but partly for all the Fil-Ams that remained, there were proofs of roots which later on corroborated with documents. And as if Menk, of course to an extent, Asi Taulava, had to prove their patriotism by volunteering to play on international tilts to say that they belong to the league in as much as the homegrown ballers deserved a spot to the basketball myths of the country. Menk moved on, so did the rest of the league. And perhaps the basketball gods may have heard my ritual pleading, Menk was traded to Ginebra just before Tanduay left the league for good.

So the revitalized Menk took the Gin Kings to the upper echelons of PBA like a man on a mission. Complementing his inside dominance is the emergence of the backcourt tandem of Mark Caguioa and JayJay Helterbrand whom sports analysts fittingly dubbed “The Fast and The Furious”. The three of them formed the monarchial triumvirate that put Ginebra to relevance once again. It was that period where these three Kings put pride and winning tradition above all—happy days were indeed the stamp of the Menk-Caguioa-Helterbrand era. It wasn’t far fetched from every Ginebra diehard that one day, we’ll see them facing the crowd while raising their retired jersey numbers on the rafters of Araneta Coliseum.

Their reign, however blissful, and like any other period of dominance, was pestered with hitches on their ascent to greatness. Injuries to the players kept them from their conquests. Ever so often, none of the key players were able to complete a season without battles with health. Age, if anything, only intensified the regressing explosiveness of some of its vital cogs. And just when you thought Menk’s nationality issues had been already dug six feet under, alas, like a fabled phoenix that rose from the ashes, chased him once again which ultimately stumped the growing legend of his. Menk’s coronation as the King of PBA came about during the 2004-05 season during which he led Ginebra to back-to-back championships. Yet even that didn’t escape another revisit at disgrace, the only player in recent memory to win MVP while serving suspension (for the nth time) from the league—still with nagging citizenship issues.

I really thought it was his turn to dominate the league for a long period of time. Much like Alvin Patrimonio of the 90’s, I had really hoped for as much longevity for him if not better giving weight to the talent that he had. Sure, he had much stronger competition to start with; sure other Fil-Am superstars like Taulava and Danny Seigle could make a strong case out of themselves. But Menk was, at least for Ginebra, which historically being the most popular/populous team bar none is the de facto king of the kingmakers. While his peers may have a better overall skill level, he has a barangay right behind him—something that others could only wish to enjoy (ever wonder why Asi was hell-bent to be part of Ginebra before he retires?). After seasons and seasons of continued frustration, battling injuries and seeing his role to the team diminished like a receding hairline, I sensed that we’ve probably seen the best years of Menk. Yet as a fan, I somewhat hoped that he only needed to get healthy, compete and if still good enough, help Ginebra to consistently become successful. We knew how it went from there yet on occasions, especially on times that it most mattered, Menk would display flashes of brilliance—maybe to remind us of what was once the Major Pain of the PBA. He continued to languish on the far end of Ginebra bench, contented on spot on roles to provide veteran savvy. He eventually moved to ABL (ASEAN Basketball League) and even there continued to be a shell of his old self.

For the past months, the rumor mill endlessly weaved stories of Menk’s imminent return to the PBA. It was more so stressed on the last Governor’s Cup where the need of the team for an inside operator was in a way couldn’t have been more visible. Opposing teams had very much abused this chink in the armor of the guard-heavy Ginebra. I was thrilled on the possibility of him returning to the fold. But I only manage expectations when it matters, so my anticipation of him coming back is for mere theatrics, only to fashion out a scene ala-Lord of the Rings (Return of the King). After all, the king in exile could only yearn to spend the dwindling days with the team that crowned him and catapulted his career to what it was. It would only be fitting if Menk is due for a swan song, that for the last games that he can play, that he could be given his moments to cherish every history of his number 30 red and white jersey. Sure, the Gin Kings have some serious order of battle to fulfill and sideshows like this may be least of their agenda. But isn’t this what makes the sports here truly a fascinating part of our lives? That the personal stories are what make us relate more to the sport? And needless to say that Ginebra’s own popularity is loosely based on this same old cult of personality.

Lo and behold, Menk returned to the PBA to play for Global Port Batang Pier. Menk was signed to a one-year contract to provide leadership and mentor the young big men of the team. Real or perceived, the intervening events could not be stopped from thwarting a supposed perfect script. Or maybe, this is exactly the perfect scripting that befits Menk’s career—a send-off consistent to what has been a roller-coaster career. Devoid of Hollywood ending. 

When the new PBA season opens in a few days from now, it ought to be that same old, weird feeling again. I’d be anticipating the Kings parade their red and black armor as they begin to reclaim the throne as expectation for this season shoots to an all-time high. On my peripheral vision though, I’d be looking at that man, that former MVP who forever changed my perception of basketball. I never harbored thoughts of him wearing a different color outside of the red-white-black never-say-die jersey but we get fucked up in life much worse than this. Last time Ginebra won a championship, it was that same guy, the supposedly over-the-hill Eric “Major Pain” Menk performed the best among all of them, sharing Finals MVP honors with Ronald Tubid. In hindsight, the Fast and the Furious’ blaze to prominence could never be that possible if not of Menk’s motor, his insatiable knack in collaring the rebounds thus propelled the Kings to greater heights. His imposing presence carved the way for the best backcourt tandem for the past decade (Come on and disagree, I have endless of reason to support the claim) to terrorize at the fastbreak.

As the coming years may we see the last of Eric Menk on a professional basketball game, I would want to vividly remember him as the King that ruled us all.