by Christine Bader

A typically hot and humid Tuesday night in Manila. Reiner P., son of my mom's college classmate, picks me up for a doubleheader at the Cuneta Astrodome. The night's match-ups feature the Pop Cola 800s vs. the Formula Shell Zoom Masters at 5:15 p.m. followed by the San Miguel Beermen vs. the Gordon's Gin Boars at 7:30. (Other teams in the league are the Santa Lucia Realtors, the Purefoods Beefies, and the Alaska Milkmen. Clearly corporate sponsorship has caught on even faster in the Philippines. Can you imagine the Absolut Knicks vs. the Budweiser Bulls? Although we do have plenty of sponsored arenas … Anyway…)

On the way to the Astrodome, Reiner accidentally runs a red light. One of Manila's Finest waves us over and approaches the car. My first encounter with the Philippine police force (and last, if you're wondering), I'm readying my video camera in case they live up to their reputation. Reiner slips him a 50 peso bill (about $1.25); the cop reprimands him and sends us on our way.

We arrive at the Astrodome, a nondescript building on Roxas Boulevard next to Manila Bay. As we leave the parking lot, a scalper approaches with VIP Courtside Row B seats, face value 220p each. He's offering them for 550p each; Reiner buys the pair for 1000p, about $25.

We walk into one of the gates and are frisked by a security officer, standard procedure in Manila, where museums and restaurants post signs asking patrons to check their firearms at the door. We settle into the vinyl-covered seats which are, indeed, second row courtside, practically at mid-court.

Vendors are circling the stadium, sucking their teeth instead of shouting to hawk their chips, cookies, hot dogs, ice cream, water, juice, soda. (Um, where's the beer?) One small Jumbotron is near the ceiling at one end of the stadium; the camera is on and unattended, focused on the legs of the scorer's table.

The players come out to warm up for the first game. A smattering of applause. Most guys look to be between 5'10" and 6'8", with a few shorter point guards. This three-month season is the All-Filipino Cup; after the play-offs and a two-week break is the Commissioner's Cup, which features the same teams, but each is allowed one "import" no taller than 6'8". No one could explain to me how they determine eligibility. Genealogy checks? Citizenship? Do they ask to meet your parents? In any case, I finally find half-Filipinos who look less Filipino than I do. Three or four are half African-American, products of the former U.S. military presence here, I'm told. Some went to college in the states, ‘though none to hoops powerhouses.

While the players are warming up, one of the vendors stops next to me: "Autograph?" Sorry, I'm not signing any tonight. No, dummy, he's offering to get you one of the players' autographs, presumably for a small fee. Oh, no thanks. A minute later a fan goes courtside and asks one of the players to sign his program, which he does. Yet another scam avoided by the foreigner.

As the arena starts to fill up, an American man wearing a Hard Rock Café polo shirt squeezes by us. "Pain in the ass, isn't it?" he says to me as he maneuvers his sizable butt along the row. (There are very few aisles, and the rows are quite narrow.) "I know, the Garden isn't like this," I reply. "Yeah, no kiddin'," he chuckles and pats me on the shoulder.

Pop Cola and Shell are the two basement-dwellers of the season thus far. Shell features Noy Castillo, a much-touted Filipino-American who played for the Citadel and is supposed to be Shell's hope for the future. But Castillo is no match for Popster 1995 League MVP Vergel Meneses, a mustached man who makes a number of reverse lay-ups off of strong drives down the lane.

It's not bad ball; much above-the-rim action, solid if basic skills, and plenty of athleticism. There seem to be a high number of turnovers, usually from pressure on the point guard or players trying to force their way to the basket. They're better than, say, Amherst (?), maybe equivalent to an Ivy League team (Princeton of course excepting).

Across from us is the scorer's table. The announcer is at one end, a heavy-set Filipino man (one of the few; amazing, considering how people eat here) with the almost-perfect American accent typical of Filipino deejays. Next to him is the organist, who happily plays along with the action ("Axel F" and your standard organ fare). There is also music piped in over the loudspeakers during play that I find strange; either odd pop songs ("Heavy Cloud, No Rain" and "Walking on the Moon"?!) or loud, dramatic, overbearing soundtrack-type music. I am reminded of one writer's summary of the Philippines: "300 years of the church, 50 years of Hollywood." During time-outs and half-time, plenty of Jock Jams, with a mix of happy early 80's and current hits: the Go-Go's, Chumbawumba, etc.

During one time-out, a very effeminate man gets up and starts dancing; a few moments later, another very effeminate man across the stadium starts dancing as well, challenging the first man. This becomes a duel during every time-out, with the crowd cheering them on, and both men sitting down to fan themselves when play resumes.

The substitution horn sounds like someone is leaning on their Honda. I feel like I'm back in midtown. The Manila traffic is the worst I've ever experienced, but drivers are remarkably even-tempered and rarely emit more than a friendly "beep-beep."

Most players make the sign of the cross when they sub in; a few do the same before free throws or after crucial time-outs. Welcome to the only Christian country in Asia and an overwhelmingly one, at that. Pop Cola wins by 20 points.

We walk around the stadium between games. The narrow corridors are painted in drab pastels, and there are a few food stands: hot dogs, juice, fried chicken fingers. Um, where's the beer?! Isn't San Miguel one of the league sponsors? Sorry kid, no alcohol. Reiner and I each have a hot dog and a mango juice box. There's one woefully inadequate souvenir stand with t-shirts in one-size-fits-none, a few mediocre hats, and some cheesy mugs and posters. I consider coming back after graduate school to do a marketing overhaul.

For the second game, the stands are full and the bleachers overflowing with people much more typical of this overcrowded (14 million people?!) city. Gordon's Gin is by the far the league favorite, drawing sell-out crowds (approximately 8,000), and prompting many drivers of the jeeps that serve as public transportation to plaster their windows with posters of the team. (The driving here is so awful that decreased visibility couldn't do any more harm.) It's unclear to me why everyone loves Gordon's, since the teams have no geographic ties and player movement between teams is as great as it is in the States. Someone later explains to me that Gordon's established itself a few years ago as the working man's team with a "never say die" attitude.

Gordon's comes onto the floor to cheers and shrieks. The Boars are led by player-coach Robert Jaworski ("Jawo"), a popular candidate in the upcoming senatorial elections. Jawo apparently lives in my neighborhood, so cab drivers are always extremely excited to take me home. Robert Jr. is on the team as well. San Miguel features the hottest rookie of the league at the moment, Danny Ildefonso, who was drafted out of Ateneo de Manila University, the best academic college in the country. (Gordon's Gin and San Miguel Beer are, by the way, owned by the same parent company.)

There is a pretty even gender split in the stands. High-pitched screaming accompanies each scramble for a loose ball, each three-point shot as it flies towards the basket. Around the stadium, fans hold up shiny silk banners with their favorite player's name and number. No ratty cardboard signs here.

And no, no WPBA in the foreseeable future. The newspapers occasionally mention discussions about a women's league, but nothing seems to be coming of it. Needless to say, as soon as they announce training camp, I'm there.

There are the usual promos during time-outs and half-time: two kids have to put on oversized uniforms and make a lay-up; guys with giant slingshots shoot t-shirts into the stands; one guy wears a mini-hoop and gives audience members a chance to win a McDonald's mug. Of course they give me the ball (I tend to get noticed here), but my shot hits the left side of the rim. My favorite promo attaches two people by a long bungee cord; each has a ball and first to make a basket wins. The embarrassment factor will keep this one out of the States, but in the remarkably angst-free fun-loving Philippines, everyone laughs with the participants and all is well.

A few accent problems: "DEE-PENSE!!! DEE-PENSE!!!" And later: "Reiner, are they chanting Gordon's ‘Gee'?" "No, Gordon's ‘Gin.'" I see three European guys in the corridor smoking cigarettes between games, but aside from them, my Hard Rock friend, and the American owner of one of the teams, it's me and 8,000 Filipinos. In our VIP section, there seem to be two famous people next to us (an actress and a comedian, I later find out) who attract hoots and hollers when they appear on the Jumbotron, as well as when they ham it up for the interview with the dean of PBA sideline reporting.

Gordon's leads for most of the game, but the Beermen mount a stunning comeback. The last shot of regulation sees San Miguel go up for a long range jumper at the buzzer that hits for three points, sending the game into overtime. However, moments later, the replay shows that the player had his foot on the arc. Everyone in the stadium stands up, watches the replay again, and pedantically holds up two fingers to the referees, to no avail. This controversial turning point of the game makes neither the International nor American editions of Sportscenter (both of which are shown here, albeit at difficult hours).

There are at least two grandmothers in the stadium, watching intently with family members. During the second overtime, which has everyone on the edge of their seats, one of them makes her way across the front row painfully slowly, presumably to the ladies' room, accompanied by her young granddaughter. No one seems to mind. Gordon's pulls out the win by three.

I love this game!