Allan Abelgas - A Future PBA Superstar? (Sports Weekly, 1982)

Sports Weekly Magazine

November 19-26, 1982

Barry Pascua

 

 

            Allan Abelgas broke into the professional basketball circuit as unheralded as a mild breezed sweeping through an untested wilderness. That he was not like the breeze that tickled the yielding weeds and left all in a fraction of forty winks, Allan Abelgas came and stayed.

 

            To be frank about it, most PBA fans only knew Abelgas by his surname. Many kept on guessing what his first name was. But that wasn’t what made Abelgas popular. First name or no first name, he deserved closer scrutiny. After all, with the many big name amateur standouts in the N-Rich cast, fans were eager to discover Abelgas’ credentials. But Abelgas didn’t have to show them written records or video-taped testimonies to prove that he deserved inclusion in the N-Rich lineup. All he had to do was play.

 

            Indeed, Allan Abelgas merited a place in the Coffee Creamers’ camp. He is a court general and a shooting guard rolled into one. If he was taken in just to warm the bench, how could one explain his being utilized by coach Mariano more often than the other established guards?

 

            Allan Abelgas, 5’9, was born on June 30, 1959 in Cebu City to Larry Abelgas and the former Precy Pagusara. His father, a former radioman working for Cebu RPN 9, is now an Advertising Production man. Being the eldest of 10 kids (four boys and six girls), it seemed that Allan wouldn’t find time to sports activities. Any way you look at it, he’ll probably be preoccupied helping the parents take care of the younger kids – all nine of them. But somewhere, somehow, he and basketball forged a companionship destined to last for a long, long time. But he wasn’t alone when he decided to get into basketball. His grandfather, Ramon Pagusara, Sr. and his uncle, Rodolfo Gilig, a former Mariwasa standout during the old MICAA days, inspired him to play basketball. From then on came the rough road to recognition. For four years, he dribbled with the Eagles of Sacred Heart High School. The little know-how he possessed was enhanced by his coach, Manuel Baz.

 

            Allan proceeded to the Colegio de San Juan Recoletos, and played for the CSJR Jaguars while taking up BS Industrial Engineering. His playing style was polished by coach Manuel Baring, Sr. And the next thing is hard to believe. In a span of three years, 1980-1982, Alln won five MVP awards. He was truly a devastating cager in the Cebu Amateur Athletic Association (CAAA).

 

            When Orly Bauzon went scouting for players in Cebu, he spotted Allan during one CAAA game. And Orly knows star material when he sees one. “My Presto team in the MICAA was crippled as a result of most of my team turning pro. That’s why I had to scout for players. I went to Cebu and had the opportunity of watching a CAAA game. There, I saw Allan. I approached him and we talked about playing terms. He was supposed to play for my team in the Interclub early this year but he insisted on playing after graduation,” said Bauzon.

 

            “Allan has a different approach to basketball. He has a more matured style compared to his peers. He’s a good court general and a real pro inside and outside the court,” Orly added.

 

            Allan is a guy who gives more preference to his studies. For this was the deal he made with his parents. “At first, my parents objected to my extra-curricular activity. They didn’t want me to play basketball because it might come in conflict with my studies. But I assured them it would not. So they changed their minds and told me to go on,” recalls Allan.

 

            And so Allan waited for graduation day which came last April. After getting his diploma, he packed his bags and went to Manila only to discover that the MICAA was dead and N-Rich had no farm team. If it had happened to any other regular guy, it could have been a sob story. But it happened to Allan Abelgas and one couldn’t simply turn him away. He was made to practice with the PBA team and after four months, he got his release papers and debuted with league-leading Coffee Creamers.

 

            How does he feel now that he’s in the pro league? “I’m learning. Iba yung sa amateur. I’m still adjusting. I have, somehow, lost the confidence but I’m trying to regain it. Among the good players, you always tend to feel inferior. At any rate, everybody’s helping out,” Allan said with nary a trace of a Visayan accent. Allan added, “I’m just trying to find out what’s in store for me in basketball. If it’s not good, I’ll use my diploma. If it’s good, I’ll play until I’m 32.”

 

 

 

            Among his favorites in the PBA are Mike Bilbao for his coolness, Willie Generalao for his court generalship, Bernard Fabiosa for his quickness and Bogs Adornado for his shooting arm.

 

            Regarding his coach, Allan noted that “Mariano’s careful with his boys and he sees to it that he fields in the more conditioned ones.”

 

            In turn, Jimmy Mariano described Allan as “a young cager with a lot of promise, a potential superstar. I think the boy is really serious about his profession.”

 

            N-Rich skipper Joel Banal has also the same line. “He’s a compleat player. He has shooting, speed, defense, attitude and determination. Kaya lang, wala sa timing. Pero matututunan din niya yon. If he learns when to execute a shot or any basketball stance, he’ll be a more important player.”

 

            Allan is quite fortunate for he got the chance to play for N-Rich during of the team’s best seasons, and not during the doormat days. “I’ve seen this team from Great Taste to N-Rich. As N-Rich, it’s a much better team. At the rate things are shaping up, I think we have a good chance of copping the championship trophy. The CFC management is fully supporting the basketball team.”

 

            Allan Abelgas is having a good time in the hardcourt. Indeed, anyone playing for a league leading team would. For Allan, the best is yet to come. Nevertheless, slowly but surely, this man from Cebu, just like his predecessors, is making a name for himself in local basketball. And if only for his being from the south, Allan Abelgas, many are certain “Allan Abelgas will be a name to reckon with.”

The Secret of Toyota’s Success (Game, 1973)

Game Magazine

August, 1973

Arturo D. Cariaga

 

 

From a small flickering distant light, a comet grows to an intense bright flame illumining the heavens. This is how the Toyotas shone in the current MICAA games, proving that they deserve to be called the Comets.

 

They were the cellar-dwellrs in the Panamin tournament last summer and improved imperceptively during the Palaro. Such lackluster performances earned them virulent derision from the bleacher bullies. And when the MICAA season rolled in, the oddsmakers were quick to consign the Comets way behind older ball clubs like YCO, Mariwasa and San Miguel.

 

To everyone’s surprise, however the Toyotas put up a spirited campaign and entered every game like it was their last.

 

Smelling a secret behind their rapid rise, we sought, cajoled, cornered, baited, buttonholed, studied, befriended, spied on, raided, pleaded with, hounded, chassed, inveigled, intruded on, enticed, induced, observed, bothered, and (hingal!), brooded about the Toyotas. In the end found out that they had no secret at all, their success was due to only one factor: a strict regimen of physical fitness and round-the-clock program to improve their game.

Regular roadwork covering at least eight kilometers, weights, calisthenics, and practice scrimmages comprise one aspect of their training. They eat a protein and iron-rich diet, get adequate rest and sleep, and just enough relaxation.

 

They study their games, both as individual players and as a team, and regularly hold clinics with their coach and trainer. A video camera helps recall how they actually played against rival teams.

 

Although the value of individual skills is recognized, teamwork and cooperation are given emphasis. Either we win as a team or go down as a team seems to be the slogan of team coach, Nilo Verona.

 

But the crucial factor that determines the success of any team is the attitude of the players composing it. Do they really aspire to win, to improve their game? Do they relate well to one another so that the welfare of the entire team becomes more important than a single player’s glory? Are they inspired by the others, by their coach and their manager? Do they give the best of themselves everytime they step inside the court?

 

To know all these, we set out one evening to see the Toyotas in scrimmage and talked to some of their outstanding players.

 

Sludging along like the proverbial postman. Swing down Pasong Tamo Extension into a brand-new gym. Warm light of mercury vapor cascading from the rooftop and the shouts of men pouring their juices and strengths in a practice scrimmage.

 

Sonny Jaworski, Big Boy Reynoso and the younger Tino, Orly Bauzon, Mon Fernandez, Francis Arnaiz, Segura, Camus, Rodriguez, and the rest of the star-studded Toyota stable. Teams A and B. Mr. Dante Silverio watching with fond, kindly eyes. Coach Nilo Verona cocking his head to the right to catch a positioning error. Shouting instructions. “O.O, what kind of dee-fense is that?”

 

Despite the foul weather, a gaggle of fans watch the scrimmage. Eyes pop up as “Jawo” brings down the ball, fakes a shot, feeds to Arnaiz. A short dribble, a light bend of the knees to give power to the jump, a flick of the wrists, and the ball climbs up to the open mouth of the basket. Clap-clap-clap, respond the benchwarmers to Team A.

 

But Rodriguez inbounding – that fashionable word – throws a baseball pass to Segura at midcourt and Team B has a chance to even the score. Ompong rushes to the keyhole with Fernandez breathing at the back of his neck. Segura in a running jump and the jutting hand of Fernandez threatens a block. Segura shifts the ball from left hand to right, turns around in mid-air and lobs the ball in a hook shot that goes cleanly into the hoop. Clap-clap-clap goes the non-partisan bench.

 

The new Jaworski is evident even in the scrimmage among friends. Not as overeager and ball-hungry as in the Panamin series last summer, he is now feeding, assisting, directing the play, throwing a screen, pulling down the rebound, and otherwise behaving like he was the elder brother of the younger players on the team.

 

He is still as aggressive and rough as ever, hustling for the ball, harassing his man, staring down and wilting the defenses of the opposing team. But he seems to have found a new delight in feeding an open man under the board, and attempts a shot only if he has a clear chance.

 

Banking on his bulk and experience and a surprising style of heads-up basketball, Jawo is the morale-boosting superstar behind the meteoric rise of the Comets (if you’ll pardon that interstellar mixing of metaphors).

 

 

 

Back to the ball game. A barter of set plays and a literal pain in the neck brought about by too much looking up at the towering Toyotas. The scrimmage finally peglegs to a stop. Players start drifting to the open door while the others take a few more practice pops. Ompong has seen Lulu and comes over to say hello. Fort grabs the moment for some quotes, facts and figures.

 

Hovering near Francis. He consents to meet us the following day. Rene starts giving off bright ideas – from the flash gun mounted on the Nikon F. Rolly’s eyes focus on two comely girls just came in from the cold but decides against making a pitch. Two bucks jingling in his pocket.

 

Mr. Silverio, now alone on the court, showing ‘em how to sink in those shots. Counting his score. He converts about fifty percent of his attempts. Not bad.

 

Saturday. Take a cab from the Game den to San Lorenzo Village, listening all the way to the steady whirr and tsk-tsk-tsk of the meter. A modern contraption of fortune.

 

Comet quarters – stronghold of all but the married Toyotas – is a big Spanish-type house in a plush neighborhood of funeral quiet. One big hall. The sala merges with the dining room – one long table with 12 chairs, a smaller square table with four. A billiard table to the left. Kitchen doorway to the right, a clatter of pans, the smell of cooking. Also to the right, immediately as you come in, are steps leading to the bedrooms. Sit down on the sofa. Above you are wrought iron chandeliers looking heavy enough to bash in your brains and twelve blowups of the team members (kulang yata) and a bikinied girl enjoying Australian surf on a Qantas poster. Two TV sets, a stereo, two Daikin wall-type aircons, a white racer bike leaning on the hallway. Under the coffee table before you, looking like a limp rag, is a white Pekingese. Asleep.

 

After some minutes of tiddling our thumbs, we go back to the front porch. Take photos of Arnaiz bathed in sufficient light as soon as he arrives. But it is Fort who arrives first. Better late than never.

 

“I know now why they call us Press. We are always pressed for time.”

 

“Corny.”

 

“There he is. With Big Boy.”

 

“Hi, Francis.”

 

“Hi. Sorry. Did you wait very long?”

 

“It’s all right. Can we begin now?”

 

“Sure.”