After a strenuous push for funds during the final weeks leading up to PIBNA, coach Phibe and I finally raised enough money to get the boys to Canada. Our fund raising endeavors transformed us into makeshift vagrants, begging with hopes of bumping into a pseudo-philanthropist. But as hard as the coaching staff worked for financial stability, Bantam had worked just as hard on the basketball court. After a year of tests and preparation, the best time of the year finally approached us and we took our 15 passenger rental to depart from our beloved hometown.
Embarking on a trip consisting of an arduous 8 hour drive almost made me nauseous. Our journey to Canada was an interesting one to say the least. As we hit the highway I threw myself into a focused trance while driving. This allowed me to brace myself for the lengthy drive. But only an hour or so into the drive, I fell into a speed trap in NH. The son of a bitch trooper gave me a $100 ticket and I drove off angrily, but with much more caution. I managed to evade future highway speed traps from state troopers in two different states. We passed by one marked police vehicle parked on the side of the highway with the trooper inside sleeping with his hat over his face. If only I came across that trooper first. We crossed the border with relative ease and speed as there were no illegal immigrants in our vehicle. It also helps that my machine guns and hand grenades were well hidden. But once we entered Canada, the gps (thanks Mexican) decided that the eight drive should be extended into ten and a half hours. I was not suspicious because I was still in the zone (not a 2-3). At this point I became one with the vehicle, I was now the brain of this metallic machinery. It felt like I was an autobot except without the transforming abilities. Passing the ever-busy Montreal, I just wondered “How far is this damn city?” but I kept my focused. We headed west of Montreal and after 2 hours we apparently had to pass some true rural roads. Unpaved driving lanes (dirt and rocks) without a sign of street lights. My peripheral view was distracted by cornfields and farmhouses, and the passengers in the back started to name settings of horror films in the past; Jeepers Creepers, Children of the Corn, Wrong Turn, insert cheesy horror flick title here. We drove on these pre-constructed roads for roughly 45 minutes before I finally remembered that there were multiple choices for the street name that was our hotel address. When the woman’s voice that was our gps said “you have reached your destination” and I pulled up and looked to my right, the whole van grunted outloud their disbelief and tiresome complaints. It was an abandoned farmhouse with wooden boards covering the windows. The dilapidated building was brownish and honestly looked haunted by poltergeist from the unknown dimension. The nightmare had come true. We were lost in a foreign land with no idea how to pronounce the names of the streets, let alone reach our destination. As a reader, you can ONLY imagine my frustration. I was flustered with anger. From c-note speeding citations to farms possessed by cornfield spirits, what a way to start the weekend. But luckily a very helpful local assisted me in speaking with the hotel clerk over the phone with directions. So with little complication, we hit the road and in about an hours time, we reached our home for the weekend. After twelve hours we could spot out our destination. The Holiday Inn Ottawa, we were so relieved to finally be there.
That night I settled in one room with my girlfriend/head coach along with her sister and my goddaughter, Chu Chu aka Christina. I had the Bantam squad stuffed comfortably in a large room directly next to ours. We walked to a nearby pizza shop (even in foreign land we dine with familiarity, how adventurous of us). After the boys were fed, I vaguely recited the speech I had for the team in my head, but to no avail. I figured it would be most expedient to just speak from the heart, adlib from the soul. I deemed it imperative that we have a team meeting before the games the next day. This would be the first year in our Nationals where I would lead the pack. As the sole leader of the mighty MASAE squad, I had to make sure there was order in our ball club. I called for Mattchu, who singlehandedly organized a juvie squad in three weeks to compete in Ottawa. The discussion was concise. I expressed my affection for this team and everything it stood for. The message was simple like the t-shirts I printed out for sale; I Heart MASAE. It is the unconditional love that I have for everything MASAE that drives me everyday. My life has revolved around this team and it has all been for this weekend. We have truly become a team, but more importantly we have become a family. Brethren, that will walk hand in hand into our war zone, armed to the teeth with our jumpshots, traps, screens and other offensive/defensive artillery. Practice? Check. Enthused? Check. Hungry? Double check. I looked around the room and without any visual aid I could see the emotions right through their youthful faces. Their appetite for victory has grown so much in the past year. These young MASAE members were hungry like it was the last hour of Ramadan. From the veterans of the team to the inexperienced rookies, it was a unified mission to make MASAE a household name in PIBNA. That same night my eyes were open like the division MASAE traitor, Pek Pek, played for. My senses were heightened and I was as alert in the night as a nocturnal hunter. I kept on running possible game scenarios through my mind and then the most efficient way beat it. You think of a problem and you figure out how to solve it. For everything someone throws at you on the court, there is a counterattack or defense. That is how we coach, simplistic problem solving. Basically I had no sleep that first night just out of anxiety. How can anyone sleep preparing for combat? I’m sure Napoleon did not sleep well before his battle at Waterloo…
After my 3 hour bedtime nap, I got out of bed and began my day. 365 days we have waited, and it could not have come any sooner. When I went to wake some of the boys up I could see that some have already gotten ready for the day. I laughed to myself. Apparently I was not the only one that couldn’t get any shut-eye. Anxiety and adrenaline kept us awake and running. We all were ready by 7:30 and headed out to the opening ceremonies. Despite the loquaciousness of some of the speakers, the pre-game ceremonies were not bad at all. It’s the best one I’ve seen so far in PIBNA, but that’s not saying much. Although the singer of the Star Spangled Banner was very impressive. When the ceremony ended our Bantam and Juvie team both scrambled to find our designated gym sites. Apparently there were no officials from Ottawa to direct anyone to the gym locations because we spent the next 45 minutes trying to figure out where everyone is supposed to play, and where the gyms were. Frantically asking every Canadian official I came across, I finally figured out where Bantam would be playing, gathered everyone in the van and darted towards the gym.
When we arrived to the venue, it was mass confusion. Everyone was packed in a tight hallway trying to get a copy of the schedule. Unfortunately at that moment and time, there was only one copy of the schedule and I had to practically crowd-surf in order to get a glimpse of our game times. First game was scheduled to start at 1:30 in the afternoon, but the coordinator told me all games were delayed at least an hour. I looked at my phone for the time and it was only 9:30. We decided to go eat and come back before noon to scout some of the teams. I skimmed through the brackets before we left. Pool A consisted of Maryland, New York, and Ottawa. Pool B consisted of Boston, Toronto, and Montreal.
We came back to the gym at around noontime and went to scout the Toronto vs Montreal game. We saw a very close and intense game. Both teams pressured the ball very well on defense and on offense both teams were attacking the basket and finishing very well. I immediately realized we would be undersized. The Toronto guards were also a lot faster than ours, with more control. Montreal players were just suspiciously big. The Toronto boys team lost to Montreal by 5 and there were cries of protest from the Toronto parents. We would inevitably have to face two teams that were bigger, faster, and seemingly more experienced than us. Although we spent a year preparing for this tournament, I was apprehensive about the small size of the court and facing a tight full court 2-2-1 press. We also had limited time to prepare for the international rules as well (no “straddling” the halfcourt line and you can not inbound into the backcourt). These rules affected our press breaking offense, and these teams pressed well.
Gametime was upon us and our boys were amped. The layup line was full of energy and everyone was clapping up. The pre-game huddle rocked back and forth like a purple and black typhoon, and the chants were distinct “MASAE, MASAE, MASAE…WHAT TIME IS IT??!!” Coach Phibe brought them all in and let them know the game plan. We have to play OUR game, and not succumb to the uptempo game the Canadian teams are used to. On offense we had to be patient in finding the right shot for us, rushing into quick jumpers was not going to help us at all.
At the tip-off I can see Toronto had decent size in their starting lineup, we were smaller but wouldn’t have too much trouble matching up if we had to. The ball went up for the jumpball and we had studied all year long for this and here was the final exam. The opening minutes were actually a chess match, where both teams were getting a feel for each other’s style of play. The scoring was scarce so to stay in the game we kept up the intensity on the defensive end. We packed in a 2-3 to force them to take outside shots. Toronto’s pg was on fire the first game against Montreal, but when we gave him the open jumper early in the game he did not hit. The game see-sawed back and forth and neither team really had momentum over the other. Then Toronto called a time-out. I guessed (correctly) what Toronto wanted to do. They were going to set up their press on us and I had no intention to back down. Both teams decided to trap and all hell broke loose. The game instantly became a full court lay-up contest where transition was the objective and the pace was thrown into fifth gear. Fastbreak after fastbreak the score went back and forth like Austin Powers 3-point turning in a tight hallway. Although we were scoring quite efficiently in transition, I was terribly worried about the outcome of this game. I realized that we were definitely playing the Canadian style of play. In the end, if this kept up, we would not be able hang with their speed. I tried to slow the tempo and have us reset into half court sets. But this proved to be difficult because the open lay-ups were almost always there and the Canadian youngsters would not stop pushing the ball. Second half started and Coach Phibe decided to try our half court trap on them and almost immediately we caused some turnovers. Mexican hit several midrange jumpers and Headache got Toronto for 14 points off of floaters and his infamous lefty lay-up. The game was the same in the first half as the transition play continued. We caused turnovers only to give the ball back by committing them ourselves. The game became sloppy as everything we did was rushed. We were up one point with under 5 minutes to go. Toronto set up in the half court and at this point we were still trapping, but they still somehow managed to get an open look from the corner and drained a 15 footer. Down one point and extreme pressure in the backcourt, our guards did not take care of the ball. Sloppy ball handling combined with lack of communication on the press breaker led to a crucial turnover. Toronto converted a layup which put them up by three points. The next possession we were able to get the ball past halfcourt and set up our offense. Moving the ball around, Aly dropped a dime to Jimmy off a drive, and our trusty big man converted a baseline drop step. Down one point and we needed one stop with less than a minute remaining. Toronto brought the ball up and set up in the halfcourt, they took a short jumper and missed. With no timeouts, our team rushed to the other end of the court but did not get to set up as we lost the ball. The ball went out of bounds on us and Toronto immediately pushed the ball up the court. The pg dropped a pass off to a cutting big man who drove in absorbing the contact on one of our players, AND 1. Toronto was up 3 with only 2 seconds remaining. The free throw was missed and a rebound by us did not mean much as the halfcourt prayer fell short by several feet. The buzzer sounded and we took a loss with our first game.
Devastated by the loss, after so much build up, the boys and their coaches went to have a post-game meeting. We told them how badly they dropped the ball as far as controlling the pace of the game. We specifically told them before and during the game, that if we tried to play Toronto’s pace we would simply lose. For the first time in my life I wished I was wrong about my prediction. But it was evident from the beginning that Toronto had much more experience running the fast pace game. Some of the parents and coaches from Toronto went up to me afterwards and gave me some advice and encouragement. They wanted us to beat Montreal. We went on break to grab some food and while everyone was resting my brain had a million thoughts in circulation. We were in the toughest situation possible. Our team needed to win with five or more points in order to advance to the playoffs and this Montreal team was very tough.
After our break we entered the gym determined to earn our spot into playoff contention. The boys stretched out and were warming up when the Montreal coach walked towards us and pulled coach Phibe and myself aside. For the first time ever I will be revealing what transpired during our discussion before our second preliminary game at PIBNA 2008. The Montreal coach approaches us and expresses that he has acknowledged our point differential situation. We needed to win by five points in order to advance beyond the preliminary round. The coach then says that he will throw the game as long as we win by five to six points. His reasoning is that he “hates” the Toronto team. This is understandable considering that I heard that Toronto attempted to protest the Montreal players (one of which I seen drive to the venue). Regardless of his reasoning, I was flabbergasted. Honestly, this left not only myself, but the entire club in a tough position. The dilemma was difficult, and the choice we would make could potentially alter the momentum of our basketball club. In retrospect, I am honestly disgusted with myself for even considering the offer. But MASAE Hoops is a program that needs results, plus these boys worked extremely hard for the entire year. They sacrificed hours upon hours to improve their game. But in the end what Phibe and I discussed was that the Toronto boys probably worked just as hard as us. We looked at the boys in yellow and black just enjoying themselves at the tournament. Despite them being older than our boys, that Toronto team was still young. My opinion definitely started to sway towards a negative once I started to think about how these boys from Toronto most likely live for this tournament and would never expect to be cheated by 5 five points. My empathy also stemmed from a personal experience just the year prior in PIBNA 2007. Playing in the 5’10 division we defeated Tampa by at least 15 points. But Tampa had a game against a team that did not show up, therefore; they were awarded 50 points to their team point differential. We were eliminated the first day and that left a sour taste in my mouth. Although we were victims of an obsolete rule, I felt it was terribly unjust to eliminate us. It was beyond our control and the board of PIBNA eventually changed that forfeit rule. 2007 was ultimately a waste. The fate of my year-long commitment to training and practicing was held by the board of PIBNA and to their discretion Boston was to be eliminated. I am an adult, I understand that sometimes things just do not go my way. I felt cheated, but I also felt the higher authority of the tournament had a right to make the decision they did. But in our current situation, who the hell am I to decide the fate of these poor kids from Toronto? Looking at the faces of my young players I would never want something like that to happen to them, especially over the decision of a bitter coach. Phibe and I knew in our hearts we would never be able to live with the guilt that would haunt us if we decided to take the offer. Plus it would go against everything we were trying to teach the kids in our program. I know for a fact, that the boys had way too much pride to be able to accept a win in that fashion. Even with the endangerment of our program’s progression, the coaches and the boys were not going to compromise our integrity. I signaled to the coach that the deal was a no-go and the game began.
The first half was very slow from both sides. Montreal had superior athleticism and were lobbing passes to the weak-side baseline. They were scoring against our zone with no problem. But we were hanging the whole half mostly due our guards and Shaun Galano knocking down mid-range and long-range jumpers from all over the perimeter. The half ended with us trailing only by five points to a very strong team. The second half we lacked the energy and intensity to keep up as Montreal’s guards blew the lead open with several deep jumpers to start the half. Our boys fought valiantly but could never take the lead as none of our defense was effective against their team. The coach never really even coached, he just sat back as the boys ran the game themselves like it was an open run. We ended up losing by nine points and our playoff dreams were shattered as the buzzer sounded. We shook hands with the coach and players and exited the gym to circled up in an isolated grass area next our parking spot. Our post-tournament discussion was based on a simple question: where do we go from here? Finishing 0-2 for two consecutive years is a devastating blow to any program, especially for their biggest tournament of the year. Going around the circle of individuals with the same question, the overall consensus is that everyone needs to just work even harder and make more of a commitment to the team. The Toronto game resurfaced in our conversation when we learned that the other bracket consisted of New York, Ottawa, and Maryland. Although all three respective teams played well in their bracket, there is a clear difference in competition as the advancing teams, New York and Maryland did not match well against Toronto and Montreal. I must note that Maryland was an undersized team who played with tremendous heart and could shoot lights out. They had a point guard who controlled the pace of the game with great poise. But as I was saying about our game with Toronto, it was a pivotal game for this tournament. We had a chance to win and lost because we did not run our offensive sets and our guards did not control the tempo of the game. The team agreed that we have to believe in our system, the same system that worked for us all year. We all agreed to move on and regroup. I made sure I expressed my gratitude to the boys for playing for me, and that MASAE is nothing without them.
After basketball, the weekend was quite uneventful as Ottawa did not have much for tourist to do. The food was terribly expensive! It was a painstaking experience every time I paid for something to eat. We also had everyone in the hotel swimming pool where the other people in the pool did not seem too fond of our group. Being the only group of Asians there, the other people would leave the pool whenever the boys swam close to them. This upset me because we traveled damn near 700 miles just to experience this type of attitude/behavior/bias? We could not wait to leave and when Monday came we got in our van and drove away from what was the Canadian version of Plainsville. Ottawa is a great city if you’re vacationing with your wife and children to see landmarks, but for a crowd of people with ADHD, it was not exciting to say the least. Our ride back was uneventful as we just cruised through what seemed like an endless view of grassfields and highway roads (I’m just grateful we did not drive through farmland neighbrohoods again). Driving home I became slightly irate when I recounted the events over this past weekend. The losses, being cheated, the over-priced food, getting lost on the way to the hotel, the rude locals in Ottawa all accounted for things that made me feel like the entire trip was a nightmare. In my depressed state I just wanted to reach home and forget about the entire weekend. But then one of the players woke up from his nap. He sat up straight and asked me “when’s the next time you’re holding workouts and drills, I want to improve.” I broke out of my zone and realized what he just asked me. I could not help but smile to myself and thought “damn, I can’t wait for Labor Day weekend next year.”
