The Perfect Storm – Part I
The Perfect Symphony – Concerto 1

“…words cannot express…” – many people at the wedding

It’s true, words can’t express what actually transpired. But I still have to try.

E.A.C. – Low Bass and Driving Rhythm
(flashback)
August 18th, 2001
The Gary Guevara Classic – The first classic. The teams were:

KoJa – Alvin and Steve
2EC – Eric and Chris
Team Necto – G and George
The Pooh Bears – Porta and J

Teams were picked randomly the night before and the teams slept by each other and made grand entrances together into the living room. The rings were created and instantly coveted.
KoJa was feared.

The script unfolded. In the semi’s Gary’s dominating low post play put the K.O. in KoJa and a rivalry was born. Against the Pooh Bears, 2EC made it seem as such. The first groom at the first classic made it to the finals and fell. 2EC won the Gary Guevara Classic by a small margin. The margin was minimal but the milestone significant.

Fast forward past the J-Mac: Jomy Matthew Classic – Jomy and Eric reach finals. Groom loses by a small margin.
Fast forward past the B.E.C.: Brian Ebarvia Classic – Brian and brother Jeff Ebarvia reach finals. Groom loses by a small margin.

September 20th, 2003
The Eric Agustin Classic – The fourth classic. The wonderful new guy Tom hooks us up with an amazing gym at St. Mary’s College in Canton where he works. It’s a beautiful sunny day. Everyone gets to the gym in time and in the end, exactly 20 people were there. The teams were picked by putting everyone’s license in a hat and the groom would first pick his partner, and then pick another license, and that person would then pick his partner. The groom would pick another license, and that person would pick his partner and so on.

With my license gone, there were 19 licenses in that hat…. And who do I pick!?!?!!!!?
My DAD!!! My dad who taught me my jumper and layup lefty and the importance of methodical discipline on the court. Team Agustin is united as the first team. Although my dad is 61 we are still a force to reckon with. So many subtle emotions were triggered by the nuances of his game. Just watching him rebound and fake and shoot that ridiculous unblockable running baby hook and him setting that pick right where I love it opened a door in me I hadn’t walked through in many years. A door that led to so many summer nights on the court playing my cousin and my uncle and any neighborhood kids that walked by. A door that also led to 6am shooting practice with him before school to help me practice for the high school team. The same choreographed plays/movements that always played to my strengths and not his are so indicative of how he felt about me and his endless drive to help me succeed. He always made me feel that my successes were our successes. There was a 1 in 19 chance that I would pull the perfect partner out of that hat. I pulled my best friend. My dad.

The rest worked out like this:
John M. and Kris Benda – Team Gunner
Gary G. and Chris Lum – Team Old Skool
Scotty V. and Felipe Gatchalian – The Goaties
Ant S. and J. Soliman – The Spoilers
Alvin and Steve – KoJa II
Ariel and Joel – Team Mystizo
Ryan and Rob – Team DJ
Prem and Alan – Team Soliman
Eric and Paolo – Team Lambda

The tournament that started with four teams had grown to ten. Double elimination. Winner gets the rings and the championship cookies.

The stage was set. Pandemonium ensued as Alvin picked Steve’s name and KoJa was reborn 2 years later in KoJa II. Team Mystizo was feared. Team Agustin was ready.

I took the ball at the top of the key and looked down. It was the first game of the tournament. Team Agustin against Team Mystizo. I looked at who was guarding me. Then I looked again. I thought it was Ariel. I was wrong. The intense driven madman that stood between me and the basket was not Ariel. This was someone else.
(flashback)
The J-Mac: Ariel and Alvin vs. Jomy and Eric – Approximately 3.5 hours into the basketball marathon, amidst dehydration, cramps, and fatigue, Jomy and Eric defeat Ariel and Alvin 11-0.
(end flashback)
This was someone else.
In my triple threat stance the intensity in the eyes of the enormous man in front of me was three times as threatening. He was big and fast and focused. His colleague equally determined albeit ignorant of history. Team Agustin fell and me and my dad were only left to shaking our heads at their strength and athleticism.

KoJa II came out strong and poised to make a run. The Spoilers were looking formidable and Ant’s debut made an impression.

Team Agustin was down but not out. In the losers bracket now it was do or die. We were playing Team Soliman and were fired up. We drew up the old plays and fell into the old rhythm. Everything was clicking except… the shots. The reliable jumper that had taken me years to hone and my father’s old faithful fadeaways were not falling. It could have been the excitement, the lack of warm up, the new opponent. The shots weren’t falling. There, beneath the weight of Prem the Muk’s good shooting and the hustle infused into the bones of all Solimans, Team Agustin started to buckle.
(flashback)
March 7, 2003
Eric proposes to Annalisa.
Eric runs and works out every other day to eliminate one of the gaping flaws in his game.
Stamina. Stamina is what has stopped me in the past. Stamina will stop me in the future.
Stamina will not be what stops me in my Classic. Soccer helps. Prayer helps. Over 6 months, my stamina increased to levels unheard. Soccer ends. Transition to basketball for a month. Stamina is there. Skillz are there. Mission 1 accomplished. I’m ready.
(end flashback)
You know when the shot goes up. The whole game goes by again in my head as the ball arcs. I should have let my dad shoot more. Why didn’t my jumpers fall? All that work. How did I let the game get to this point? Why didn’t I play better D?
The ball swished as beautiful shots do and me and my dad had lost again. History would not repeat itself and the groom would not be in the finals. My work had been in vain and all the stamina I had in reserve would not be called upon.
What I thought I should feel: bitterness, pain, failure, yearning
My honest feeling: contentment. For I’ve learned the hard lesson of competition and I’ve been on both sides of winning and losing. The bottom line is that I played in my Classic with my dad and we did well. No one can ever take away the feeling I felt when I watched my dad outrebound my friend in the sneaky way that he always gains position. No one can take away the feeling I felt when I took the court with my hero.
So I was content. There were still 19 guys I loved in the room and my fiancé and one of her best friends was coming soon. So I took refuge in one of the only things that can simultaneously power me up and calm me down. A cookie… or 15 cookies. The miles of running behind me, the instant need for stamina passed aside, I love cookies.

The tournament escalated.
Team Mystizo was rolling and emerged as the team to beat. Team Old Skool was making their push. KoJa II was gaining strength and in hushed corners of the gym there were whispers of a dark horse, Team Gunner. I couldn’t hear much above the crunching of my Milano cookies.

The planets aligned for KoJa II. Steve and Alvin were up against Team Old Skool – Gary and Chris. Two years, one month, and two days after Gary led Team Necto past
KoJa I in his Classic, he would face them again, but this time a leaner, hungrier, more determined KoJa II. They would not be denied. The final score read 7-0 and the revenge exacted. The ghost of Gary would no longer haunt Steve and the essence of the rivalry can be summed in G’s parting statements, “well… now we’re tied.”

The tournament escalated yet again.
Disaster struck. The one beast that could cloud even the sunniest of tournaments.
Injury.
It happened so fast it’s tough to remember. I was pondering on whether or not I should open the Oreo’s. Ryan was chillin’ with the GL2. Scott and I were discussing how many FASA presidents were in the room… (5 – Annalisa, Gary, Alvin, Chris, Scott)… and how I was a terrible FASA secretary…
And then I spotted it, a crowd of people, a slightly elevated leg…. I hate injuries. They almost make it not worth it because of how maliciously they cross all boarders of life. A hand injury in basketball stops you from typing, from throwing in a soccer ball, from playing Halo, from itching. A foot injury from soccer slows down your pace, prevents you from walking outside with your loved one, stops you from rebounding. Injuries almost make it not worth playing. Almost.
That’s why Chris keeps playing, because it’s still worth it to. Chris Lum is my inspiration for lifting and playing basketball. I think to myself when I do curls, “…big like Chris… Big like Chris… BIG like Chris…oomph!” He is also the only one I know out of Jedi that actually makes it a priority in his week to work out and play ball so he’s ready for the upcoming season. Chris Lum is a rock of a man with muscles protruding. Chris Lum is a hard worker a dear groomsman and a trusted friend.
Chris Lum has a sprained ankle.
With Eric G. and Alan in PT school to be doctors and Ariel in MSU med school I wasn’t worried about him. I was worried about him playing. He fought through bad cramps at G’s Classic to win it with me. He could fight through this and keep playing if he wanted to, but the question was whether or not he should.
As time passed and the future doctors of America determined no permanent damage was imminent, Chris decided his ankle was not well enough to play. Meanwhile, I was defending home base wondering why the Oreo’s weren’t opened yet.

I turned to see G discussing in a group of guys. I learned later that he was asking if he could get a sub.

About an hour and a half, 15 cookies, and 2 bottled waters later, I was asked by my Best Man to play with him in my Classic. Determined to do justice in honor of the fallen brother of 2EC, I obliged.

The game was up to eleven win by two. The anti-Eric rule in effect, it was losers outs. I asked G what was going on and what’s up with this Team Gunner sleeper team that people are whispering about. It was revealed that John and Kris were silent assassins, both new to Classic competition no one saw them coming. Kris was strong on the drive and the outside shot and John relentless in defense with long arms making it impossible to stop the jumper. I must admit I flinched when G looked me in the eye and said, “Well, basically…. They’re dominating us.” My mouth opened for a moment in a smirk as I searched G’s eyes for the punch line. What I found was all seriousness. I’d seen it before. It was the same look he gave Greenies when no one believed we could kill the performance but him. It was the same look he gave Vibe when he knew the cards were stacked against us but if we push hard right now, we might make it. It was almost as serious as the look he gave me when he asked me to be his daughter’s God father and made me to understand what should take place should anything happen to them. It was the look you need to have to start the best a cappella group on campus. It was the look you need to have to walk away from a well paying job to follow God’s call. It was the look you need to have if you want to lead. It was the look you have when you believe.
I’d seen it before. He believed we could win. I believed in us. He told me they were dominating us, I told my Best Man, “okay… let’s go.” After all, we were only down 9-3.

It was exactly what I expected. Kris was a much better player than I’d ever seen him before. Jon blocked my jumpers with his long arms. I couldn’t create enough space to fade away. Losers outs sux. Prevents me from making spirit crushing offensive runs. So it was a battle. The only weapon left in my arsenal: Stamina. These 3 had worked for hours to get where they were in the tournament. I was eating cookies. They were dying from fatigue and I was bouncing around like it was my 3rd game. But I did become tired and I did feel pain. I discovered something about myself that game. I finally realized what it meant to dig deeper. I felt pain all throughout my mid section, I felt pain in my legs and my arms. It was the exact same pain I felt around the 2.5 mile mark when I’m running. But with God’s help, He always helps me battle through that last half mile. I was sitting there at the 2.5 mile mark in this game. It was 12-12. G pulled me aside and told me to leave it all out there. He said that if we’re gonna lose, they’re gonna have to scrape us off this court because we left so much of ourselves on it. I was pumped. I left it all out there.

You know when the shot goes up. Every last ounce of energy was needed to heave that ball. Down from my toes, a wave through my body, and out the last flick of the fingertip.
It was the same baseline jumper I’d used as a teenager to beat my cousins. The same baseline jumper I’d used to put away close ones at the CCRB. Simple really. I start at the top of the key, beat you by a half step to the right base line and elevate as high as I can. I’d done it so many times that you could cover my eyes with both hands and it would still fall. You have to know it’s coming, anticipate it, and jump early to block it. If you don’t know it’s coming…

The ball swished as beautiful shots do and Gary and I had come back to win 18-16. There, with my proud father watching and my beautiful fiancé woohooing, I clenched my fists and my eyes and turned and put my head on the cinderblock wall and let out an emphatic groaning sigh that is just the sound that is made when the rest of yourself empties out on the floor.

The love abounded, the room spun, the woohooing ended. Thus went the quarter-finals.

The semis: KoJa II.

The tie between Steve and G would be broken. I felt like Honey Roy Palmer in Diggstown.

Over the past few years, Alvin has really stepped up his D on me. He denies me the ball more and works harder to not let me get my shot off. He calls out picks faster than he used to and his left hand gives me fits because I’m driving at his strong hand. He hates to lose and I hate to play him. I hate to lose and I love to play him. KoJa II was a monster power house. Well balanced in speed, skill, and rebounding Alvin’s finesse guard play is complimented wonderfully by Steve’s size and outside shot. But, their shots weren’t falling like before. Short off the rim is indicative of fatigue. Short off the rim results in long rebounds results in quick checks and counter-attacks. A game not in favor of a team playing against a pair still rolling on the ecstasy of the recent win. Alvin was hampered by a sore and cramping left leg. At one point, Steve and Alvin had to switch up but the leg had taken it’s toll and continued to be capitalized upon. Ultimately, KoJa II fell to Team Old Skool+E and the win will go in the books for G with an asterisk next to it. Somehow, the groom would be playing again in the finals of his Classic. I was fine with history until then, but I wanted to write a new chapter.

Thus went the semi-finals.

The finals: Team Mystizo

The team me and my dad lost to the first game of the tournament. I was determined to set things straight. Since they had gone unbeaten, we had to beat Team Mystizo twice to win the whole thing. Twice. Ariel was on a mission. Joel’s that freshman running back in the National Championship game that doesn’t know what he can’t do. Joel jumps through the roof. He is the absolute prototypical player designed to beat me. Low to the ground with an extremely strong build and moves his feet on D. A super human like quick jumping ability that the sweetest of moves will not free me up enough for an open shot. He will go for fakes but not enough. He relishes causing havoc on defense. Ariel is just enormous. Granted, I’m not that big, but when he wants the rebound, it’s his. Also, he was stupid on. He was so on it was ridiculous. He was hitting the 17 foot set shoot with a regularity I hadn’t seen before. That’s the first red flag that you’re in trouble. Whenever the tallest guy on the other team is hitting the farthest shots, you’re in trouble. The best way to describe how resolute Ariel was in his vindications is to recall a single play. At one point in time, Ariel had shot too hard on a close shot next to the basket, try as G might to box him out, Ariel got in position for the board on the right block, I was there also though… G, Ariel, and I scuffled for the ball for a split second, I didn’t have it and I suspected G didn’t either so I was content with fouling Ariel. Apparently G made the same decision. A cunning plan except for one flaw. Traditionally, the person being fouled has to call the foul. Instead, with me hanging on his right arm, and G hanging on his left and fouling him with the body, Ariel powered through our feeble iron curtain and laid the ball in almost tapping the glass. This kind of relentless sweeping of the boards mixed with the long set shot mixed with a rebounding muscle guard was what it took to deny the fourth bachelor in as many Classics the coveted ring.

Thus went the Finals.

Ariel and Joel got the rings and the #1 medal cookies all presented nicely by the lovely Chrissy Cheung and Annalisa Ambrosio (at the time).

The guys bought me this awesome power tool set and we took pictures. Me and my dad high-fived and smiled and he said, “…next time, next time…” like he always does. G and I gave it our all. I thanked Chris knowing that in a heartbeat he would have played if he could.
We went back to Alvin’s condo where he graciously opened it up to everyone to hang out and talk and play games. Old Greenies got to chill with new ones. Old FunKtion with new. Old buddies with new. Old memories and new. We accidentally ordered $1300 worth of pizza and wings. We played 12 person team Risk with reckless abandon. The battle cries were deafening. Monkey battle cries. Mexican battle cries. AIAIAIAIAI cries. Madness. At one point, after defending a territory that we all insisted was his home and that he had to defend his home, J Soliman stood up and marched as only battle hungry soldiers thirsting for more do. KAM-CHAT-KA was chanted over and over. 2EC was the green army and our mission was to obliterate the yellow army…. Prem and Ant… Overzealous, I marched our army into a terrible position. Another army was forced to obliterate us, thus Gary and Scott completed their mission of obliterating the green army without even one direct battle. They did their dance and battle cry…. And we all laughed and lamented… I had lost again.

Poker ensued and was a good foreshadowing of future battles. G learned Hold ‘Em. J excelled. Ryan took out Oliver. Steve and I played too many hands we shouldn’t have. I limped away from yet another table. Broken and now broke, I had lost $10.

It took me a while to eat the “L” cookie the girls made for the “Losers” of the Classic. Finally, I did.
While it may and does stand for Losers, it also begins Life, and Love, and Laughter and man oh man did I eat that cookie up that day.