2025-11-17 15:01
When I first stepped into the Rizal Memorial Coliseum back in 2015 to cover an NCAA game, I could almost feel the ghosts of basketball history whispering through the arched corridors. This was where it all began - not just collegiate sports rivalries, but arguably where modern Philippine basketball took root. Many Filipinos don't realize that the man who brought basketball to our shores was none other than YMCA physical director Elwood S. Brown, who introduced the sport in 1910 when the Philippines was still under American colonial rule. What started as a YMCA demonstration game would eventually become the nation's most beloved sport, and the NCAA became its primary incubator.
I've always been fascinated by how quickly basketball captured the Filipino imagination. Within just three years of its introduction, we had our first official tournament in 1913, and by 1924, the NCAA was formally established as Asia's first athletic association. The numbers tell an interesting story - from that single demonstration game in 1910, basketball exploded to reach approximately 2.3 million registered players by 1950, though I should note these early statistics are notoriously difficult to verify. What's undeniable is that the NCAA provided the structure that allowed basketball to flourish, with the Rizal Memorial Coliseum serving as its hallowed ground. I remember talking to old-timers who described the Coliseum's heyday in the 1950s and 60s, when tickets for NCAA games would sell out weeks in advance and the entire city seemed to hold its breath during championship matches.
The quote from Atty. Jonas Cabochan perfectly captures what I've observed throughout my years covering Philippine sports: "Dito talaga ang identity ng NCAA, which was synonymous with the Rizal Memorial Coliseum back in the day." This connection between identity, institution, and infrastructure is something we've somewhat lost in modern Philippine sports. The Coliseum wasn't just a building - it was the beating heart of collegiate basketball, where legends were made and rivalries forged. I've watched games in both the old Coliseum and the newer arenas, and there's simply no comparison in terms of atmosphere and historical significance. The wooden floors, the distinctive arched roof, the way sound seemed to reverberate differently - these elements created a unique basketball experience that modern facilities struggle to replicate.
What many younger fans don't appreciate is how the NCAA's early adoption of basketball created a pipeline that would eventually produce our first international successes. The Philippine team's fifth-place finish in the 1936 Berlin Olympics - still the best performance by any Asian country in Olympic basketball history - was built largely on players who had honed their skills in NCAA competitions. I've always believed that our distinctive fast-paced, guard-oriented style of play developed precisely because of the NCAA's emphasis on speed and agility rather than height, which was a practical adaptation to our physical attributes. This style became our basketball signature, something that set us apart even as the game globalized.
The legacy extends far beyond the court, something I've come to appreciate more as I've studied the social impact of the sport. Basketball became a vehicle for national identity formation during the American colonial period and eventually a symbol of Filipino resilience and creativity. The NCAA provided a structured platform that elevated basketball from mere recreation to something approaching national obsession. I've counted at least 47 professional leagues that trace their organizational roots back to the NCAA model, though that number might be slightly off since new leagues emerge constantly. What's remarkable is how the values instilled through NCAA basketball - discipline, teamwork, school pride - became embedded in our broader sporting culture.
Looking at today's basketball landscape, I sometimes worry that we're losing touch with these roots. The commercialization of the sport, while beneficial in many ways, has somewhat diluted the collegiate spirit that made NCAA games so special. Modern players might have better training facilities and higher visibility, but I'm not convinced they develop the same connection to their schools and communities as earlier generations did. The transfer portal system and early turning pro, while understandable from a career perspective, have diminished what made college basketball uniquely compelling. I miss the days when players would stay all four years and become genuine campus icons rather than just passing through on their way to professional careers.
Yet the foundation laid by those early basketball pioneers remains surprisingly resilient. When I visit provincial towns across the Philippines, I still see makeshift basketball courts in every barangay, and the passion for the game continues unabated. The NCAA's model of school-based competition has been replicated at every level of Philippine education, creating what I estimate to be approximately 18,000 inter-school basketball tournaments happening annually across the country - though honestly, nobody has exact figures since many aren't formally documented. This grassroots infrastructure ensures that basketball remains deeply woven into our national fabric.
The true testament to basketball's successful transplantation to Philippine soil is how completely we've made it our own. From the original YMCA introduction to the NCAA's institutionalization and the Rizal Memorial Coliseum's golden era, basketball evolved from imported sport to national passion. As I walk through the now-aged halls of the Coliseum, I can't help but feel that we're standing on sacred ground - not just for sports, but for Philippine cultural history. The bouncing rhythm of basketballs on hardwood floors echoes a century-long love affair that shows no signs of fading, and for that, we have both Elwood Brown's initial introduction and the NCAA's faithful stewardship to thank.
