As I sat watching the Day One results of the 2nd Reyes Cup unfold, seeing Team Asia jump to a surprising 4-0 lead over Team Rest of the World, I couldn't help but reflect on Carlo Biado's comments about setting the tone early. That phrase stuck with me—"setting the tone"—because isn't that exactly what the greatest players in PBA history have done throughout their careers? They didn't just play; they defined eras, shifted expectations, and left marks so deep that the league's narrative changed forever. When we talk about the 40 greatest players in PBA history, we're not merely listing stats or counting championships. We're weighing impact, legacy, and that intangible quality of changing the game itself.
Let me be clear from the start: compiling a list like this is inherently subjective, and I don't claim to have the definitive answer. But after covering the league for over a decade and speaking with coaches, analysts, and former players, I've formed strong opinions about who truly belongs. For instance, Ramon Fernandez and Robert Jaworski aren't just names—they're institutions. Fernandez's four MVP awards and jaw-dropping 19 PBA titles set a bar that feels almost untouchable. Jaworski, on the other hand, brought a fiery charisma that translated into 11 championships and a player-coach role that revolutionized leadership in the league. These are the no-brainers, the players whose inclusion sparks zero debate. But as we dig deeper, the lines blur.
Take the modern era, for example. June Mar Fajardo's six MVP awards in seven seasons is a statistical marvel—no one has dominated the league like that in the 21st century. Yet, I've heard critics argue that his era lacked the physicality of the '80s and '90s. Personally, I think that's a lazy take. Greatness isn't about comparing eras directly; it's about how a player maximizes their moment. Fajardo didn't just win; he redefined the center position with footwork and finesse, forcing teams to adapt or perish. Similarly, James Yap's clutch gene and two MVP awards cement his spot, but it's his cultural impact—the "Man of Many Stars" phenomenon—that elevates him from very good to legendary.
Then there are the international showcases like the Reyes Cup, where players like Carlo Biado represent a different dimension of greatness. Biado, primarily known for billiards, might seem out of place in a PBA discussion, but his mindset applies universally. When he stressed the importance of Team Asia's 4-0 start, he highlighted a trait common among the PBA's elite: the ability to seize momentum and never let go. I've seen this in legends like Alvin Patrimonio, who played with a relentless intensity that led to four MVP awards and 14 titles. Patrimonio wasn't just skilled; he was a warrior who set the tone game after game, much like Biado emphasized for Team Asia.
But let's talk numbers, even if some are debated. Benjie Paras remains the only player to win Rookie of the Year and MVP in the same season—a feat that screams "instant impact." Danny Seigle's 27.7 points per game in the 1999 Commissioner's Cup is a figure that still gives coaches nightmares. And how can we forget Johnny Abarrientos? His 1996 MVP season included averages of 16.1 points and 7.1 assists, but it was his steals—2.1 per game—that showcased a defensive prowess rarely matched. I'll admit, I'm biased toward two-way players; guys who excel on both ends, like Abarrientos or Mark Caguioa, always get extra points in my book.
Of course, omissions are inevitable, and that's where the debates get heated. I've had fans argue with me at length about players like Vergel Meneses or Asi Taulava. Meneses, the "Aerial Voyager," was a highlight reel with his dunks and mid-range game, but did he have the consistency of a Bogs Adornado, who bagged three MVPs and led the league in scoring multiple times? In my view, Adornado's longevity—spanning the '70s to early '80s—edges him ahead. As for Taulava, his 2003 MVP and 16.8 points per game average are solid, but I lean toward Junemar Fajardo for sheer dominance in the center position.
What fascinates me most, though, is how these players' legacies intertwine with moments like the Reyes Cup. When Team Asia surged ahead 4-0, it wasn't just about skill; it was about mentality—the same mentality that separates the great from the greatest in PBA history. Players like Allan Caidic, who once dropped 68 points in a single game, didn't just have a hot hand; they had a killer instinct. Caidic's record 17 three-pointers in that 1991 outing isn't just a number; it's a statement. And statements like that echo through time, reminding us why these athletes belong in the conversation.
In the end, crafting a list of the 40 greatest isn't about creating a perfect hierarchy. It's about honoring those who shaped the PBA into what it is today—a league rich with drama, brilliance, and unforgettable characters. From Fernandez's titles to Fajardo's MVPs, from Jaworski's leadership to Biado's emphasis on setting the tone, each player brings something unique. As a fan and analyst, I cherish these debates because they keep the spirit of the game alive. So, who truly belongs? Look for the ones who didn't just play the game but rewrote its rules, both on and off the court.