The cage legend that was Crispa (March 3, 1985)

Crispa's disbandment served as a cover of the March 3, 1985 issue of the Philippine Panorama, with sportswriter Al Mendoza providing an in-depth story of how the Redmanizers decided to end their glorious PBA tenure.

THE CAGE LEGEND THAT WAS CRISPA

By Al S. Mendoza

Philippine Panorama

Published Sunday March 3, 1985

BASKETBALL’S self-styled experts had misread their crystal balls. Even the scalper, the most grizzled cage scientist in the land, didn’t see it coming. Nobody had dared say it was blowin’ in the wind.

So, when it finally came, it came like a thunderbolt. The news sent shock waves all over the land. To millions of cage devotees in this basketball-crazed nation, it was simply unbelievable.

Barber shops and plush coffee shop, talipapa and supermarket, every conceivable public space was abuzz. From Aparri to Jolo, from Marawi to Laoag, people were asking: “How come? What happened? Why?”

The jarring news was the disbandment of Crispa. Before the news exploded on our faces in the morning of January 29, only three men knew about it. Pablo Floro and his son, Danny, to begin with. The third man, you’ll be surprised to know, was Tommy Manotoc.

Danny Floro did not like to disband the team. He had stood his ground for two years before finally giving in. “I understood the Old Man (Don Pablo),” Danny said. “He said it was silly to continue when my team is being pelted with criticisms because of discord from within.”

Pablo Floro had wanted Crispa disbanded as early as 1982. The “Old Man: — who used to be a kutsero, a janitor and a firewood-gatherer for American soldiers on Corregidor before becoming a successful businessman — reportedly got peeved over Crispa’s failure to win any of the three titles in PBA ’82, an unusual setback for the country’s winningest team. What dissuaded him from dissolving the team was when Tommy Manotoc declared he was willing to coach Crispa, Manotoc was coming in to replace Baby Dalupan, who had a falling out with the players after that disastrous PBA ’82.

With Manotoc at the helm, Crispa did not only regain its old sting, it went on to break all existing records, establishing, among others, the longest winning streak of 21 games since the pro league began in 1975. At the end of PBA ’83, Crispa had become a grand slam champion again, duplicating a feat it achieved in 1976 when Dalupan was coach.

The elder Floro was happy again.

Son Danny flew to Hawaii for a well-deserved vacation.

AND THEN it happened. After Manotoc had again skillfully steered Crispa to the first championship in PBA ’84, Manotoc became ill with severe hyperacidity. Doctors advised him to rest — no tension, no pressure, no mind-boggling activities or he’d contract something graver, like ulcers.

Manotoc resigned when Crispa was all set to do battle for another championship. Narciso Bernardo, his assistant, took over, Crispa won PBA ’84’s first conference. But its fortunes took a nosedive in the second conference when it failed to even enter the semifinal round.

A new problem cropped up. Players openly expressed their dislike for Bernardo. In one game, Fortunato Co, Jr. ignored Bernardo’s authority and did a coaching maneuver himself: he relieved William Pearson at the height of a game and sent in Bernie Fabiosa in full view of spectators.

By the third conference, the problem worsened. Players became more defiant. During timeouts in a game, they wouldn’t listen to Bernardo’s instructions. “Tumitingin sila sa kung saan-saan pag timeout,” said Danny Floro. “They were not listening at all.”

The younger Floro admitted he did a lot of pleading for the players “to cooperate, to just finish the year.” He said he begged them to “play straight ball for the sake of the Old Man.”

The players half listened and, miraculously, despite mediocre performances, barged into the third conference. Danny thought the boys were finally cooperating. In the championship, Crispa rebounded from the brink of defeat to arrange a winner-take-all, deciding fifth game of the PBA ’84 third conference.

In the crucial match, Crispa lost by 21 points, and Great Taste pocketed the title. In that game, the Crispa players clearly didn’t show their championship punch. Their hearts and minds were not in the game. There was no fire in their eyes, no intensity in their plays. Abet Guidaben, the most valuable player of 1983, committed back-to-back fouls in the dying seconds of the third quarter and, because of this, he sat out the entire fourth quarter on six fouls.

Danny charged Guidaben with deliberately not giving his best, an accusation which Guidaben vehemently denied. Danny said there was a termite in the team, obviously referring to Guidaben. Guidaben countered he couldn’t take it anymore, he soon quit Crispa and joined Tanduay.

A chain reaction ensued. Soon, Crispa was like a volcano all set to explode. Players’ contracts were set for renewal. Narciso Bernardo wasn’t tendering his resignation.

On the morning of January 15, Danny got a call.

“I have made my decision,” said the voice on the phone. “It’s time to bid farewell to your team.”

It was the Old Man, Don Pablo.

“I’ll give it a serious study,” Danny said.

“I want a quick decision,” the Old Man insisted. “I just can’t take it anymore. A lot of people are angry. Our fans are mad. Our players seem to have lost interest in winning games. One fan called up and said, ‘Hey, ubos na ang pera ko sa bangko dahil talo ako lagi sa kapupusta sa inyo.’ They suspect we’re betting too. That we’re gamblers. I’m fed up with all this talk.

Danny said: “I’ll give it a serious study.”

“Make it fast,” the Old Man said.

“OK.” Danny said.

The Old Man is sensitive to criticism and gossip. Even jokes Danny recalls a time when the Old Man was still a Batasan assemblyman. The First Lady reportedly approached Don Pablo and said, “When can we have a project?” There were other assemblymen present and one of them said, “That’s not a problem, Madam. Don Pablo here owns Crispa. All we need is four games and ayos na iyan, kuwarta na iyan.”

“If it was intended as a joke, it wasn’t funny,” Danny said. “Dinamdam ni Tanda iyon. He called me. He told me, ‘Anak, buti pa, i-disband mo na ang Crispa. Ayoko nang makarinig ng kung anu-anong tsismis.’ He is that sensitive.

Danny called up Tommy Manotoc to ask his opinion.

Tommy to Danny: “If you can’t restore harmony in the team, that’s a serious problem. You can’t win with a team that has no unity.”

“In short,” Danny said, “Tommy was for disbandment. He told me I could always rejoin the league, say, in the second or third conferences. He told me it (was) better to sell the franchise than to lease it because, he explained, my money would only be sleeping if I just keep it there.”

Days later, Danny made his decision. He was going to sell Crispa’s franchise. Lito Anzures of Vintage Enterprises, Danny said, negotiated for Pilipinas Shell, Crispa’s buyer. “The selling price was probably P300,000,” said Danny. “I’m not sure yet. Si Tommy lahat ang nagtatrabaho.”

CARLOS “Honeyboy” Palanca III, president of the Philippine Basketball Association, viewed Crispa’s disbandment as a big loss to the PBA. “It was very regrettable,” he said. “We lost Toyota last year and now it’s Crispa. It’s regrettable, indeed.”

Danny Floro said the Crispa offices in Pasig were bombarded with telegrams and letters, expressing shock, when news of Crispa’s disbandment came out in the papers.

“One cable came from a 13-year-old boy, a grade-six pupil from Angeles City,” said Danny. “He repeatedly asked the question, ‘Why?’ We must have received more than a hundred cables.”

A confidante of Information Minister Gregorio S. Cendana said Cendana was stunned. “You may not know it,” said Ching Suba, “but the minister is a diehard Crispa (fan). He watches every game of Crispa. And when Crispa loses, you’d better be careful when you ask him to sign a letter. He may not sign it at all.”

Danny Floro said the final nail to Crispa’s coffin was provided by the Crispanatics. “We believe they didn’t want a Crispa transformed into a whipping boy once PBA ’85 finally opens,” said Danny. “I believe them: we have already achieved what every team is dreaming of — that of winning almost all titles in sight. Now that we are in a terrible crisis, it’s pointless to entertain hopes of rebounding in so short a time. We have no coach. The players wanted a coach with the caliber of a Dalupan or a Manotoc. We can’t find one now, Or even in the near future. You can’t build a champion team overnight. We can’t afford to be booed when PBA ’85 opens on March 3 (today). And in the days thereafter.”

Not a single Crispa Redmanizer went to Danny Floro the day the news of the disbandment came out.

“Nobody said goodbye,” Danny said. “Wala man lang nagsabi ng ‘Thank you for everything.’ Okey lang. That’s how grave our internal problem is.”

Thus ended a legend, patiently nourished by Danny Floro from the day he formed the team, without his father’s knowledge, in 1956. Up to this day, not many people know that Don Pablo, for unexplained reasons, didn’t want Danny to play basketball or involve himself in basketball. There were times in Danny’s youth when his old man would not give him his school allowance whenever he discovered his son playing basketball.

But despite his father’s objections, Danny pursued his love.

“I don’t know,” said Danny. “I just love this game. I remember, when I was a kid, I was staying in my aunt’s house on Isaac Parai street (now UN Avenue). I would make sabit to the jeep where the neighborhood team used to ride in going to tournaments. The team’s name then was Tanke and one of the players was Nilo Verona.

DANNY was 28 when he formed Crispa. The team played in backyard leagues and town fiestas in Tanay, Pateros, Antipolo, Taytay and other towns near Pasig. The team was winning one title after another. He finally got his father’s approval when Danny initiated an inter-department basketball tournament in the company.

Next, Danny entered the team in the BAA (Businessmen Athletic Association). He began enlisting top college players then, like Willie Sotelo, Charlie Dudds, Mario Uson, Eddie Pacheco, Roberto Yburan, Mike Littaua, Charlie Badion, Gerry Cruz, Jaime Lucas, Eddie Rivera, Alberto Nicdao, Andy de Jesus and Dominador Lauron. The team won the BAA championship twice and by 1958, Crispa was ready to go big time — the MICAA (Manila Industrial Commercial Athletic Association, forerunner of the PBA).

Yco was then the powerhouse squad, with Ysmael as Yco’s chief rival. Crispa was never a champion — until 1970, when the team finally won a crown, the President’s Cup. “The President was present then and Imee, ay, batam-bata pa,” said Danny.

It marked the start of Crispa’s dominance of Philippine basketball.

Crispa stashed away virtually all titles up for grabs from 1971 — the All-Filipino, Open (with American imports), MICAA, national senior invitationals.

In 1973, some of the team’s players got involved in a game-fixing scandal. Danny kicked out seven of his players suspected of having connived with game-fixers — Adriano Papa, Jr., Danilo Florencio, Epoy Alcantara, Rey Franco, Virgilio Abarrientos, Rudolf Kutch and Ernesto de Leon. Thus, it was back to square one for Crispa, which emerged winless that year.

Danny needed just one year to resurrect his team. In 1974, Crispa regained its old winning ways, pocketing all four titles for the year: Palarong Pambansa, national seniors, MICAA and the Invitationals.

When the pro league was born in 1975, Crispa and rival Toyota were the hottest teams in the land. Toyota won the first two titles of the league that year at the expense of Crispa. But in the year’s deciding third conference, Crispa got back at Toyota. That win ignited the longest winning title streak for any team in the history of the loop — six straight from 1975 to 1977, including the first-ever sweep of all three conferences in 1976 for Crispa’s first grand slam.

Crispa not only become a byword. It has become legend.

Sales of Crispa T-shirts broke all-time records.

Every collegiate player dreamed of joining the team after finishing school.

Crispa players were being idolized.

Some of the team’s stars were being endlessly offered movie careers.

Suddenly, basketball players became celebrities, at times dining and rubbing elbows with the country’s dignitaries and the well-heeled.

Crispa had put basketball on a pedestal, a sport that became the shortcut to fame and fortune.

To become a Crispa player was a status symbol.

If you were friend of a Crispa player, you must be someone rich, or someone special. A big shot.

“Although I have not played in Crispa’s glorious years, I have always considered myself a Crispa fan,” said Robert Jaworski, himself a Crispa player in 1965. When Crispa became inactive in the MICAA in 1966, Jaworski triggered a tug-of-war between Yco and Ysmael, each desperately trying to lure the “Big J” into their team. In the heat of the fight, Elizalde said, “We will never buy any steel cabinet from Admiral (Ysmael).” What happened next was that Jaworski signed up for Meralco.

Danny Floro, who plays golf very often these days, is now talking of building a museum to house all of Crispa’s memorabilia.

“It’s going to be a treasure house,” Danny said. “Admission will be free.”

A crate of no less than 20 championship trophies plucked from almost 30 years of basketball wars, 13 of them from the tough, prestige-laden PBA, surely is a treasure to cherish; 13 more came from either second or third place finishes.

“We may be gone forever, who knows,” Danny said. “but to all the people out there, we’ll build them a museum as our token of appreciation for the support they’ve given us when we were still around.”

Until that museum is completed, Crispa’s legion of fans will be in mourning.