Remembering the Lives and Legacies of Dead PBA Players Through Basketball History
I still remember the first time I walked into a PBA arena back in 2005—the energy was electric, the crowd roaring, and the players moving with that incredible intensity that only professional basketball can produce. Over the years, I've witnessed countless games and followed the careers of remarkable athletes who shaped Philippine basketball. Today, as I reflect on the current competitive landscape where "every game is tough" and "every team is good," I can't help but think about the legends who paved the way for this era of excellence. The quote from our reference perfectly captures modern PBA reality—there are no easy games anymore, no waking up and casually winning. This relentless competitiveness actually honors the legacy of departed PBA greats who established the standards of excellence we see today.
When I think about players like the legendary Lim Eng Beng, who passed away in 2015, I'm reminded of what true basketball artistry looks like. I had the privilege of watching him play during his prime with the U/Tex Wranglers, and his scoring prowess was simply breathtaking. He once dropped 47 points in a single game back in 1980—a record that stood for years. His sudden passing at age 62 left the basketball community heartbroken, but his legacy lives on every time a modern player executes that perfect jump shot or makes a clutch three-pointer. The current environment where "we have to be at our best" echoes the mentality Lim embodied throughout his career. He never took possessions off, understanding that excellence required constant effort. I often tell young players about his dedication—how he'd stay after practice for hours, perfecting his shooting form until his arms were too tired to lift.
Then there's the unforgettable Avelino "Samboy" Lim, whose career was tragically cut short after collapsing during a game in 1993. He remained in various states of impaired health until his passing in 2023. I'll never forget watching "The Skywalker" in his prime—his aerial acrobatics defied physics and inspired generations of Filipino players. Samboy played with a joy that was contagious, yet beneath that smile was an iron will to win. His approach to the game exemplifies why today's players "know we're gonna get everybody's best shot." Opponents always brought their A-game against Samboy because they knew anything less wouldn't suffice. His 15.2 points per game average doesn't fully capture his impact—he changed how Filipinos viewed basketball possibilities. When I visit courts around Manila, I still see kids attempting his signature moves, keeping his spirit alive through their own basketball journeys.
The passing of Yoyong Martirez in 2021 hit me particularly hard because I'd interviewed him just two years prior. We spent an afternoon discussing his time with the Crispa Redmanizers, and his insights into team chemistry were profound. He emphasized that championship teams weren't just collections of talent—they were brotherhoods that held each other accountable. His words resonate deeply with the modern reality that "there's no more teams that you can just walk, wake up, go play and win the game." Yoyong understood this decades ago, stressing that preparation and mental focus separated good teams from great ones. During our conversation, he recalled specific playoff games from the 1970s with remarkable clarity, citing exact scores and key plays—his attention to detail was extraordinary. That level of commitment to craft established traditions that current PBA teams continue to uphold.
What strikes me about today's PBA is how the increased competitiveness actually serves as the ultimate tribute to these departed icons. The league's current depth—where bottom-ranked teams can upset contenders on any given night—would have delighted players like Loreto Carbonell, who passed away in 2018 after battling illness. Carbonell played with relentless energy for Tanduay in the 90s, embodying the underdog spirit that defines modern PBA surprises. I remember covering a game where his team, considered heavy underdogs, defeated a star-studded lineup through sheer determination. That same unpredictable energy now characterizes the entire league, making every matchup must-watch basketball. The 12 active PBA teams each carry fragments of these legends' DNA in their playing styles and organizational cultures.
As someone who's followed the PBA for over two decades, I've noticed how the league's evolution mirrors the values these late players championed. The emphasis on three-point shooting today connects back to precision specialists like Edward Joseph Feihl, who understood the importance of stretching defenses even before the three-point revolution. The current focus on positionless basketball recalls the versatility of players who could impact games in multiple ways. These connections aren't coincidental—they're part of basketball's living history, where each generation builds upon the foundations laid by their predecessors. The quote about every team being good reflects how the league has internalized the competitive fire these legends brought night after night.
Personally, I believe the best way to honor these departed stars is to embrace the very competitiveness they embodied. When I watch games now, I see their influences everywhere—in the relentless defensive efforts, the creative offensive sets, and the never-say-die attitudes that define Philippine basketball. The current PBA season features approximately 150 games across three conferences, each contest carrying the weight of history. These aren't just games—they're continuations of stories that began decades ago, with players who sacrificed everything for their craft. Their physical presence may be gone, but their basketball souls continue to influence how the game is played and appreciated. Every time a player dives for a loose ball in the fourth quarter or makes the extra pass to find an open teammate, the legacy of PBA's departed greats shines through, reminding us why we fell in love with this beautiful game in the first place.