Memoir of a Retiring Basketball Wife

Allow me to share the sweetest letter I've received in my life that moved me to tears. Happy Valentine's Day everyone :)

Memoir of a Retiring Basketball Wife
an [open] letter to my husband 

By Clarisse Tiu

November 3, 2018

As I look through the clips of messages from past coaches and teammates, videos of game winning shots, pictures of wonderful memories made, I’m suddenly getting cold feet. Many times we scoffed at Christmas day games and grueling practices taking precedence over family events. But in this moment, I asked myself, “Is this the right time to retire? Will you have regrets, leaving at the top of your game? Are we ready for this career change, financially? Emotionally?” I was afraid for you to stay but anxious to leave at the same time. 

I look back on the past 20 years I’ve known you, and basketball is all you’ve known. You’ve been playing competitively since you were 10. Being in a long relationship, I had the benefit and burden of seeing you through almost all your playing years. I guess you could say that the only other thing that has outlived our relationship, save for your family, is basketball. The sport was your first love, and your longest running love story to date. It’s given you your share of heartbreaks and joys, just like any other love story. Allow me to recount a few… 

I sometimes imagine you as a small and skinny boy, running out of a room full of players, to pray the rosary, so as not to commit sin. It made me cry when you mentioned it during your commencement speech at Xavier because I silently hoped we would have a son like you. Basketball gave you opportunities to choose to be good, even at an early age.   

You recently told me a story of how at 10 years old, your team was forced to ride a ferry boat back to Manila in a storm, and how you were throwing up seasick the whole way home, having no one but your older teammates to look after you. You also played a lot of out of town games throughout your career, sometimes even sleeping on classroom floors, without ever a single complaint. I think that basketball taught you resilience. You never made a big deal of personal comforts, despite growing up in a well to do family. 

I remember how in your Ateneo years, you once bore the humiliation missing a wide open layup against your school’s Arch rivals to hand them the victory, and how you could not raise your head in school the next day. Basketball taught you humility – that even a most prized recruit could fall and fail badly.
 

The 2008 season your team won the Ateneo championship, you were dubbed the “King Eagle” and it seemed the weight of the world was on your shoulders. You would worry about the Ateneo community and how you wanted so much to give them the championship they longed for and deserved. I recall receiving calls from you at 3 or 4:00am after games, just wanting someone to listen to your thoughts on the loss, or just be there on the other line. Looking back, we often say how serendipitous it was that you skipped a playing year to do your JTA, so that you could come back to play that one more year under Coach Norman, and finally win the championship against La Salle. Basketball taught you not to crumble under the weight of the world, and that if you stay strong and work patiently, great things will happen.  

In Wuhan, I had the privilege of supporting you as a national athlete in the Olympic qualifier. And when your team fell short vs Korea in the battle for 3rd, you described it to me as your heart breaking “into a million pieces”. You took weeks or even months to get over that loss. Basketball taught you that no matter how much you want something, if it’s not meant for you, you accept, and find the strength to move on. 

In your PBA career, you weren’t the always the top scorer or captain ball. You took to the statistics to motivate yourself, “Plus-minus”, you said, “It’s how many points your team is winning or losing by when you’re on the court. It’s the intangibles.” You prided yourself in the fact that you could make a difference in the small things, even if no one took notice. Basketball taught you to be a role player, take a back seat, and keep working hard, even if it goes unnoticed.  

When you had struggles with your Coach, you spoke passionately about it almost daily to me, dreading the mood at practice, not needing the stress, and wanting to quit. In time, you both managed to turn around the situation and built an even better relationship through trust. You also saw many things happening on the sidelines, which sparked betrayal and made us both frustrated and cynical about the sport. And when you went down hard on the floor when Malcolm White got you clean, and you suffered one of the worst injuries of your life, I told myself the PBA would not have been worth it if the injury was any worse! But it taught us both to be humble, adjust and keep on giving your best, regardless of the odds and even if not everybody was honorable.  

In your team, you would always share with me stories of unsung heroes like your teammate Dexter, whose child was born blind, but still commutes 3 hours each way from Pampanga to practice and was equally hard working each day despite the sorrow and hardship. Another one was your ball boy whose only son passed away suddenly from a bout of pneumonia, and yet absented himself only to bury his son, and promptly appeared at practice the next day. And then you humanized your imports who were sometimes commoditized, being just as good as their last game. You told me their stories about their families, their past, and how hard they worked despite being away from home and their loved ones. I think basketball taught you count your blessings, and helped you develop an understanding and fondness of people who did not grow up like you.
 

As one of your past teammates, Jvee Casio, said about you, you do things with much love, and that’s what sets you apart from others. It is not your height, skill, or athleticism, but rather your love and generosity in sharing yourself that does. They say, how one treats those who have nothing to offer them, shows you how a person really is. If you wonder why people care so much about you, it’s because you somehow show them you care. You don’t choose who deserves your generosity, be it the event security at the arena, to the ticketing ladies, to the fans, ball boys, your teammates, coaching staff or management.

The sport opened doors for you unlike any of your other contemporary players. You used basketball to your advantage, socially and financially, but never abused its benefits. You only used it for good things. I would like to believe that you carried yourself in a fashion befitting of an instrument of God. In return, God was very good to you. You asked and received, the most incredible final game that you could have asked for. A Career high, 30 points. Best player and Amanda being able to sit on your lap in the post game interview. All your fans and teammates were so supportive of you, sincerely wanting you to succeed.  I don’t think there could be any better memory of your last game. My only regret is that our children will not have seen what a great ball player you are. 

As you end your career, it is obvious that your family and I are beyond proud of what you have achieved. I have so much gratitude for the life we have, thanks to this sport. The game has seen you through childhood, puberty, bachelorhood, marriage, and now fatherhood. It has taught you valuable lessons that no person or academic degree can ever replicate. It’s been one hell of a ride, alongside you in every sleepless night, enduring your aches and pains, mourning your losses, fighting your battles, and celebrating your sweetest victories with you. Our hearts ached when yours ached and jumped for joy when yours did too. I will surely miss the pre-game routine of you lifting at the gym 48 hours before, getting your steak protein fix 24 hours before – always medium rare, Air Relax before bedtime, and only pasta, “no-touch” policy on game day. But then again, I don’t think it will be the end of your love affair with the game. I look forward to the ways that you will continue to grow and give back, to the sport that has given us so much. Congrats on a career well done and I love you very much!