Just like Jose Mari Chan's "Christmas in our hearts" blasting from every mall come the 1st of September in the Philippines, my favorite sport is criticized every time the Olympics comes around.

And the 2024 Paris Olympics is no different as much like when weightlifting Hidilyn Diaz gave the Philippines its first-ever gold medal in the zenith of sports competitions four years prior in Tokyo, the two gold medals of gymnast Carlos Yulo has been used by some critics as an opportune time to drag basketball once again in the mud.

They argue that the hundreds of million spent by conglomerates bankrolling their PBA teams could be better utilized propping up sports that the country has a better chance in medaling not only in the Olympics but also in other regional competitions like the Asian Games and SEA Games. Some say Filipinos are also not genetically inclined to play hoops as we're vertically challenged.

All true, but sometimes you really can't teach the heart who to love—or in this case what sport to be obsessed about.

Kudos to Yulo and Diaz, but for heaven's sake what did basketball ever do to you? And yes, the Philippines did win a basketball medal before the whole world caught up. That was in 1954 in Rio de Janeiro and a bronze with the original King Caloy—Carlos Loyzaga, the father of some of my favorite Ginebra players Chito and Joey Loyzaga—at the helm.

The funny thing is those with pitchforks wanting an end to Filipinos' obsession with basketball probably haven't played the sport.

I got into basketball when my mom bought me a mini spheroid and basketball ring. I was probably 11 or 12. At 13 years old, my freshman high school classmates would crumple perfectly good pad paper to fashion into a basketball with our basket the 5-inch gap where the sign at the entrance of our room hung.

We eventually graduated to playing 3-on-3 near the old FPJ Productions lot at the back of San Marcelino St. As it was along the street—what perfectly good makeshift basketball court in the country isn't—our dribbles, hook shots, and pull-up jumpers wouldn't be counted whenever cars have to pass by—grrrr.

Missing geometry class in lieu of basketball with like-minded tropa, shooting hoops during a field trip at the Parks and Wildlife in QC, and even playing 1-on-1 with our corps commander when I was still an JROTC cadet—and even beating him—were some of the highlights of my "playing" years in high school.

This was the late '80s and some say the peak of Ginebra's never-die-spirit with the Living Legend himself Robert "Sonny" Jaworski leading the charge.

Even our nicknames had some connection with basketball as batang '80s (kids of the 1980s) usually go by hoop superstars' names of that era. I myself was nicknamed Sonny Boy by my family in obvious reference to the Big J. My little brother was called Arnie and one of my best friends answered to the name Tembong (for Arnulfo Tuadles and Tembong Melencio, respectively).

In college, I remember forgoing many afternoon classes for the occasional—OK frequent—basketball game. One particular game at the Molave Residence Hall had four other players named "Mark" join me in a 5-on-5 game to the disbelief or our opponents.

Working in my first job at an indexing company at the old GenTex compound in Libis, me and my officemates would often play against "kargadors" (sometimes even in my Doc Martens). Nowadays, I'm officially "retired" from the sport due to my ravaged knees (thanks Doc Marten) and my busy work schedule. Still, I will defend the Filipinos' obsession with the sport James Naismith invented.

Perhaps it's the accessibility of basketball that's the main reason why it's so engrained to the Filipinos' sporting zeitgeist. The only time I "dabbled" in gymnastics was when I tripped going up the stage during practice for theater, while I was mistaken for a weightlifter when I covered the 2003 Pacific Mini Games in Suva, Fiji.

Basketball, volleyball, weightlifting, gymnastics, black 1-2-3, patintero, tumbang preso...why can't we just all get along?