MAPPED | ANTON ASISTIO'S COLD-BLOODED FREE THROWS

This is the face of a man who just lucked out.

Just when you thought Yeng Guiao would storm off to the locker room in pure rage—ready to tear into his players after almost blowing a 19-point deficit—he somehow escapes disaster.

And this is the face of a man still trapped in coaching hell.

It’s not like Johnedel Cardel’s career has always been this rough. He was once at the top—winning two championships alongside Jun Limpot with the DLSU Green Archers, then repeating the feat in the PABL under the Magnolia banner. He even captured a PBA title with Alaska in 1994.

Cardel later became best known as John Ferriols’ reliable running mate with the Negros Slashers in the MBA. The Slashers eventually won a championship in 2002, but by then, Cardel had already moved to the Olongapo Volunteers to team up with Jeffrey Flowers.

That said, coaching hasn’t been kind to the former high-flying forward. His biggest accomplishment so far was steering the Terrafirma Dyip to the quarterfinals—finally—behind Stephen Holt, Juami Tiongson, Isaac Go, and Javi Gomez de Liaño. But before he could build on that success, his key players were shipped off to the SMC teams through one-sided trades. Eventually, he said enough and resigned.

Anyway, I really can’t help but feel bad for Joshua Munzon. It’s like he had the worst possible time to have a mental lapse.

I’ll be honest—I only know how to collect stats. I don’t really know how to play basketball.

The only reason I got into the sport was because I love watching it, not playing it. Whenever I did try to play, my only contributions were setting screens on offense and playing honest defense. I’d always tell my teammates not to pass me the ball because I was scared of dribbling and turning it over.

So yeah, I feel for Munzon.

Still, I think every Filipino basketball fan knows one golden rule: never foul a three-point shooter, especially when the game is on the line.

On the other end, we have Anton Asistio. No offense to him, but I doubt he’d have lasted this long in the PBA if he weren’t in the Rain or Shine system. He first played under Chris Gavina’s version of the Elasto Painters, but the Rain or Shine mentality has been in his DNA from the start.

He belongs to that long line of Yeng Guiao-beloved overachievers—players who maximize effort and grit over talent. Think of Guiao’s past squads: from Al Solis' twin Mythical Fives in Pop Cola after riding the Purefoods bench, to Junthy Valenzuela, Topex Robinson, Lordy Tugade, and Cyrus Baguio in Red Bull. That same underdog spirit carried over to guys like Beau Belga, Ronnie Matias, Jireh Ibañes, Jonathan Uyloan—and now, Jhonard Clarito, Andrei Caracut, Adrian Nocum, and of course, Asistio.

Asistio’s story is fascinating. An Atenean who spent most of his UAAP career behind bigger names, he has thrived in Guiao’s no-superstar system. He may be small, but Asistio is hella smart. This guy won a UAAP title under Tab Baldwin in a team stacked with 14 future PBA players.

It makes me wonder—if Jai Reyes or Macky Escalona had played under Yeng Guiao, would their PBA careers have been better?

After the game, Coach Yeng praised Asistio for instinctively going to the four-point area, even though they only needed a three to tie. The four-point line has been a running joke among fans—and honestly, I’m not a big fan of it either.

But it does make the dying seconds fun.

Ironically, ever since it was introduced, the number of attempts from that spot has dropped. And I honestly believe this kind of gimmick might be one reason why PBA players struggle internationally.

Still, if that four-point zone is a weapon, what player wouldn’t dream of going 5-for-5 from there?

When I play fantasy basketball, the first thing I check is the league rules. In a 9-cat head-to-head league, a shoot-first point guard is usually a liability—low field goal percentage, too many turnovers, minimal blocks, and limited assists. But in a points league, that same player becomes a gold mine because of volume and usage. It’s all about knowing the system, understanding the rules, and adjusting your playstyle accordingly.

That’s exactly what Asistio did. He knew he could make that four-pointer, and he knew Munzon would try to defend it. So he drew contact—and the rest is history. You could see Munzon pleading his case, but even his teammates and coaches knew he messed up.

Rain or Shine’s identity is built on thriving under pressure, and that’s why Asistio’s effort stood out.

Maybe Coach Johnedel Cardel was in shock, or maybe he wanted to save his last timeout so Titan Ultra could set up a play with 2.1 seconds left. But if I were him and had an extra timeout, I would’ve used it—just to ice Asistio a bit before those crucial free throws.

Didn’t matter, though. Asistio stayed stone-cold, sinking all four free throws to give Rain or Shine a one-point lead. Calvin Abueva, who had a monster game with 31 points and 18 rebounds, tried to bank in the game-winner amidst defenders but missed. Rain or Shine escaped with a come-from-behind win.

Asistio finished with 11 points—nothing eye-popping—but for him, it was a moment to remember.

Still, I believe Munzon will bounce back from this, just like Gian Mamuyac did when he fouled Calvin Oftana in Game 2 of the 2024-25 PBA Philippine Cup semifinals.

And that’s the problem with players who are used to losing: nobody expects them to win, and that mindset sometimes causes them to lose even when they have the chance. I’m not saying this to insult Munzon—it’s just reality. When NorthPort faced San Miguel in the 2024–25 Commissioner’s Cup semis, they looked tentative and easily rattled. You also see shades of that in Will Navarro, too, especially after Magnolia traded for him in the Philippine Cup, expecting a deep playoff run.

That’s why Calvin Abueva was emotional after missing that last shot. The Beast knows what it takes to win—and that game was supposed to be theirs. It’s just unfortunate that his teammates weren’t seasoned enough, and his tag-team partner was the one who fumbled the opportunity.

The worst part? Abueva lost his cool in the locker room.

He didn't, by the way.

The best part? He’s channeling that fire into teaching his Titan Ultra teammates what it really means to win. Moments like this are part of their growing pains—painful, yes, but necessary for a team still learning how to turn effort into victory.

I doubt the Giant Risers will contend for a title this season—unless they somehow bring back Kadeem Jack and he turns the Commissioner’s Cup into his personal redemption arc. The team is gritty, no doubt, but they’re still lacking in talent. Hopefully, these growing pains lead them to a prized rookie in the 2027 draft.