THOUGHTS | RESERVED SEATING ARRANGEMENTS

There’s been a topic circulating on social media after Jeck Maierhofer—wife of former DLSU star Rico Maierhofer—suggested that the UAAP should reserve front-row seats for the parents or families of the players. Naturally, it drew plenty of backlash.

My short answer? Yes, players deserve to see their families close by.

First, while fans treat this as a school rivalry or a pride battle, for parents, siblings, girlfriends, and wives, this is a milestone moment. Think of it like a graduation, an awards ceremony, or a recital. Sure, the roaring crowd boosts a player’s adrenaline on the court, but their family provides emotional fuel off it.

Second, optics matter. If you’re part of the broadcast team—especially the director—you need crowd cutaways after big moments. When Jacob Cortez hit that dagger three, the cameras immediately cut to Mike Cortez surrounded by fired-up La Salle fans.

Moments like that complete the story of a player's hard work and dedication.

Finally, it’s a bad look when parents are stuck wandering the lobby, scrambling for scalpers, and paying ridiculous prices just to watch their kid play. A lot of players can’t afford to bring their families to Manila or pay for lower-bowl seats. Some parents even travel from the province just to end up in the worst sections of the arena.

But of course, there have to be limits.

First, there should be a set number of complimentary seats reserved specifically for parents. Players must coordinate with their schools ahead of time. And there has to be a cap. When Jeck mentioned Rico once getting 12 seats for family and friends, I understand why people reacted. Imagine 15–18 players plus coaches doing that in the Finals—impossible.

Two guaranteed seats per player seems reasonable. If a player needs more, they can coordinate with team officials or teammates who aren’t using theirs. Yes, it looks awkward when families aren’t sitting together—but those premium seats are also where schools place their big patrons and sponsors.

Can you imagine someone like Manny Pangilinan—who pours millions into the Ateneo and San Beda basketball programs—being forced to sit in the nosebleed section just because his assistant forgot to reserve seats? Or picture a high-profile guest, maybe an NBA player or a foreign personality, coming to the arena simply wanting to experience what Philippine basketball is all about, only to end up stuck far from the action.

And finally: families deserve to be close, but not too close. They need to be far enough that no overzealous parent can throw a water bottle at a coach for not fielding their son, shout instructions from the sideline, or feed players information they saw on the livestream. I’ve seen parents yell at benches and even try to communicate plays. And they definitely shouldn’t be in a position to rush the court during a heated moment.

Yes, some fans storm the court after big wins—Tyrese Haliburton’s dad running toward Giannis after the Pacers beat the Bucks is a great example. But for safety reasons, families shouldn’t be within jumping distance of the action. Placing them a few rows back forces them to go through other spectators and security before getting anywhere near the floor.

All in all, families absolutely deserve complimentary seats. But players must request them properly, and those seats should be positioned where the only interaction possible is a simple glance—a quiet but powerful reminder that someone out there is proudly watching their guy.