THOUGHTS | THE CEBU CLASSIC DEBACLE
- Syd Salazar
- 2 days ago
- 5 min read

I saw a Facebook post from Snow Badua highlighting how deep the Batangas Tanduay Rhum Masters' bench is compared to the Cebu Classics. Cebu only had six players.
Ewww.
Now, you can say all you want about how empty the PBA arenas are, but when the number of active players on a team is fewer than what you’d find on a full FX ride, that says a lot. It’s a testament to how wrong it was for the MPBL to expand so rapidly—spreading teams far and wide without giving a damn about the actual competency or sustainability of these franchises.
The MPBL is supposed to be both a commercial league and a league representing the top cities and municipalities in the Philippines.
So, to see a Cebu team in this kind of situation?
Shocking.
Cebu has June Mar Fajardo—arguably the province’s poster boy for basketball excellence. But more than that, Cebu is a heartland of hoops legends dating back to the early days of Philippine basketball. It has a rich lineup of colleges and universities and even its own city-based commercial league. It shouldn’t be hard for an MPBL Cebu team to find both manpower and local support.
And besides, this is the Philippines—we're a smorgasbord of basketball talent. If the manpower isn’t there, a team can always relocate. This isn’t about the players or the city. This is about how the MPBL hands out franchise spots to owners who don’t deserve them.
Regardless of any excuse, owning a team comes with responsibility. A team owner should be required to keep the franchise in fighting form for at least three to five seasons. Period.
I may trash the hell out of PBA farm teams, but at least those franchises, as flawed as they are, understand the value of responsibility. Sure, a lot of them exist to sell their stars to big-market squads, but at the very least, they maintain their rosters and try to keep the franchise alive until they can sell it off.
Take the Barako Bull Energy Boosters, for example. They were originally Red Bull when they entered the PBA in 2000. They're the only PBA team that ever quit midseason—but even that didn’t happen abruptly. They took a leave of absence after completing the 2010–11 Philippine Cup. Their disbandment stemmed from contract disputes, but thanks to Commissioner Chito Salud and the management still trying to honor their responsibilities, players and staff still received what was due to them.
The cracks in Red Bull began to show as early as 2007, when they traded Enrico Villanueva to San Miguel in exchange for Rommel Adducul—who they then flipped to Purefoods for Don Camaso. That trade might have worked in the MBA, but in the PBA, at that point in their careers, Adducul was a star waiting to explode, while Camaso was a benchwarmer who had lost his way after being sent from Talk 'N Text to Alaska for the draft rights to Jimmy Alapag.
Even as Red Bull slowly lost their stars to other teams, they managed to stay competitive because Yeng Guiao had that rare ability to turn chicken shit into chicken gold. But when Red Bull lost its name, Guiao left for Air21/Burger King, financial instability hit hard, and George Chua—the team’s biggest backer—passed away during Typhoon Ondoy, the team began to falter. Still, they survived until they couldn’t. And after that? Barako Bull lived on—this time as the new name of the old FedEx/Air21 franchise. That brand managed to stick around until they sold the team to the current Phoenix Fuel Masters.
Over the years, we've seen other PBA franchises handle things with grace—even amid turbulent circumstances. San Miguel took a leave of absence during the 1986 People Power Revolution and returned. Tanduay sold off its players to the same corporation it once loathed. Shell, Coca-Cola, Air21, and Alaska all exited the league when their corporate backers pulled the plug—but none of them disbanded midseason, and there was very little controversy involved.
Sure, the MPBL has had game-fixing issues—but so have the PBA and various college leagues throughout history. But the biggest issue with the MPBL? It’s the idea that as long as someone can afford the franchise fee, they’re handed a team—no questions asked about their ability or willingness to sustain it. That’s not how you build a long-lasting league.
And look, the MPBL has some great franchises. Pampanga, for example, took their MPBL success all the way to the PBA via Converge. San Juan, Abra, Quezon, Nueva Ecija, Batangas, and the Manny Pacquiao-owned Gensan Warriors all have the talent, resources, and support systems to make a move to the pros.
Historically, PBA teams had to prove their worth in developmental leagues first. Purefoods, Swift, Sta. Lucia, Tanduay, Red Bull, Rain or Shine, and NorthPort all came from the PABL/PBL. NLEX and Blackwater earned their spots via the PBA D-League. Even FedEx/Air21’s roots trace back to their MBA stint. And team owners like Dioceldo Sy of Blackwater didn’t just show up out of nowhere—he supported the women’s national team, backed the WPBL, and managed past PBL teams like Blu Detergent Kings and Dazz Dishwashing Liquid.
Even the MVP Group had to test if it could handle multiple teams by fielding the Smart-Pampanga Buddies in Liga Pilipinas before going all in with TNT, Meralco, and NLEX. And before Converge made sure to secure their two-time MPBL MVP Justine Baltazar, MVP's crew did the same with Pampanga Buddies star Jared Dillinger.
At the end of the day, running a basketball team isn’t just about cutting a check. You need to be in it for the long haul—with a clear vision, a real game plan, and the resources to back it up. That’s even more critical in a league like the MPBL, where local fans expect their teams to represent their cities with pride.
Sure, some teams are bad. But many of them are bad for a reason—because they’re committed to giving their homegrown talent a shot. And that’s commendable. These squads serve as stepping stones for aspiring pros, the same way the MBA once helped launch the careers of guys like Dondon Hontiveros and Peter June Simon.
The MPBL has addressed a lot of the issues that plagued the MBA. And yes, the MBA had teams that folded after a season—but at least those teams completed their campaigns with a full roster and a coaching staff willing to go down swinging.
Now, contrast that with what happened recently when Batangas absolutely obliterated Cebu, 131 to 65. Dennis Santos, formerly of St. Clare, led Batangas with 22 points. Ladis Lepalam, the ex-Benilde Blazer, tallied a double-double with 15 points and 10 boards. Former PBA player Gryann Mendoza chipped in seven points and eight assists. And then there was Philip Paniamogan—he dropped 46 points, hitting 15 threes. That’s just 19 points shy of outscoring the entire Cebu roster. Throw in Dawn Ochea’s 20 points, and just two players were enough to serve Cebu an ass-whooping of biblical proportions.
And here’s the sad part—those six Cebu players showed up. They played. They gave their best. But they’re stuck representing a franchise that’s giving them its worst. It’s easy to laugh at a team like Cebu and call them a free kill, but let’s not forget: they’ve already notched four wins. That means Caloocan, Manila, Quezon City, and Mindoro could be kicking themselves if they lose out on a playoff spot because of a tiebreaker against a team whose management clearly doesn’t give a damn.
Like I said in a previous blog: for some rich kid, owning a team might be a dream. But actually running and maintaining one? That’s the nightmare part.
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