He strode inside the Philippine Basketball Association boardroom dressed in a royal blue round neck shirt and dark pants for an informal Q&A.
It was a getup one would not normally associate with somebody who runs the affairs of the Philippine Basketball Association, the country’s premier basketball league.
But there he was, clad in everyday attire, a look that is more suited to the mall doing a fist-bump — instead of the customary handshake — with someone he usually doesn’t bump into on a regular basis.
Still, PBA commissioner Willie Marcial and the fellow who came to see him hit it off immediately as if they have known each other for ages.
“How’s everything?” he asked.
“Great,” the man said.
But he looked flabbergasted when told that it’s been ages since the dude had covered a game, much less paid the league a visit.
Almost three decades, Marcial was told.
His eyes squinted and they began to light up when the fellow spoke about certain things from the past that only those who covered the beat knew.
There was Norman Black’s dazzling dark-colored Datsun Z car; the late Jun Bernardino’s sparkling silver Mitsubishi Galant Super Saloon; and the pig-out place fronting the gate of the PBA’s offices at the Cuneta Astrodome that hosted many a drinking sprees involving the boys of the PBA beat, league officials, players and coaches.
In a snap, Marcial was back in his element.
After another round of reminiscing, the two got down to business.
But given Marcial’s light and bubbly persona, it was difficult to keep the conversation dead-serious since the agenda wasn’t just some random thing.
Instead, the planned hour-long talk became almost two hours with the two discussing topics ranging from cars to Covid-19 and a chunk of his seemingly ordinary background that propelled him into leading the Philippines’ foremost cage league.
Wilfrido Marcial, known in the local sports community simply as “Willie,” was born more than 60 years ago in Quezon City.
In the early 1980s, he got himself into the buying and selling of second-hand cars after hanging around with a relative who had a shop that also dabbled in repairs.
“We bought cars, not vintage cars but models that were very popular during that time,” Marcial, a product of the University of the East, said one Thursday afternoon.
“We even went to far-flung places just to buy them.”
One particular model that Marcial fondly remembered was the Mitsubishi Lancer L-type and its equally-popular contemporaries like the Galant, Colt and the Celeste.
Soon after, he got a job doing stats in the PBA.
“It was 1984 and I remember we would bring them at night to Crispa coach Tommy Manotoc,” Marcial said, adding that unlike today, the stats during those years had to be done manually.
“Before, you won’t get game stats right after the game while you are talking to the media. It took a lot of time for it to be completed.”
During that time, Manotoc had a penchant for them, Marcial observed.
He said it was only Manotoc who asked for the stat sheets and it dawned on him years later that the Redmanizers mentor was simply ahead of his time.
From a mere statistician, Marcial then found himself being hired by Vintage Enterprises, the broadcast company that aired the PBA games on television.
“Panel scorer,” Marcial said.
Soon after, another offer came knocking.
“I then became a floor director for two to three years.”
Marcial had become so good at what he was doing that he received an offer for a full-time director’s job.
“That’s when I told them that I can’t because doing so would prevent me from going outside. I love being around people. And if I accepted that I would spend a lot of time inside a TV van.”
A few years later, Marcial would take on a role that was kind of unheard of at that time: PBA Media Bureau chief.
Since he was friends with those who pounded the beat, Marcial didn’t even need a break-in period to do his job, a stint that would prove to be vital in his selection as the officer-in-charge and eventually the PBA’s 10th commissioner in 2018.
At first, Marcial was reluctant to accept the post.
Even friends and his family were not tickled pink by the prospects of him running the PBA.
Why me?
That was what Marcial, who felt he would be a lot more effective as someone working behind the scenes, told everyone who asked him about the job.
“My father was against it but it was my grandfather who made me change my mind,” he said, noting that his father relented when the old man gave a piece of his mind.
“He was the one who told me to take it.”
But Marcial thought he still had some unfinished business.
Before deciding to accept, he called on the PBA governors for a weekend trip to Hong Kong.
A few days later, a deal was set in place.
A couple of years into his tenure came Covid.
“That has to be the most challenging and daunting,” Marcial said, his face taking a sullen look.
With the entire country paralyzed, Marcial had to do something drastic.
“The PBA employees were calling me and asking when the league would return because they have families to feed, problems to attend to. I knew how they felt at that time and I told myself that something has to be done.”
Given his closeness with Senator Christopher “Bong” Go, who was then the right-hand man of President Rodrigo Duterte, Marcial went the extra mile and reached out to Malacañang.
‘There was a lot of uncertainty but something had to be done.’
With the world living in fear, Marcial thought that somebody had to take the lead.
And that he was that guy, and no one else, who had to make the first move.
His efforts paid off and the PBA was allowed to do a bubble tournament in Clark, Pampanga, from October to December 2020 with the blessing of the Inter-Agency Task Force.
“There was a lot of uncertainty but something had to be done.”
Marcial could only wonder what could have happened if the PBA chose to remain closed.
Though his credentials pale in comparison with the first nine commissioners, Marcial had one thing that not even the most decorated had.
He rose from the ranks.
“I started from the bottom. I talk to everyone in the league. I even talk to fans seated up in the gallery so that I know what their sentiments are. I do that regularly.”
And his frequent trips to the nose-bleed seats have confirmed one of his fears.
The rise of social media and the power of the Internet have affected gate attendance.
Unlike before when people came in droves to the venue, even the most ardent of fans have been forced to stay home.
“Economics,” Marcial said.
Also, since most people have access to the Internet, watching the games on their smartphones has become the new normal not to mention that Filipinos now have access to other forms of entertainment.
“There was a time when the PBA was the only one but now you have volleyball and other basketball leagues. You also have boxing and other sports,” Marcial admitted.
Even the emergence of new leagues in Asia, which offers salaries even the richest PBA clubs can’t afford, has been hurting the league.
“The players are seeking greener pastures so why would you prevent them from doing what they think is best for their families?”
But Marcial is a firm believer that PBA will always be home.
The lure of playing on home soil remains strong.
Still, Marcial is not resting on his laurels.
In the next few years, Marcial would like to see more regular season games being played abroad and plans are afoot for these to happen.
“In the Middle East, across Southeast Asia, in Europe and in the United States.”
Clearly, the PBA is alive and kicking.
And by the time Marcial calls it a day as commissioner in 2027, the league would still be where it is right now: On top.
“I have been with the PBA the last 40 years of my life. More than half of my life.”
In the event he gets replaced or decides to give the job to somebody else, Marcial has one wish.
“If I step down as commissioner, I would like to remain with the league.”
As a member of the stats group?
Nah.
“I told them, when I leave, kindly give me back my old title.”
The answer: The PBA’s one and only PR guy.
Take a bow, Willie Marcial.