The scent of sweat and polished hardwood floors hit me the moment I stepped into the MOA Arena, a familiar perfume for any die-hard PBA fan like myself. I found my usual seat, high enough to see the entire chessboard of the court, and watched the players warming up. Tiny figures from this distance, but I knew every move, every habit. Over on the San Miguel side, June Mar Fajardo was going through his methodical pre-game routine, a mountain of a man whose presence alone could shift the tectonic plates of a game. And then my eyes drifted to the Magnolia bench, searching for him. Ricardo "RHJ" Hill Jr. was there, but he was moving differently. A slight hesitation, a barely-there limp as he took a practice jumper. My heart sank a little. I’d heard the whispers, the rumors about his hamstring, but seeing it, even subtly, was a different thing altogether. This wasn’t just any game. This was the culmination of a grueling season, the grand finale we'd all been waiting for: the San Miguel vs Magnolia PBA Finals Showdown.
I remember pulling out my phone, the screen glowing in the dimming arena lights, and scrolling through the pre-game reports. That’s when I saw his quote, bold and defiant amidst all the clinical analysis. “I believe we can win, with or without me,” RHJ had added. It struck me, that statement. It wasn't just coach-speak or empty bravado. Coming from him, a player whose explosive drives to the basket are a core part of Magnolia's identity, it felt like a challenge thrown not just at San Miguel, but at his own team. It was a test of their system, their heart. Could they really do it if he was at 70%, or even less? Or was this the psychological gambit of the series, an attempt to make San Miguel prepare for two different versions of Magnolia—one with a supercharged RHJ, and one with a collective unit fueled by his belief?
The buzzer sounded, pulling me from my thoughts and plunging the arena into a roar. The first quarter was a feeling-out process, a tactical probe. CJ Perez, San Miguel's relentless two-way guard, was like a hawk, his eyes constantly scanning, waiting for a moment of defensive lapse from Paul Lee or Mark Barroca. That’s the first key matchup right there, the backcourt battle. Perez’s youthful, almost frantic energy against the veteran savvy and cold-blooded shooting of Lee. I’ve seen Lee win games with his shooting alone; I once watched him sink five three-pointers in a single quarter against Ginebra back in the 2019 Commissioner's Cup. But Perez is a different animal now. He’s averaging 18.5 points this conference, and his defense has become a nightmare for opposing ball-handlers. Every time Lee brought the ball up, Perez was there, a shadow that refused to be shaken. It was a fascinating, gritty duel playing out on the periphery of the main event.
And the main event, of course, was in the paint. June Mar Fajardo versus Ian Sangalang. This is the matchup that will ultimately decide the championship, in my not-so-humble opinion. Watching Fajardo work is like watching a master craftsman. There’s no wasted motion. He establishes position, demands the ball, and then it’s a simple turn, a drop-step, a soft hook shot that seems to defy gravity. Sangalang, to his immense credit, was giving him everything he had. He’s strong, he’s fundamentally sound, but facing Fajardo is a different dimension of basketball. In the second quarter, Fajardo caught the ball on the left block, took two deliberate dribbles, and powered through Sangalang for a monstrous and-one dunk that nearly tore the roof off the place. The entire stadium vibrated. You can’t stop that; you can only hope to contain it. San Miguel was building a lead, and it felt like the Beermen’s game to lose.
But then, the momentum shifted. It started with a defensive stop. RHJ, who had been relatively quiet, read a pass from Chris Ross, and with that explosive first step that seemed to momentarily defy his injury, he was gone. A clean steal, a coast-to-coast layup. It wasn't just the two points; it was the statement. A few possessions later, he did it again, drawing the defense and kicking out to a wide-open Calvin Abueva for a three. The Hotshots were climbing back. This is where RHJ’s value transcends the stat sheet. Even at less than 100%, his basketball IQ, his defensive instincts, and his sheer will are game-changers. He was proving his own point, embodying that pre-game belief. He might not be the primary scorer tonight, but he was the catalyst, the emotional engine. Magnolia ended the half on a 12-4 run, and we had a ball game. The score was tied 48-48, and the air was thick with tension.
Sitting there during halftime, sipping an overpriced soda, I couldn't help but lean towards Magnolia. Maybe it’s my bias for the underdog, for the team that has to fight and scrap for everything. San Miguel is a juggernaut, a collection of superstars. They’re the favorites for a reason. But there’s something about the cohesion of Magnolia, the way they move as a single, breathing organism on defense, that I find more compelling. If RHJ can manage his minutes and be that disruptive force in spurts, and if Paul Lee can catch fire from beyond the arc, I think they can pull off the upset. My prediction? This is going the full seven games. It’s going to be a brutal, physical war of attrition. I’m calling a 95-92 Game 1 victory for Magnolia, fueled by a heroic 18-point, 8-assist, 5-steal night from a hobbled but brilliant RHJ. San Miguel will rely too much on Fajardo, who will still put up a monster 28-point, 15-rebound line, but in the end, Magnolia’s collective heart and that one, defiant belief—“I believe we can win, with or without me”—will make the difference. The second half is about to start. Let’s see if I’m right.
