Let me be honest with you—when I first sat down to write about the 40 greatest players in PBA history, I thought it would be a straightforward task. But the more I dug into the archives, the more I realized how subjective and emotionally charged these rankings can be. I’ve been following the Philippine Basketball Association since the late ’90s, and I’ve seen legends rise, rivalries ignite, and legacies cemented in ways that numbers alone can’t capture. So when I came across Carlo Biado’s recent comments about the Reyes Cup—where he expressed surprise at Team Asia’s dominant 4-0 lead after Day One—it struck me how much setting the tone early defines greatness, whether we’re talking about billiards or basketball. That idea of momentum, of establishing dominance from the jump, is something I’ve noticed time and again among the PBA’s finest.

Let’s start with the obvious names—the Mount Rushmore figures, if you will. Anyone who knows even a little about the PBA will mention Ramon Fernandez, Alvin Patrimonio, Bogs Adornado, and Robert Jaworski. These aren’t just players; they’re institutions. I still remember watching Jaworski’s never-say-die attitude in the 1980s and thinking, "That’s what heart looks like." But here’s where it gets tricky: how do you weigh longevity against peak performance? Take Fernandez, for instance. The man has four MVP awards and over 18,000 points in his career—a staggering number, by the way—but I’ve always felt his impact went beyond stats. He was a cerebral player, the kind who made everyone around him better. On the other hand, you have someone like Patrimonio, whose consistency and loyalty to Purefoods made him a fan favorite for nearly two decades. I’ll admit it—I’m slightly biased toward players who spend their entire careers with one franchise. There’s something poetic about that kind of loyalty in today’s era of player movement.

Then there are the international stars who’ve left their mark, much like Carlo Biado in billiards, representing the Philippines on a global stage. I’m thinking specifically of imports like Norman Black and Bobby Parks. Black led San Miguel to a Grand Slam in 1989, a feat that’s only been matched a handful of times since. Parks, well, he was just unstoppable—seven Best Import awards speak for themselves. But what fascinates me is how these players adapted to the Filipino style of play. The PBA isn’t just about raw talent; it’s about flair, creativity, and that unmistakable "puso" mentality. I’ve always believed that the greatest imports weren’t just scorers—they were leaders who elevated local talent. That’s why I’d rank Parks slightly above some of the other legendary imports, even if the stats might suggest otherwise.

Now, let’s talk about the modern era—the last 15 years or so. This is where debates get really heated. Junemar Fajardo, for example, is an absolute force of nature. Six MVP awards? That’s not just impressive; it’s historic. But I’ll let you in on a little secret: as dominant as he is, I sometimes wonder how he’d fare in the physical, no-holds-barred ’80s and ’90s. The game has evolved, no doubt, but the legends from those decades played with a grit that’s hard to replicate today. Then there’s James Yap, whose clutch shooting and charisma made him a household name. I’ve had the privilege of watching him live a few times, and there’s an electricity in the arena when he has the ball in crunch time—something stats can’t fully capture. And let’s not forget about LA Tenorio, the iron man of the PBA. Over 740 consecutive games? That’s almost superhuman. In my book, durability like that deserves a spot in the top 40, even if he wasn’t always the flashiest player on the court.

But greatness isn’t just about individual brilliance; it’s about moments that define eras. Think back to the 2016 Governors’ Cup, when Ginebra won its first championship in eight years. The entire country seemed to hold its breath during that series. Moments like that remind me why I fell in love with the PBA in the first place—it’s more than a league; it’s a cultural touchstone. And that brings me back to Carlo Biado’s point about setting the tone early. In the PBA, we’ve seen teams and players who come out swinging from day one, much like Team Asia in the Reyes Cup. It’s that ability to seize momentum that separates the good from the truly great.

Of course, compiling a list like this means leaving out some incredible talents. I’ve probably overlooked a few favorites—maybe a Johnny Abarrientos or a Vergel Meneses—but that’s the beauty of these discussions. They’re never really finished. As the PBA continues to evolve, new legends will emerge, and old debates will resurface. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from years of watching and analyzing the game, it’s that greatness isn’t just about trophies or stats. It’s about impact—the way a player changes the game, inspires the next generation, and leaves a legacy that lasts long after they’ve hung up their jerseys. So, who are the 40 greatest players in PBA history? Well, that’s a conversation I’m happy to keep having, one game at a time.