Reliving the Epic 1998 PBA Season: Top 10 Unforgettable Moments

I still get chills thinking about the 1998 PBA season—it was one of those magical years where everything seemed to align perfectly. As someone who has followed Philippine basketball for decades, I can confidently say that season was a masterclass in drama, skill, and unpredictability. It’s funny how coaching philosophies often shape these moments, and I’m reminded of that quote, "But ako as a coach, I lower my expectations because I want surprises." Well, the 1998 season delivered surprises in spades, and looking back, it’s clear why this era remains etched in the memories of fans like me.

Let’s start with the Alaska Aces’ grand slam run. Under Tim Cone’s guidance, they were a well-oiled machine, but what stood out to me was their Game 6 comeback against San Miguel in the Governors’ Cup finals. Down by 12 points with just over five minutes left, they clawed their way back, with Johnny Abarrientos hitting a clutch three-pointer that sealed the win. I remember watching that game with friends, and we were all on the edge of our seats—it was one of those moments where you could feel the momentum shift in the room. Abarrientos, all 5'8" of him, outmaneuvering taller defenders with his quickness and basketball IQ. That play alone solidified his status as one of the PBA’s all-time greats, and it’s a testament to how smaller players can dominate with the right strategy.

Then there was the emergence of Danny Ildefonso as Rookie of the Year. I’ll admit, I had my doubts about him early on—he was raw, and his stats in his first few games were modest, maybe averaging around 8 points and 6 rebounds. But by mid-season, he was putting up double-doubles consistently, and his duel with another rookie, Noy Castillo, in the All-Filipino Cup was pure theater. I recall one game where Ildefonso dropped 24 points and grabbed 14 rebounds, leading Shell to an overtime victory. It wasn’t just the numbers; it was his tenacity in the paint, something that made you sit up and take notice. As a fan, I’ve always had a soft spot for rookies who exceed expectations, and Ildefonso’s rise felt like watching a star being born in real-time.

The rivalry between Ginebra and Purefoods that season was another highlight for me. I’m biased, I’ll say it—I’ve been a Ginebra fan since the ’80s, and their games against Purefoods in the Commissioner’s Cup were nothing short of epic. Who could forget that brawl in Game 4? It started with a hard foul by Purefoods’ Jerry Codiñera on Ginebra’s Bal David, and before you knew it, players from both benches were involved. The league handed out suspensions totaling 15 games, and the fallout shifted the series dynamics. But what I loved was how Ginebra, led by Vergel Meneses, bounced back to win the next two games. Meneses scored 31 points in Game 5, including a buzzer-beating jumper that had the crowd roaring. That kind of resilience is why I think Ginebra has the most passionate fanbase—we feed off that underdog energy.

Speaking of underdogs, the Cinderella story of Mobiline in the All-Filipino Conference was something I didn’t see coming. They weren’t stacked with superstars, but their teamwork was impeccable. I vividly recall their semifinal series against Formula Shell, where they came back from a 1-2 deficit to win in five games. In the clincher, their point guard, Ronnie Magsanoc, dished out 12 assists and hit a crucial three-pointer in the final minute. As a basketball enthusiast, I appreciate how a well-executed system can trump individual talent, and Mobiline’s run was a perfect example. It’s moments like these that make me agree with lowering expectations as a coach—you never know when a team will surprise you with sheer heart.

Of course, no discussion of 1998 is complete without mentioning the iconic dunk by Kenneth Duremdes over Asi Taulava in the Governors’ Cup. Duremdes was already a star, but that play—a one-handed slam over the 6'9" Taulava—was pure artistry. I was at that game, and the arena erupted in a way I’ve rarely seen since. Statistically, Duremdes finished with 28 points that night, but that dunk alone felt like it shifted the entire season’s narrative. It’s one of those plays that gets replayed on highlight reels year after year, and for good reason—it encapsulated the fearlessness that defined the era.

Another unforgettable moment was the finals MVP performance of Jeffrey Cariaso in the Commissioner’s Cup. Nicknamed "The Jet," he was lightning quick, and in Game 7 against San Miguel, he dropped 27 points, including four three-pointers. What stood out to me was his efficiency; he shot 60% from the field and didn’t seem to force anything. As someone who values smart basketball, I’ve always admired players like Cariaso who let the game come to them. That victory cemented Alaska’s dominance, and it’s no surprise they went on to win 48 games that season, a record at the time.

Then there was the heartbreak of Sunkist’s near-miss in the All-Filipino Cup. They pushed Alaska to the brink in the finals, losing in seven games, and I still feel a pang of sympathy for their players. In Game 7, they were up by 5 points with under two minutes left, but a series of turnovers cost them the title. I remember watching their coach, Yeng Guiao, on the sidelines—his frustration was palpable. It’s moments like these that remind me how thin the line between glory and defeat can be in sports. Personally, I think Sunkist deserved better, but that’s the beauty of competition; it doesn’t always go your way.

The rise of three-point shooting that season also caught my attention. Before the 1998 season, the league averaged around 5-6 threes per game, but that year, teams like Shell and Ginebra started launching more, with Shell hitting a then-record 14 threes in a single game against Pop Cola. As a stats nerd, I love tracking these trends, and it signaled a shift toward a more perimeter-oriented game. It’s funny—back then, I used to argue with friends that the three-pointer was overrated, but seeing how it opened up the floor changed my perspective.

Lastly, the retirement announcement of legends like Ramon Fernandez and Alvin Patrimonio marked the end of an era. Patrimonio’s final game, where he scored 18 points in a losing effort, was emotional. I was there, and the standing ovation lasted a good five minutes—it felt like the entire arena was saying thank you. As a fan, it’s these human moments that stick with you long after the stats fade. Reflecting on it all, the 1998 PBA season was a rollercoaster of emotions, and it’s why I keep coming back to basketball. It taught me that lowering expectations isn’t about doubting talent; it’s about staying open to the magic that unfolds on the court. And honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.