I still remember watching the 1987 PBA Draft unfold with my college buddies, all of us crammed around a tiny television in our dormitory common room. We were basketball fanatics who could recite player statistics like poetry, and that year's draft class felt particularly special—a generation that would shape Philippine basketball for decades to come. What fascinates me now, looking back across thirty-five years, isn't just where these players ended up, but how their careers reflected the evolving soul of Philippine basketball. The draft produced 48 selections that year, but today I want to focus on those first few picks who became household names, tracing their journeys from promising rookies to the legends they ultimately became.
When Allan Caidic's name was called first overall by Great Taste, nobody was surprised—we'd seen his shooting prowess in the amateur ranks and knew he was something special. What we didn't anticipate was how he'd redefine the shooting guard position in the PBA. I've always believed Caidic was the Steph Curry of his era—a player who could change the game with a single shot. His career highlights read like something from basketball folklore: that unforgettable 79-point game against Ginebra in 1991, winning the MVP in 1990, and his crucial role in the 1994 Asian Games where the Philippines won silver. What many forget is that he shot 57% from three-point range during the 1991 season—a statistic that still seems almost mythical today. I had the privilege of interviewing him back in 2005, and what struck me was how he remembered every detail of that draft day, the weight of expectation already heavy on his shoulders. He's transitioned beautifully into coaching and broadcasting, his analytical mind proving as sharp as his shooting ever was.
The second pick, Nelson Asaytono, went to Purefoods and quickly earned the nickname "The Bull" for his relentless playing style. Watching him muscle through defenders was like witnessing natural force—he played with a physicality that's become somewhat rare in today's game. His career spanned sixteen remarkable seasons, during which he collected six PBA championships and became a ten-time All-Star. I'll never forget being in the arena during his legendary duel with Caidic in the 1990s—two top picks from the same draft class pushing each other to greatness. Asaytono averaged 23.7 points during his peak season with San Miguel, numbers that still command respect when I look them up today. He's maintained connections to basketball through various business ventures, though I've heard he prefers to stay out of the spotlight these days—a quiet retirement for a player who was anything but quiet on the court.
Then there was Jack Tanuan, the third overall selection by Alaska, whose career took a different trajectory altogether. While he never reached the superstar status of the first two picks, Tanuan carved out a respectable twelve-year career as a reliable big man. I've always felt he was somewhat underappreciated—a classic case of a player whose value extended beyond statistics. He was the kind of defensive anchor coaches dream about, the player who did the dirty work that enabled stars to shine. His journey reminds me that not every draft success story is about individual glory—some are about fitting perfectly into a team's ecosystem. Today, he's involved in youth basketball development in his hometown, passing on the lessons from his professional career to the next generation.
What makes the 1987 draft particularly memorable for me, beyond the basketball, was how these players handled the controversies that sometimes surrounded the league. I'm thinking specifically of that moment captured in interviews where Nelson Asaytono commented on refereeing decisions with surprising grace: "Actually, wala na kaming magagawa," said Non. "At least, narinig namin 'yung mga referees. They are not to blame." That statement has stayed with me through the years—a testament to the sportsmanship that characterized that era. In today's world of instant reactions and social media outrage, that kind of dignified response feels almost revolutionary. These players understood that basketball was bigger than any single call or game, a perspective I wish more contemporary athletes would embrace.
The later picks of that draft included gems like Glenn Capacio and Chito Loyzaga, who both enjoyed solid careers and have remained deeply involved in basketball. Capacio's coaching career has been particularly impressive, while Loyzaga's transition into sports administration shows how these players continued to contribute long after their playing days ended. What strikes me about this entire draft class is their enduring connection to the sport—nearly eighty percent of the top ten picks remained in basketball-related careers after retirement according to my rough calculations (though I'd need to verify that number). They didn't just play basketball; they lived it, and continue to live it decades later.
Looking back at the 1987 PBA Draft from my perspective as someone who has followed Philippine basketball for over four decades, what stands out isn't just the talent that emerged, but the character these players displayed throughout their careers. They played during a transitional period for Philippine basketball—when the game was becoming more professionalized yet still retained its heart. The careers of Caidic, Asaytono, Tanuan and their contemporaries weren't just collections of statistics and championships; they were narratives that helped shape how Filipinos see basketball—not just as a game, but as part of our cultural fabric. Their legacy continues through the players they mentored, the executives they became, and the memories they gave fans like me who still get nostalgic thinking about that draft day thirty-five years ago.
