Everybody wishes they played like Harold Alarcon. (You might be lying if you say you don’t.)

Slick fall-away jumpers. Spinning at full speed and laying it in like it’s easy work. Handles so in control, it’s hard to believe he’s not a point guard. And that killer instinct — knowing exactly when it’s his time to eat, his possession to put defenders to bed, his moment to call his own number. Who wouldn’t want to have all of those tools in their bag?

Too many times, teams have fallen victim to the pretty-boy assassin of Diliman. Too many times, they’ve given him that hard drive to the right, bit on the spin, and lost space on his pull-up jumper. And too many times, Harold’s made them pay the price for it.

Against the UST Growling Tigers, he treaded the court like a hunter stalking prey. Waiting for his time to strike. He was patient. He stood in the corner motionless, watching his teammates get theirs until his window to operate opened up. He knocked down shots here and there to keep the UP Fighting Maroons close; keep them in the hunt. He celebrated when his teammates hit baskets, and when it was his turn, he dropped eight big baskets in the fourth quarter. He had 14 through the first three.

His final blow? The most lethal one: an already-patented pull-up jumper.

The scene went like this:

Harold receives the ball at the top of the key. Eyes lock on the rim. Mark Llemit is the unfortunate casualty. Harold uses the Francis Nnoruka screen to shake him, but Llemit fights through. Harold pulls back to size him up. And now the scene gets gory. He crosses right, then left. Llemit stays with him, thinking he’s got him. But Harold takes one hard dribble, spins back to the right, and suddenly Llemit’s seeing stars. His eyes are on Harold, but Harold’s eyes are back on the rim. He pulls up, hangs in the air for a century, then fades away as the ball familiarizes itself with every inch of the rim before dropping in. Llemit’s in disbelief, the crowd’s in awe, and Harold jogs back to the bench as UST calls timeout. UP takes one final trip on the defensive end and the game is sealed. The Maroons win by one. Harold lets out a scream of relief, and the crowd echoes it. 

No better play could have been drawn. No player was better equipped to finish the job.

So, yeah. Lie to yourself again and tell me you don’t want to play like Harold Alarcon.