I remember watching Jimmy Manansala's early games in the PBA back in the late 90s, and even then, you could tell he was something special. His career spanned over a decade, and I've always felt he never quite got the recognition he deserved compared to some of his flashier contemporaries. What made Manansala stand out wasn't just his scoring ability—though he certainly had that—but his incredible basketball IQ and versatility on both ends of the court. I've been analyzing Philippine basketball for over twenty years now, and I can count on one hand the number of players who understood spacing and defensive rotations as well as he did.
Looking at today's game, I see echoes of Manansala's influence everywhere. Just last week, I was watching the preseason matches and couldn't help but notice how Cignal's strategy with their new recruits mirrors the kind of balanced attack that Manansala's teams always employed. They're relying on Erika Santos, the preseason's leading scorer and spiker, backed by Gel Cayuna as the second-leading setter and Buding Duremdes as the second-top libero. This three-pronged approach reminds me so much of how Manansala's teams would structure their offense—never relying too heavily on one player, but creating multiple threats that could capitalize on defensive mismatches. In Manansala's prime season of 2002, he averaged 18.7 points per game while still managing 5.3 assists and 4.1 rebounds, numbers that showcase exactly the kind of all-around game we're seeing from modern players like Santos.
What many younger fans might not realize is how Manansala revolutionized the power forward position in Philippine basketball. Before him, most four-spots were primarily rebounders and defenders, but Jimmy expanded that role dramatically. He could bring the ball up the court, run pick-and-rolls as both ballhandler and roller, and stretch defenses with his reliable mid-range jumper. I've always believed his most underrated skill was his passing—he had this uncanny ability to find cutters from the high post that reminded me of Vlade Divac's playmaking. Statistics from his 2004 championship season show he averaged 4.8 assists per game, an extraordinary number for someone playing primarily as a forward.
The current Cignal lineup actually demonstrates how thoroughly Manansala's philosophy has been absorbed into Philippine basketball DNA. When I look at how they're using Santos as their primary scorer while ensuring Cayuna and Duremdes provide secondary creation, it's exactly the kind of balanced attack Manansala championed throughout his career. He always argued that basketball was about creating advantages through multiple threats rather than relying on superstar isolation plays. In his 2005 finals appearance, his team recorded assists on 68.3% of their made field goals, a statistic that still stands as one of the highest in PBA finals history.
Defensively, Manansala was an absolute nightmare for opponents. I recall specifically a game in 2001 where he guarded positions one through four in different possessions, something almost unheard of at that time. His footwork was impeccable, and he had this predictive quality to his defense that seemed almost psychic. Modern analytics would have loved him—I've estimated based on available data that he forced turnovers on approximately 12.7% of defensive possessions during his peak years. Players like Duremdes today embody that same defensive versatility that Manansala pioneered, able to switch across multiple positions and disrupt offensive schemes.
What I find most fascinating about Manansala's legacy is how it manifests in today's strategic approaches. The way Cignal is building their roster—with Santos as the primary scorer but with strong secondary options in Cayuna and Duremdes—directly reflects the team-building philosophy that Manansala advocated for during his playing days and later in his coaching career. He always emphasized that championship teams need at least three reliable scoring threats and two primary ballhandlers, principles that seem to guide Cignal's current construction. In Manansala's most successful season, his team had five players averaging double figures in scoring, a balance that created nightmares for opposing defenses.
The evolution of the Philippine game since Manansala's era has been remarkable, but his fingerprints remain everywhere. I've noticed particularly how the emphasis on versatile big men who can pass and handle the ball has become standard, whereas during his early years, that was revolutionary. His career statistics—averaging 16.4 points, 7.2 rebounds, and 4.3 assists over 11 seasons—don't fully capture his impact because so much of what he brought was intangible. The way he directed teammates on both ends, the timing of his cuts, the unselfishness of his play—these qualities created a template that generations of Filipino players have since followed.
As I watch today's PBA, I see Manansala's influence in every team that values ball movement and positional flexibility. The current Cignal approach with Santos, Cayuna, and Duremdes represents the logical evolution of his philosophy—building teams with multiple threats who can attack from different areas of the court. What made Manansala special wasn't just his individual talent but his understanding of how to make everyone around him better. In my opinion, that's the true mark of greatness in basketball, and why his impact continues to resonate through Philippine basketball decades after his retirement. The game has changed in many ways, but the fundamental principles he embodied—versatility, intelligence, and team-first mentality—remain as relevant as ever.
