For the past two seasons, we’ve been fortunate to witness La Salle basketball at its finest. The exhilarating victory to claim the UAAP basketball crown against UP, surrounded by a sea of green chanting the rain chant in unison, each stanza ending with ANIMO LA SALLE! Singing the DLSU Alma Mater song with clenched fists amid raining confetti and watching the Green Archers in tears as they broke a long-standing title drought.
Each winning season gives an adrenaline boost, and every loss brings hard-learned lessons, both on and off the court. We drowned our sorrows from losses to UAAP rivals in streams of San Miguel, vowing, “We’ll do better,” both as fans and as individuals.
There’s no feeling quite like it.
La Salle wasn’t always like this, though. Half a century ago, we entered South Gate at the tail-end of the “league-less” generation. After an embarrassing brawl between DLSU and Letran, the administration had had enough, pulling La Salle out of the NCAA and letting things cool down.
It was a different La Salle. Soulless.
Our sporting highlights were La Salle-hosted invitationals and participation in second-tier leagues like the Metro Manila Basketball League (MMBL) and a few regional tournaments. On occasion, we’d get a game in the St. Athanasius Gym (before it became the Razon Gym), the highlight being Green Archer Al Azurin giving Atenean Chot Reyes a bloody lip after a scuffle in the final seconds of a College Week game.
We’d occasionally catch glimpses of future basketball stars like a high school-aged Benjie Paras, who already played for San Beda’s senior team, and a drowsy-looking Paul Alvarez of San Sebastian.
We didn’t cheer at these games—not because we didn’t care, but because we didn’t know how. We were like modern PBA fans, clapping whenever the ball went in. There was no season-long tournament that captivated us, distracted us, or even amused us for the year.
No pep rallies. Just nothing.
The peak of La Salle basketball back then was our unbelievable double-overtime win against Ateneo in the MMBL at their homecourt, the Loyola Gymnasium (now Blue Eagle Gym). La Salle was down by eight with three minutes left, and the Archers rallied to win in overtime.
Even in just the MMBL, the game broke the headlines in major sports dailies, showing how thirsty the Pinoys are for the biggest rivalry in Philippine sports to be rekindled.
For the first time, we experienced the thrill of victory, and the small crowd of green—mostly player relatives and friends—sang the DLSU Alma Mater song, even though most of us didn’t know the words.
We saw how it felt to be part of the UAAP, slugging it out with our archrival, and contrast that to our soulless state.
In 1985, our curiosity piqued. La Salle issued statements expressing interest in following Ateneo into the then-not-so-popular UAAP.
At the time, the UAAP wasn’t the national juggernaut as it is today. The NCAA was still considered the premier league, given its member schools. UAAP schools didn’t even sing alma mater songs, except Ateneo, and UST was still known as the Glowing Goldies. UP had only one cheer, and FEU rock and roll band would play all game long. Regular season games only drew small crowds and were played in Rizal Coliseum, a non-airconditioned venue with a max capacity of 5,000.
But the UAAP was still a step up from second-tier leagues, and with UP, Ateneo, and UST in the mix, it offered a solid foundation for building a brand. Mix that with the reunification of the biggest rivals in Philippine sports, it was a clear blockbuster in the making.
The primary insights—more mess under the hood
During our early interviews with La Salle insiders, it was widely believed—and published—that Ateneo and UST were the primary opponents of La Salle’s entry. Ateneo supposedly didn’t want a replay of the NCAA rivalry, while UST wasn’t interested in sharing the limelight.
However, a surprising insight came from our rounds of interviews with other UAAP schools. The late Father Raymond Holscher, SJ, then Ateneo’s athletic director and UAAP board representative, told a jarring different story. Contrary to popular belief, Ateneo wasn’t against La Salle’s entry—but Father Holscher criticized what he saw as a half-hearted attempt by La Salle.
“I’m not sure La Salle really wanted to join the UAAP,” Father Holscher shared.
We had missed the application deadline, submitted incomplete documents, and showed an indifferent attitude.
FEU’s representative at the time, Dr. Nicanor Reyes, backed this up: “How can you say the UAAP didn’t want La Salle when we even changed the rules from requiring unanimous voting to a simple majority to make sure they’d get approved?” This rule change, made between 1983 and 1984, essentially cleared the way for DLSU’s entry.
Eventually, due to constant pressure from alumni and students, the La Salle administration gave in and submitted the necessary paperwork.
And we GOT IN. WE FINALLY GOT IN.
The DLSU administration held multisectoral meetings to ensure we wouldn’t mess it up this time and to keep everyone on track.
In the first two seasons, we only won four games each year—two against Adamson and two over winless NU—after the UAAP denied La Salle’s attempt to include half the national team roster in the Green Archers lineup.
Back then, the fans were like UAAP newbies trying to find their footing. The only cheer we knew was the “D-L-S-U Derecho La Salle” cheer, along with a few others.
But proud La Sallians would not allow a championship-caliber program to stay down for long.
La Salle eventually constructed a powerhouse team with National Youth standouts like Jun Limpot, a 6’6″ center with polished footwork, Johnedel Cardel, a high-flying wing with a consistent jumper and excellent shot creator, and a roster of talented playmakers.
Our first taste of championship fever came in 1988, when the Dindo Pumaren Archers faced Ateneo in the UAAP Finals. Despite a heart-wrenching loss, where fans wept in the stands and stared at the scoreboard until the Rizal Coliseum staff turned it off, it was the first time La Sallians sang the Alma Mater with pride, emotion, and tears.
We vowed, “We will be back!”
And we did. La Salle claimed its first UAAP championship in 1989, defeating a stacked FEU Tamaraws team, and the celebration stretched from Vito Cruz to the Taft campus. With hometown heroes like Joey Sta Maria, Gee Abanilla, Teddy Monasterio, and Jun Limpot, it was the start of La Salle’s UAAP journey.
The rise of the Animo
ANIMO, a word have used for ages and now own, is embedded in the hearts of every La Sallian.
From Dino Aldeguer’s miracle triple to slay the UST ghost, to Renren Ritualo’s four-peat, to Joseph Yeo and JV Casio’s era, to Jeron Teng and Ben Mbala’s dunk-filled reign, and now the Kevin Quiambao dominance, the UAAP has given us more than we could have imagined.
From just basketball, we now root for the Lady Spikers and our other teams. From the track team to the chess squad, we celebrate every win as part of a big green and white world.
It’s given us teams to cheer for, a way to balance the stress of academics, and a world where we can unite as one La Salle, supporting the green and white.
So, to all past, present, and future La Sallians: enjoy the UAAP.
Love it.
And most importantly, PROTECT IT.
ANIMO LA SALLE!
EDITOR’S NOTE:
This is an unedited submission from a former section editor of The LaSallian, reflecting on a pivotal story from their tenure. The article examines the impact of that narrative on campus culture and student life, highlighting the publication’s role in shaping community discourse.
Neal Tieng served as the Sports Editor for The LaSallian in 1988, having been a dedicated member of the publication since his freshman year in 1984. He graduated in 1989 with degrees in AB Psychology and BSC Management of Financial Institutions. After graduation, Neal pursued his passion for writing, contributing articles to major publications such as Headline Manila and The Manila Standard.
Currently, he is the National Sales and Marketing Head for a consumer hardware importer, drawing on extensive experience from previous roles at esteemed companies including 3M Philippines, Citibank, and Bosch.
In addition to his full-time position, Neal lectures part-time at the University of Santo Tomas College of Fine Arts and Design, teaching advertising and marketing courses, as well as at the College of Saint Benilde – Antipolo. He remains actively engaged in writing and photography for our alumni site, Rektikano.net.
