‘Merry Christmas, bro’—A streetballer’s final fast break

Edward Ballesteros. Photo courtesy of Jan Ballesteros.

MANILA, Philippines—Blinking lights illuminated a man’s face and beeping  sounds broke the silence of an otherwise quiet room.

Just after the break of noon, Jan Ballesteros arrived, panting. He stared at his family as they surrounded a metal-framed bed. In it, Edward, his brother, was attempting a final fast break.

A brotherhood of basketball lovers, Jan, Edward, their oldest Jay and their second-youngest Renz all grew up in Airmen’s Village in Las Piñas. It was a sorrowful reunion at the hospital.

From a distance, Jan, the youngest of the brothers, saw youngest sister Marianne with her arms around their father Eduardo; beside them, their mother Cyrill was praying for Edward to come away victorious.

But the skillful streetballer was losing the battle. Edward had been suffering from liver cancer for more than a year, the result of years of smoking and drinking.

From a lean streetball machine that struck fear among outsiders and challengers, Edward was a mere remnant of himself as he lay in his hospital bed at the Las Piñas Doctor’s Hospital, frail and with a bulging stomach that left him in agony.

Another beep. Another blink.

Everything looked bleak as the man with the scythe got ever closer. This was a break Edward could not hope to complete, unlike in his glory days.

Jan, still outside of the circle, could not manage to get close to his sick brother. Jay, a hulking tattooed man close to six feet tall, looked at Edward with fear and anger.  He could not save his diminutive brother this time. This wasn’t a basketball game against mortals he could easily fend off as Edward drove to the lane. Edward was facing a monster no mortal could defeat.

Beep.

A pitiful huddle: Edward’s parents hoping for the best, Renz clutching his brother’s bed, Jay looking on closer, Jan scared thinking that soon all would be lost.

Another beep, with a blink following shortly after.

Cyrill cried, a moving Pieta. Eduardo looked at his son and his other children, powerless.

Jan, tears running down his face, looked at his older brother, this time not in awe but in despair.

A beep, this time a long one.

Everyone is stunned; the man with the scythe had caught up with Edward. “Merry Christmas bro,” Jan said.

It was over.

Edward left his family on Christmas Eve in 2013.  He was 33 years old; he died 12 days after his birthday.

* * *

One year on, Jan remembers his brother, the sadness and the pain.

One year on, he now looks at the experience in a different light.

“Masakit mawalan ng mahal sa buhay sa araw mismo ng Kapaskuhan. Yung araw na nabuhay si Kristo, namatay naman yung kuya ko (It hurts to lose a loved one on Christmas day. On the day that Christ was born, my older brother passed away),” Jan said. “Christmas Day will be remembered for two contrasting things, at least for us.”

“Bubuhos ang pagkain at regalo sa Pasko, pati na rin ang luha (The food and the gifts will pour during Christmas, and the tears too). But in the words of one of my favorite professors, ‘His best Yuletide gift is that he’s already up there, with today’s Celebrant.’”