By: JAR Rocina
The 1989 PBA Draft is forever remembered in league history for producing cornerstone talents like Benjie Paras and Nelson Asaytono—players who would go on to become stars in their era. Yet amid the promise of size, skill, and creativity, it was one man who exuded pure joy. Paul Alvarez didn’t just arrive—he exploded onto the scene.
A high-flying small forward from San Sebastian College-Recoletos, I saw Alvarez dominate the National Inter Collegiate Championships back in 1987 in Baguio City. With the likes of shooter Egay Macaraya and bull-strong Art de la Cruz, Alvarez was in his usual deadly self as they emerged as champions that year. Drafted by the Alaska Milkmen in 1989, a franchise that would quickly discover it had secured more than just a player—it had found a dynamic weapon. From his very first games, Alvarez played with a daring ambition, attacking the rim with reckless abandon and elevating above defenders with hang time moves. In a league famous for physical plays, he introduced a definite brand of artistry—turning fast breaks into slam dunk displays and backdoor steals into highlight reels.
But Alvarez’s career path was anything but smooth. An unexpected trade sent him to the Sta. Lucia Realtors in exchange for Bong Hawkins, and what followed was a time of instability that saw him change teams, searching for identity. His role minimized, his playing time reduced—but one thing never changes: his ability to rise above the rim, both literally and figuratively.
That ability to float in midair was no accident. Alvarez’s vertical leap became the stuff of PBA legend, a product of unorthodox yet continuous training. From strapping metal plates to his lower body to build explosive strength, to difficult uphill runs in the northern highlands, he transformed himself into a human spring—an athlete capable of taking coffee break in the air while jumping for a shot. It was this dedication that preserved not only his athleticism, but also the reputation that surrounded his game.
His redemption came with the San Miguel Beer men, where Alvarez rediscovered both his touch and playing form. No longer just an explosive scorer, he became an all-around player, a full-fledged crowd attraction. Each steal ignited ohs and ahs, each fast break promised flight, and each leap was unforgettable. PBA fans didn’t just watch Alvarez—they felt him.
Off the court, his journey has not been without problems, adding conflicting perspectives to his legacy. But within the painted area and above the hardwood, it is crystal clear: Alvarez was unforgettable. He represented a time when basketball was not only about winning, but about art, the art of flying.
Today, as a player past his prime, Alvarez continues to grace the game he loves, through appearances with fellow PBA greats, carrying with him memories of a golden period. For those who witnessed him at his peak, one truth remains undeniable—Paul Alvarez wasn’t just part of the show.
He was the show.
(Photo courtesy of Alchetron.com)