All Rise

Big Game
(Photo: Wikipedia)

You know how some names just ring differently? You hear it, and immediately you’re back to a time when the coliseum shook, when every possession mattered, when the lights seemed a little brighter. For Magnolia fans, for Purefoods lifers, for PBA diehards—it’s James Carlos Yap Sr. Or better yet: Big Game James.

Two-time MVP. Seven-time champion. Countless game-winners. Face of a franchise. Poster boy of a generation. James Yap isn’t just a player you cheered for; he was the player you bragged about. The guy who could pull up from deep with defenders hanging on him, and still swish it like he was shooting in the driveway.

And let’s not sugarcoat it—without James Yap, the Purefoods/Magnolia legacy wouldn’t be what it is today. From the “Big Three” days with PJ Simon and Marc Pingris, to those unforgettable mano-a-mano showdowns with Ginebra and Mark Caguioa, Yap carried a franchise on his shoulders. He wasn’t just Magnolia’s closer. He was the identity.

Now, years later, with Yap already transitioning into public service and his on-court days winding down, the PBA world has one simple, no-brainer task: retire his jersey.

Yes. That iconic No. 18 needs to be up there in the rafters of Magnolia, alongside the names and numbers of legends who came before. Because honestly, who else embodies the Purefoods/Magnolia brand more than James Yap? He’s the bridge between generations—the Patrick Ewing of New York, the Dirk of Dallas, the Kobe of the Lakers, Jaworski of Ginebra. Players come and go, but guys like James are forever etched in the fabric of a franchise.

It’s not about stats anymore (though he’s got plenty). It’s about the moments. The clutch threes in semis. The Finals MVP runs. The times you yelled “WOOOOOOO!” when he hit a dagger. The moments where an entire arena believed because James had the ball in his hands. Para sa fans, walang kasing tamis ‘yung mga panalo na pinasaya ni James.

Magnolia Hotshots, hear it from the fans: the time has come. Give the man his flowers. Give him his ceremony. Hang that No. 18 high and let future generations of Hotshots know—that once upon a time, a kid from Escalante City lit up the league and made millions of us fall in love with basketball all over again.

Big Game James isn’t just a nickname. It’s a legacy. And legacies deserve rafters.