How the Pilipinas Aguilas Hammered Their Way to History

Photo Source: WMPBL

There’s a myth in sports that greatness arrives fully formed. A team clicks. A play works. The trophy shines. But the truth is far less cinematic, far more human. Sometimes, it starts on a cement court behind a coach’s house. Sometimes, it begins with a dream that’s been turned down more times than it’s been welcomed. And sometimes, it takes nothing short of magic — the slow, stubborn kind that grows in early mornings, group chats, ice baths, and old wounds held together by faith.

For the Pilipinas Aguilas, it started with a vision. A quiet, stubborn, unapologetic vision.

Luis de la Paz: The Reluctant MVP

Luis de la Paz doesn’t have a highlight reel. He doesn’t call plays or hit game-winners. What he does have is a stubborn belief in the Filipino athlete. “I’ve always felt that the term ‘world-class’ also applied to us,” he says, “but we just need the right support.” A lawyer by profession, a dad to two “very very demanding kids,” and someone who juggled meetings and rejections while holding the team’s foundation together, Luis never planned to be at the center of this story. But here he is, grinning through the grind, calling himself lucky. “It wasn’t easy,” he admits. “Kapal nalang ng mukha asking people for meetings, support, anything.” This isn’t his first Aguilas team. It’s actually the fourth. But it’s the first women’s team. And it’s the first champion.

When people call him the MVP of the Aguilas, he blushes it off. “They are where they are because of themselves,” he says, almost insisting. “We are a team. Everyone plays a role.” But the truth shines through the cracks — it was his belief, quiet and persistent, that kept this thing alive when no one else could see it. There were moments he nearly gave up. “I felt that all my contributions to sports didn’t make any positive impact,” he confesses. “But this team gave me hope.” And the championship? Sweet, yes — but secondary. “The real legacy,” Luis says, “is inspiring others. Making a lasting impact.”

Eric Altamirano: The Mind Behind the Mentality

There are coaches who teach plays, and there are coaches who change perspective. Eric Altamirano is the latter. He came into the Aguilas fold with decades of experience behind him, but it was a 3×3 stint with the Gilas women’s team that opened his eyes to what this could be. “The potential, the passion — it was real,” he says. It was his son, Anton, who nudged him to try coaching a women’s 5×5 team. “We’re always in sync,” he says of Anton. “We watch film, relive plays, replay moments in our heads. It’s like we’re still there, on the sidelines.”

What he saw in the Aguilas reminded him of the best teams he’d coached. Not just in talent, but in mentality. They believed in defense. They believed in each other. And they had something even rarer: chemistry. “You can’t fake that,” he says. “Trina and Chack were incredible leaders. Trina even organized team-building activities. That kind of culture — that’s what wins championships.” He watched the team come together, nearly fall apart, and pull tighter still. And when it was time, he reminded them: “Make your own story. This is your legacy.”

It was.

Paolo Layug: The Coach Who Rebounded His Way to Trust

If coaching were a fairytale, Paolo Layug would be the quiet hero in the corner — watching film while the world slept, preparing not just for today’s game, but the ones no one knew were coming. “That semis stretch,” he recalls, “I was game-planning for Discovery, but also preparing for the Finals — both UST and Galeries. I watched four to five games of each. I just wanted to be ready.” He wasn’t guessing. He was preparing for the 101st blow on the stone.

The moment it cracked? A play against FEU. “All five players touched the ball, barely any dribbles. It just flowed. That’s when I knew something had clicked.” But he knew the truth — it wasn’t just that play. It was the months before it. The sweat equity. The rebound sessions. The late-night breakdowns. The moment wasn’t magic. It was earned.

When Trina went down with a head hit — the same head that’s been through injury before — Paolo felt it. When Chack played through a shoulder that wouldn’t lift, he knew what it cost. “Those were the hardest conversations,” he says. “Asking them if they could keep going, knowing they’d say yes even if it hurt.” He admired them for it. For showing up, for pushing through, for trusting him.

When the championship finally came, it wasn’t a cheer — it was an exhale. “It felt like a startup that made it,” he says. “There was no manual. But we figured it out. And seeing their faces — the joy — that made every sacrifice worth it.”

Legacy in Motion

So here they are. Not just champions, but authors of a new story. A team built on late-night scouting, hard conversations, awkward pitches, injury timeouts, and a shared refusal to quit. A team that came together weeks before the season and somehow became history.

Coach Eric called it a milestone. Luis called it hope. Paolo called it a startup. Maybe it’s all of that. Or maybe it’s something even simpler — a team of stonecutters, hammering away, blow after blow, until the rock finally split.

And when it did, it didn’t feel like the start of something. It felt like something that had always been there — waiting to be uncovered.