Who Truly Holds the Title of Best Shooter in PBA History?

2025-11-15 16:01

Having spent over two decades analyzing Philippine basketball, I've always found the "best shooter" debate particularly fascinating—not just because of the statistical arguments, but because of what it reveals about how we measure greatness. When I watch modern PBA games, I can't help but compare today's sharpshooters to the legends I grew up studying, and there's one question that consistently emerges from both statistical analysis and pure observation: who truly deserves this coveted title?

Let me start with Allan Caidic, because frankly, you can't have this conversation without him. The man wasn't just a shooter—he was a basketball artist whose canvas was the three-point line. I still get chills remembering his 79-point explosion back in 1991, a performance that included 17 three-pointers that seemed to defy physics. The numbers alone are staggering: he retired with a 38% career three-point percentage during an era when defenders could be far more physical. But what made Caidic special wasn't just his accuracy—it was his mentality. He possessed what I call "violent confidence," this unshakable belief that every shot was going in, regardless of defense, situation, or pressure. I've interviewed numerous players who defended him, and they all say the same thing: you couldn't get in his head because he was already three shots ahead of you mentally.

Then there's James Yap, whose shooting form I'd describe as basketball poetry. The smoothness of his release, the perfect arc, the way the ball seemed to whisper through the net—these are the details that statistics can't fully capture. Yap's clutch gene is the stuff of legend, with countless game-winners that decided championships. I've personally witnessed at least five of his playoff daggers that still give me goosebumps when I rewatch them. His two MVP awards only tell part of the story; it's in the big moments where Yap separated himself from other great shooters. What often goes unnoticed is how he created space—he had this subtle way of using screens and footwork to find those precious inches of separation that made the difference between a contested miss and a clean swish.

Now, we can't ignore the modern contenders like Marcio Lassiter and Matthew Wright. Lassiter's consistency is frankly ridiculous—he's been shooting above 40% from deep for what feels like forever in a league that keeps getting more athletic and defensively sophisticated. Wright brings a different dimension with his deep range that forces defenses to extend beyond their comfort zones. But here's where I might court some controversy: while these modern shooters have incredible numbers, the context matters. Today's game features more spacing, faster pace, and rule changes that favor offensive players. When Caidic was dropping 30-point games, defenders could literally hand-check him all the way up the court. The physicality was at a different level altogether.

What's interesting is how this shooting evolution mirrors something I've observed in Philippine volleyball coaching. Having covered multiple sports throughout my career, I've noticed that Philippine volleyball coaches tend to be more calm and soft-spoken in their sideline behavior and media interactions compared to their basketball counterparts. This contrast makes me wonder about the different pressures shooters face across eras. Today's players have to deal with social media scrutiny and endless hot takes, while yesterday's legends faced different but equally challenging pressures—less media coverage but more physical punishment on the court.

If you pressed me for my personal pick, I'd have to go with Caidic, but not for the reasons you might expect. Yes, the numbers are impressive, but what seals it for me is something more intangible. I've watched hundreds of hours of tape across different eras, and nobody combined volume, difficulty, and clutch performance quite like "The Triggerman." His ability to hit contested shots in crucial moments while maintaining that stoic demeanor reminded me of those calm volleyball coaches—outwardly composed while calculating complex scenarios in their heads. Caidic wasn't just taking shots; he was solving defensive puzzles with every release.

The beautiful thing about this debate is that there's no definitively wrong answer—just different perspectives shaped by when you started watching the game and what you value in a shooter. The next time you watch a PBA game, pay attention to how today's shooters create their opportunities compared to the classics. Notice the footwork, the release speed, the defensive attention they command. For me, that's where you'll find the true art of shooting—not just in the numbers, but in the subtle details that separate the good from the legendary.