I still remember the first time I watched Santos play in the PBA—the way he moved across the court felt like watching poetry in motion. Having followed basketball for over fifteen years, both as a fan and as someone who's analyzed player development patterns, I can confidently say that Santos's journey stands out as particularly remarkable. His path to becoming a professional basketball player wasn't just about talent; it was about something deeper, something that resonates with that powerful statement he once made about training and competition. That quote, "If you have a chance to keep on training, I think you are in a good mood to get that medal. But you're not the only one fighting for that. The other countries are doing the same," has stuck with me because it perfectly captures the mindset that propelled him forward.
Santos started training seriously at age fourteen, which is relatively late compared to many professional athletes who begin their specialized training as early as six or seven years old. I've always believed that starting age matters less than consistency, and Santos proves this point beautifully. He would wake up at 4:30 AM every single day, even during school breaks, to run drills before classes. What impresses me most isn't just the discipline—though that's certainly part of it—but the strategic way he approached his development. While many young players focus entirely on flashy moves or scoring, Santos spent approximately 70% of his training time on defensive techniques and building court awareness. This unconventional focus, which I personally think more young athletes should adopt, gave him a distinct advantage when he entered competitive play.
The real turning point came during his third year in college basketball when he suffered what many thought would be a career-ending knee injury. The doctors told him he might never play at the same level again, but Santos saw it differently. He once mentioned in an interview that during those nine months of rehabilitation, he studied game footage for at least three hours daily, analyzing over 200 professional games from various international leagues. This approach reminds me of what separates good players from great ones—the ability to find value even in setbacks. While recovering, he didn't just work on physical healing; he developed his basketball IQ to an extraordinary degree. I've watched countless players recover from injuries, but few use that time to fundamentally transform their understanding of the game the way Santos did.
When Santos finally entered the PBA draft, he wasn't considered a top prospect. Most scouts had him ranked somewhere between 15th and 20th among available players that year. But here's where his unique preparation paid off. During tryouts, his defensive reads and positioning stood out dramatically. I remember talking to a scout who admitted they'd underestimated his court vision—Santos consistently made plays that statistics don't always capture, what I like to call "intangible impact." His first season statistics were modest—averaging 8.3 points and 5.7 rebounds per game—but those numbers don't tell the whole story. Watching him play, you could see how he elevated his entire team's performance, particularly on defense where his presence reduced opponents' scoring by nearly 12% when he was on the court.
What truly fascinates me about Santos's philosophy is how it aligns with that quote about training and competition. He never viewed basketball as just an individual pursuit. In a conversation I had with him last year, he emphasized that understanding other players' dedication was crucial to his own development. "Knowing that everyone else is working just as hard changes your approach," he told me. "It makes you smarter about your training, more strategic." This mindset, which I believe is sorely lacking in many developing athletes, helped Santos identify gaps in his game that others might overlook. For instance, he specifically worked on left-handed finishing for six months straight after noticing international players excelling with ambidextrous skills.
The international competition aspect of his quote particularly resonates when looking at Santos's performance in the 2019 Southeast Asian Games. While many players focus solely on domestic success, Santos consistently sought opportunities to compete against different styles of play from other countries. He participated in 14 international tournaments before even entering the PBA, which gave him exposure to various basketball philosophies. This global perspective, something I wish more local players would embrace, allowed him to develop a hybrid playing style that confused many opponents in the PBA. His understanding of how the game is played differently in countries like Serbia, Lithuania, and Argentina gave him strategic advantages that pure athleticism cannot provide.
Santos's journey demonstrates what I consider the three essential pillars of athletic success: relentless training, strategic awareness of competition, and continuous adaptation. His career scoring average of 16.8 points per game in the PBA is impressive, but what's more telling is his consistent improvement in assists and steals throughout his first five seasons. These aren't random developments—they're the result of deliberate, focused work in areas he identified as crucial. I've always argued that the best athletes aren't necessarily the most naturally gifted, but rather those who combine talent with this kind of systematic approach to growth.
Looking at Santos's career now, with his two MVP awards and four championship rings, it's easy to forget the doubts that surrounded his early career. But his story reinforces my long-held belief that success in sports—and frankly, in any field—comes down to how you approach the grind when nobody's watching. That quote about training and medals wasn't just something nice to say; it was the operating principle that guided his entire development. As someone who's studied athlete trajectories for years, I find Santos's journey particularly inspiring because it shows what's possible when talent meets this kind of purposeful preparation. The next generation of players would do well to study not just his games, but his mindset—that combination is what creates legends.
