Having spent over two decades analyzing Philippine basketball, I've come to realize that debating the PBA's greatest three-point shooter isn't just about statistics—it's about understanding moments that defined generations. The hard part was putting together that championship bout between eras, between different styles of shooting, between players who transformed how we perceive perimeter scoring. When I first started tracking three-point percentages back in the late 90s, the conversation was simpler—we had reliable volume shooters like Allan Caidic who could drop 30 points with that beautiful high-arcing shot of his. But today's game demands we consider so much more than just makes and misses.
I remember sitting courtside during Game 4 of the 2013 Governors' Cup Finals, watching James Yap drain three consecutive triples against Alaska. The arena erupted each time, but what struck me was how different his shooting form looked compared to the legends I'd studied. Yap's release was quicker, his feet set differently, yet equally effective. That's when it hit me—we're not just comparing players, we're comparing basketball eras with completely different defensive schemes and three-point philosophies. The hard part was putting together that championship bout between old-school pure shooters and modern volume scorers who shoot off movement.
Let's talk numbers, because they tell part of the story. Allan Caidic's legendary 17 three-pointers in a single game back in 1991 stands as perhaps the most unbreakable record in Asian basketball. His career percentage? Around 38% during his prime years, which sounds modest until you consider he was taking those shots with defenders literally in his face—no fancy screen actions, no defensive three-second rules to create space. Compare that to Marcio Lassiter's consistent 40%+ shooting over the past six seasons, or the explosive scoring bursts we've seen from Matthew Wright who once made 8 triples in a single half during the 2019 Commissioner's Cup. The statistics create compelling arguments, but they never tell the whole truth.
What fascinates me most is how the very definition of a "great three-point shooter" has evolved. Back in my early days covering the league, we valued consistency above all—players like Dondon Hontiveros who could reliably hit 2-3 triples per game at around 36% clip. Today, we've shifted toward valuing high-volume shooting even at slightly lower percentages, because the math favors quantity. I've had heated debates with fellow analysts about whether Caidic's precision trumps Lassiter's volume—personally, I believe context matters more than raw numbers. Caidic was shooting when the three-pointer was still considered somewhat gimmicky, while today's shooters benefit from systems designed specifically to generate open looks from deep.
The championship DNA aspect cannot be overlooked. I've always maintained that the truest test of a shooter's greatness isn't their percentage during elimination rounds, but their nerve in championship moments. Remember Jimmy Alapag during the 2014 Commissioner's Cup Finals? His Game 6 performance where he hit 5 three-pointers against Rain or Shine wasn't just statistically impressive—it broke the opponent's spirit. That's what separates good shooters from legendary ones. The hard part was putting together that championship bout between statistical excellence and clutch performance, and in my book, players who deliver when trophies are on the line deserve extra consideration.
What many modern analysts miss when comparing eras is the physicality difference. I've watched shooters from the 90s get hammered on close-outs with no foul calls, while today's players enjoy more protection. This isn't to diminish current shooters' achievements, but to highlight how the game has changed. My personal preference will always lean toward shooters who created their own shots rather than those who benefited from systematic plays. That's why despite Lassiter's incredible consistency, I'd take a prime James Yap in a must-win game—his ability to manufacture difficult threes off the dribble was something special.
The evolution of shooting technique itself tells a fascinating story. When I interview young players today, they talk about "optimal arc" and "shot pockets"—concepts that simply didn't exist in the PBA lexicon twenty years ago. We've gone from shooters who relied on pure instinct to technicians who analyze every aspect of their form. This professionalization has undoubtedly improved shooting percentages across the board, but I sometimes wonder if we've lost some of the artistry along the way. There was something beautifully unpolished about watching Ronnie Magsanoc release that quirky-looking shot that somehow always found the bottom of the net.
After all these years of charting shots and analyzing forms, I've come to believe that the "best" three-point shooter discussion ultimately comes down to impact rather than statistics. Who changed games? Who forced defensive adjustments? Who left a permanent mark on how the three-pointer is viewed in Philippine basketball? For me, that player remains Allan Caidic—not just for his records, but for demonstrating that the three-pointer could be a primary weapon rather than a complementary tool. The hard part was putting together that championship bout between different eras and styles, but when I close my eyes and imagine one three-pointer to win it all, I still see that familiar high-arching shot from the corner, the one that defined an entire generation of shooters.
