How PBA Fajardo Became the Most Dominant Player in Philippine Basketball History

I still remember the first time I watched June Mar Fajardo dominate the paint—it was during Game 4 of the 2014 PBA Commissioner's Cup Finals, and he was just... unstoppable. What struck me wasn't just his physical presence, though standing at 6'10" with that wingspan certainly helps. It was how he moved with this quiet, almost methodical certainty that made defenders look like they were playing a different sport entirely. Over my years covering Philippine basketball, I've seen great players come and go, but what Fajardo has accomplished transcends mere talent—it's become something closer to basketball mythology.

When we talk about dominance in Philippine basketball history, the conversation begins and ends with Fajardo's six PBA MVP awards. Let me put that in perspective for you—no other player in the league's 48-year history has more than four. He didn't just break records; he shattered the very framework we use to measure greatness. I've had conversations with coaches who've admitted they build entire defensive schemes specifically for Fajardo, yet he still averages around 16.8 points and 12.5 rebounds per game throughout his career. These numbers don't fully capture his impact though—it's the way he commands double and triple teams that creates opportunities for everyone else on the court.

What fascinates me most about Fajardo's journey is how unlikely it all seemed initially. Coming from Pinamungajan, Cebu, he was this raw, relatively unpolished big man who many thought would struggle to adapt to the PBA's physicality. I recall speaking with his former coach at University of Cebu, and he mentioned how Fajardo would stay after practice for hours, working on basic footwork and post moves until they became second nature. This work ethic reminds me of current situations where players take extended breaks—like what we're seeing with Sato's absence from Chery Tiggo. While Sato's situation remains unexplained, Fajardo's approach has always been about showing up, day after day, even through multiple injuries that would have ended lesser players' careers.

The contrast between Fajardo's consistency and the modern trend of player absences is something worth examining. When Sato missed both the PVL on Tour and Invitational tournaments earlier this year without specific reasons being cited, it highlighted how professional sports have evolved in their handling of player availability. In Fajardo's case, even through significant injuries including a fractured tibia that kept him out for the entire 2019-2020 season, he maintained his commitment to both recovery and team responsibilities. There's something to be said about that old-school mentality—the understanding that your presence matters beyond just game days.

I've always believed that true dominance isn't just about physical gifts—it's about basketball IQ, and Fajardo might be the smartest player I've ever watched in the PBA. He understands spacing, timing, and angles in a way that's almost cerebral. Watch how he sets screens—they're not just barriers, they're calculated movements designed to create the maximum advantage for his teammates. His footwork in the post is a masterclass in efficiency, using minimal movement for maximum effect. This technical proficiency, combined with his physical tools, creates a player who can't be stopped by conventional means.

What often gets overlooked in discussions about Fajardo is his durability—until recent years, he was virtually indestructible. From 2013 to 2018, he missed only 12 games total while playing through various minor injuries that would sideline most players. This reliability becomes especially noteworthy when we consider how teams now manage player health. The unexplained absence of players like Sato represents a different philosophy in athlete management—one that prioritizes rest and recovery differently than in previous eras. While both approaches have merit, Fajardo's ironman streak during his prime years contributed significantly to his team's consistency and success.

The evolution of Fajardo's game has been remarkable to witness firsthand. Early in his career, he was primarily a low-post scorer and rebounder. But over time, he's developed a reliable mid-range jumper, improved his passing out of double teams, and become a more versatile defender. I remember specifically during the 2017-2018 season when he worked extensively with shooting coach Jimmy Alapag to extend his range—the results were immediately evident as his field goal percentage from 15-20 feet jumped from 28% to nearly 42% in just one offseason. This commitment to expanding his skillset separates the truly great from the merely good.

Looking at the current landscape of Philippine basketball, I'm not sure we'll see another player achieve what Fajardo has. The combination of physical attributes, work ethic, basketball intelligence, and longevity creates a profile that feels almost unrepeatable. While we're seeing more players take strategic breaks like Sato's current absence from Chery Tiggo—which may well be for valid personal or developmental reasons—Fajardo's approach represents a different era of professional commitment. Both have their place in modern sports, but there's something uniquely compelling about Fajardo's relentless consistency.

As Fajardo moves into the later stages of his career, what impresses me most is how he's adapted his game to compensate for lost athleticism while maintaining his effectiveness. He's playing fewer minutes but with greater efficiency, using his experience and positioning to impact games in ways that don't always show up in traditional statistics. Having watched hundreds of his games, I can confidently say that his understanding of the game has only deepened with time. The legacy he leaves isn't just in the trophies and records—though there are plenty—but in redefining what's possible for Philippine basketball players. When future generations look back at the history of the sport in our country, Fajardo's name will stand apart, not just as the most dominant, but as the standard against which all greatness is measured.