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BY MARISSE PANALIGAN
PRODUCED FOR THE WEB BY KAELA MALIG
CAGER CLASH by EVERYST | ARTWORK BY ELMER SANTOS
MAY 28, 2019
GROWING UP, Gabe Norwood admits that even though he had some idea, he didn’t know exactly what it meant to be Filipino.
“It was actually kind of funny,” he says. “For a long time, my vision was Hawaiian and Filipino were the same thing.”
Up until the age of five, Norwood lived in Hawaii, where the Philippine side of his family migrated and where his parents met. His father is African American while his mother is Filipino American through his lola, who traces her roots to Calasiao, Pangasinan. Like the similarities between Kalua pig and lechon, cultures and identities bleed together. This was how Norwood came to understand his mixed heritage in a place like the United States, where racial politics seep through every fiber of society.
“When you go in to take standardized tests and they ask you to check a nationality and you're sitting there like, uhhh... Asian... Asian-Pacific?” Norwood says. “You know you have options and you understand that other guys in the room don’t.”
Norwood grew up to be good enough to play college basketball at George Mason University, helping the team go on a Cinderella run to the Final Four of the NCAA tournament in 2006. But like many other graduates, he didn’t know exactly what was next after leaving school.
“I was a role player all through college,” Norwood says. “I had one workout with an NBA team which didn’t go well... I thought that was it for me.”
It was his Filipino heritage that gave him a life-changing option: the chance to play for the Philippine national team and become a professional basketball player after the NBA closed its doors on him.
For Chot Reyes, the national coach at the time, Norwood’s talent was undeniable.
“We saw in Norwood an athletic player and a tall utility man. The 6’5” guard we never had, who could guard the opponent’s best wingman, be a playmaker and fastbreak finisher,” he says.
AFTER GETTING A TASTE of Philippine basketball in the 2007 FIBA Asia Championship in Tokushima in Japan, Norwood made the decision to cross the Pacific and try his luck in his grandmother’s homeland.
The decision, he says, was not simply about just playing hoops.
“I wanted to learn more about myself, what makes me me, my family, who they are, and this was the best way I could come back and really do that through the game of basketball,” Norwood says.
But Norwood didn’t always get a warm welcome to start his Philippine basketball journey.
Even after playing for the national team, the Philippine Basketball Association didn’t immediately allow him to join the draft, owing to questions over whether he had enough Filipino lineage. Eventually, the league relented, and Norwood was drafted first overall by Rain or Shine in 2008.
Through his career, Norwood would still encounter hecklers who called out his heritage.
“I had times you wanna speak back or kinda stand your ground,” Norwood says. “But at the same time I think it was not from a place of hate or hurt but from a place of passion and pride. I think I can handle that with respect and agree to disagree.”
Through it all, Norwood always made himself available to represent flag and country each time the national squad called.
“What we liked most is that Norwood is good people,” Reyes says. “A consummate team player and the type of leader other players will follow.”
Perhaps his most memorable moment came at the 2014 FIBA Basketball World Cup, where the Philippines returned to the top stage of international basketball for the first time in four decades. Against a legendary Argentina squad, Norwood rose up for a poster-perfect dunk over former NBA player Luis Scola.
“Puwede na maging bayani ‘to,” says Beau Belga, his long-time teammate both at Rain or Shine and with the national team. “Those international stints na binigay niya, walang pahinga ‘yun, dire-diretso. So talagang bibilib ka. Bibilib ka sa kanya dahil sobra ‘yung pagmamahal niya sa country.”
FOR JAMES YAP, his teammate at Rain or Shine, there’s no question that Norwood is Pinoy.
“Meron ibang players na galing [ibang bansa] medyo mailap eh. Sa kanya talagang nakiki-bonding siya sa mga teammates namin na pure Filipino,” says Yap, who also played with Norwood a couple of times on the national team. “Para talaga siyang pure Filipino, kumbaga hundred percent Filipino, hindi siya half. Parang dito talaga siya lumaki kasi mabait eh, magaling makisama.”
These days, Norwood also reps the Philippines in yet another way: on the web comic Cager Clash.
“It is an anime but at the same time the illustrator’s from here, he’s Pinoy also,” says Norwood, who is part of the creative team behind the manga. “We really developed a good flow to the story to where we can really put in different concepts and aspects of Philippine culture and basketball culture.”
Cager Clash is full of Filipino symbols: from the jeep Gabe is riding to the baybayin on the back of his shirt to the colors of the Philippine flag on his headband.
The story is told in first person by his alter-ego Cage Gabe, posting like an ordinary Twitter user. Instead of having the reader click to turn the page or scroll down through panels, text and art appear as if the story is unfolding in real-time. Using the reply function, characters interact with each other and even respond to reactions from the audience.
The story begins with a tweet on March 7. The panel shows Cager Gabe in mid-air about to flush the ball left-handed into the rim — a clear nod to another one of his iconic dunks. It was accompanied by a rather ominous caption: “You think you know basketball. You don’t.”
In the next panel, Cager Gabe is facing off against a red-eyed, horned monster in a court surrounded by fire.
Norwood describes Cager Clash as a sort of combination of Space Jam, The Last Dragon, and Shazam! It is certainly a mash-up of genres—a blue-haired fairy suddenly appears to take him into another world, where he becomes a player in a one-on-one basketball tournament against opponents with superpowers. The fairy becomes his coach to prepare him for the battles, teaching him to dodge balls in flames and dribble balls as heavy as rocks.
If this sounds familiar, that’s because it is a common storyline used by many anime series like Ghost Fighter, Flame of Recca, Hunter X Hunter, Shaman King, and many others. This is not a surprise — Everyst, the team behind Cager Clash, is a Japanese company.
“I am not a huge anime follower and this has kinda opened my eyes to the whole scene,” Gabe says. “My Hero Academia is probably my favorite thing I've watched in the last probably five years.”
My Hero Academia is one of the most popular anime releases in recent years. Interestingly, it features a main character, Deku, a boy who was born without a power called “Quirk” in a universe where trying to become a superhero is a legitimate career path.
It’s the exact mirror image of Gabe’s player profile. In a game where everyone is trying to be a superstar, he has always been a quiet contributor on the court.
REFLECTING on his journey, Norwood realizes the plain truth about his identity.
“I knew who I was, it was just a matter of learning more and really embracing it,” he says.
Despite this, there are still issues about how Philippine basketball treats players of mixed lineage. The PBA, for example, still makes a distinction between local players and Fil-foreigners, imposing a limit of five Fil-foreign players per team.
But who counts as a Fil-foreigner? Gabe says there are so many gray areas.
“There’s guys who might be of mixed heritage but born and raised here. Or you might have guys who are full Filipino but raised in the States,” he says.
Still, there are things that remain simple.
“At the end of the day, we’re here as Filipinos, we’re proud of who we are. When your name is called, you don’t hesitate, you step up to the challenge. I wouldn’t do anything different throughout my international career,” he says.
And as an African American, he knows the dangers of putting people into boxes.
“Speaking as a black man in the world as well, there's some scary things going on all over the place in the States and things like that,” he says.
The issue has become even closer to his heart, because he himself is raising a mixed heritage family. His wife, Lei, is half-Persian, half-Filipino from Davao. Their sons — Cassius, Orion, and Idris — have an even more complex identity. But he teaches them that they are Filipinos, and nobody can take that away from them.
“I think that's just a sign of the times changing that people are really into claiming who they are and not really settling for what other people call them, you know what I mean? It's a powerful time,” Gabe says.
And as for himself? Gabe feels Filipino, because he is Filipino.
“I’ve lived in Manila longer than I lived in any city in the States. I’m from Manila. I’m from the Philippines.”
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