Before living up to darkhorse tag, Pirates must ‘win in classroom,’ says coach Topex

Lyceum head coach Topex Robinson. Photo by Tristan Tamayo/INQUIRER.net

Varsity basketball’s saving grace lies in coaches like Topex Robinson never losing their way.

After back-to-back seasons moored in the gutter of the NCAA, the Lyceum Pirates have suddenly been the name on every coach’s lips—a darkhorse who vaulted into the spotlight after a solid performance in a preseason tournament.

But Robinson’s concern has less to do with dealing with the pressure of being a target. The former PBA playmaker is helping his players shoot for victories outside the court.

“We want to win in the classrooms first,” said Robinson Thursday night, when he guested on Sports IQ, the Inquirer’s live sports talk show.

Robinson has gone Coach Carter on all his players, demanding a strict adherence to class schedules and going to several measures to make sure that his players don’t use the varsity card to cut classes.

“I’ve started to take the relationship deeper with my players,” he said. “We want to build character. We want to take care of our players so that they will have a future to look forward to. If winning games is a consequence of that, then that would be a great bonus for us.”

The former San Sebastian standout knows the schedule of not just the 18 players on his regular roster but also those on Team B. He makes surprise clasroom checks (“that’s the trick—they never know when I’ll do my rounds”) to see if his players are there. He has given players logbooks and makes sure professors sign them, another proof of attendance. And he gives them books to read so that they can file a book report to submit to him.

“We have been at the bottom for the past two seasons and I knew I had to change something,” Robinson said. “I talked to the players and asked them about their lives and I was surprised to find out that a lot of these players either lost their fathers, were deserted by their fathers or have fathers who are OFWs.”

He instantly knew the role he had to play. But being a second dad to the players was not easy. “Not cheap too,” he joked.

But it’s a role he attacks with a newfound relish.

“I ask them to look at the future. Ten, 15 years from now. How do they see themselves? Are the things they do now helping them achieve that goal?”

Robinson was surprised to hear his players speak about their dreams. Aside from turning pro, players talked about being businessmen and politicians, too. “Mayor,” he heard one of them say. And he reminds them of these dreams whenever they lose their way.

With every car, condo unit, “free diploma,” or monthly allowance offered to high school stars to join varsity programs, college basketball loses a piece of its soul.

And the biggest hope for salvation lies in guys like Topex Robinson never straying from their path.