Racela prayed for a storybook ending. It didn't happen. His chance for one last PBA championship was over. In the middle of another team's celebration - a denouement. Everything was over. The career which has spanned forever is finite, after all. Not because of injury. Not because of irrelevance. Simply because time was up.

Bravely, Racela led the second-place team, out of the locker-room and back on the floor. He must have counted each step, must have heard the cracking of every crushed piece of paper confetti under his shoe, must have felt the weird vibe of the very last post-championship event he'll experience as a PBA player. It was a losing moment, but a moment nonetheless.

So he clutched the generously-sized silver runner-up trophy with one hand and took his final bows. Sad yet, ultimately, satisfied. He took four bows to say thank you. I'm sure, in the wisdom gained from 18 PBA years, Olsen knew that a storybook ending to an already storybook career - from Ateneo, to the PABL, to the PBA, to several National Teams, to setting the bar for point guard play - was overkill.

Two minutes later, the champions hopped on the makeshift stage. Ryan tried to stay incognito; squeezed between smiling teammates, content not be front and center. Please just let me celebrate. But it was unavoidable. He was just happy to feel good, for a change. But it would've been callous for people with the microphone, for people on television, not to point his situation out.

The basketball court was Ryan's refuge. The Finals provided a means to cope. He never wanted to openly discuss the death of his younger brother, Alan Raymond. But he played with such heartfelt resolve, everyone figured what was going on. I hope winning the championship expedited the process of healing. The way he played through it all certainly tattooed a lasting impression on the minds of everyone who watched.

If Olsen looked down moments ago, humbled by how far he has gone, Ryan looked up as his team received the massive winners' trophy. He looked upwards and pointed his index finger to the sky. Then, he pounded his chest. Repeatedly. This celebration wasn't his alone. He'll likely tell us he was never alone in the series. He didn't want to explain how a player so broken inside could play such solid basketball games. No one forced him to. Because they understood.

Olsen looked down. Ryan looked up. And we all looked on. Jimmy Alapag and Jason Castro deserved recognition. But as teams united to honor an 18-year career or fused to overcome the horror of untimely death, I chose two players, my Finals MVP's, because their stories truly moved.

Mico Halili, GMA News TV