Looking back at Game 2 of the 2022 NBA Finals, I still get chills remembering how those key moments unfolded. As someone who’s followed basketball for over a decade, both as a fan and an analyst, I’ve learned that championships aren’t always decided by the obvious stars or the flashy plays. Sometimes, it’s the subtle gaps—the rebounds that slipped away, the defensive rotations that came a split second too late—that quietly tilt the scale. And in this game, one of those under-the-radar stories was the rebounding battle, particularly how Barangay Ginebra managed to cling to a narrow 46-41 advantage on the boards. Now, that might not sound like much, but let me tell you, in a high-stakes finals matchup, every single rebound carries weight.
I remember watching Troy Rosario that night and feeling a mix of hope and frustration. Here’s a player who averaged close to seven rebounds during the eliminations—a reliable presence in the paint—but in this crucial game, he only managed three boards. Three. That’s a conference-low for him, and honestly, it stood out to me as a missed opportunity. Don’t get me wrong, he wasn’t entirely off; he contributed eight points and went 2 of 3 from beyond the arc, which shows his versatility as a stretch big. But in a game where every possession mattered, I couldn’t help but think, "What if he’d hauled in just a couple more rebounds?" That slim five-rebound lead for Ginebra could have easily stretched to eight or nine, and in a tight contest, that might have sealed the deal earlier. I’ve always believed that in the finals, role players like Rosario need to step up in every facet, and while his shooting was solid, the boards felt like a letdown.
Thankfully, Ginebra had others who stepped into the void, and this is where the game’s turning points really come into focus for me. Justin Brownlee, Japeth Aguilar, and Scottie Thompson—what a trio they were that night. Together, they combined for 25 rebounds, and I’d argue that was one of the unsung heroes of the championship. Brownlee’s hustle under the rim, Aguilar’s athleticism in snatching boards over taller opponents, and Thompson’s relentless energy—it felt like they were everywhere. I recall one sequence in the third quarter where Thompson grabbed an offensive rebound off a missed three, leading to a second-chance bucket that shifted the momentum. Moments like that don’t always make the highlight reels, but as an analyst, I see them as game-changers. They didn’t just make up for Rosario’s quiet night; they amplified Ginebra’s presence in the paint, and that, in my view, was a key reason they stayed in control.
But let’s be real—while those three carried the load, an added boost from Rosario wouldn’t have hurt. In fact, I think it could have made the difference between a comfortable win and a nail-biter. I’ve seen teams in past finals where one player’s off-night snowballs into a collective struggle, but Ginebra avoided that, partly because of their depth. Still, as a fan of the game, I lean toward wanting every piece to click. Rosario’s ability to stretch the floor with his three-point shooting is valuable, no doubt, but in the finals, you need that dual threat—scoring and rebounding—to keep opponents guessing. When I rewatched the game later, I noticed a few plays where he was in position for a rebound but got outmuscled or hesitated. It’s those small margins that haunt you in retrospect, and I can’t help but wonder if a more aggressive approach on the glass might have padded their lead earlier.
As the game wore on, the rebounding edge started to feel like a psychological weapon. Every time Ginebra secured a board, especially on the defensive end, it seemed to suck the life out of their opponents. I remember thinking, "This is how championships are won—not just with flashy dunks, but with gritty, grind-it-out efforts." The final numbers might show a modest 46-41 advantage, but the impact was larger than that. It allowed Ginebra to control the tempo, limit second-chance points, and fuel their transition game. In my experience, teams that dominate the boards in the finals often dictate the flow, and here, it was no different. Sure, Rosario’s low rebound count was a blip, but the collective effort from Brownlee, Aguilar, and Thompson turned it into a non-issue. That, to me, is the mark of a championship-caliber team—the ability to cover for each other’s off-nights.
In the end, Game 2 was a masterclass in how small details accumulate into a decisive victory. Rosario’s three rebounds might seem like a minor footnote in the box score, but for someone like me who digs into the analytics, it’s a reminder that every player’s contribution—or lack thereof—ripples through the game. I walked away from that night impressed by Ginebra’s resilience, but also with a lingering thought: if Rosario can find a way to balance his outside shooting with more consistent board work, this team could be even more formidable in future series. Championships are built on these kinds of adjustments, and as a lifelong follower of the sport, I’m excited to see how it all unfolds. For now, though, I’ll remember Game 2 as a testament to teamwork and those quiet, turning-point rebounds that don’t always get the applause they deserve.