Their first jersey was technically designed by Lynx — but "designed" might have been too generous a word.
The concept started as a doodle during lunch at the cafeteria. He was halfway through sketching when his elbow bumped his drink, spilling iced coffee all over the napkin. He blinked at the stain, then smiled proudly.
"It's vintage texture," he declared.
"It's liquid regret," Mico muttered.
The original color scheme was supposed to be deep imperial maroon with gold highlights — bold, royal, professional. But when the uniforms arrived, the team stared in collective silence at what could only be described as... crimson red bordering on tomato sauce.
Uno was the first to speak. "At least we look hot."
Mico exhaled through his nose. "We look like a walking food commercial."
Felix, ever the optimist, hummed thoughtfully. "Maybe it symbolizes energy and vitality."
Jairo squinted at the jersey. "It symbolizes spaghetti."
Lynx shrugged. "Tomato is the color of passion. It's a statement."
"Yeah," Mico replied, "and the statement is: 'We were too broke for maroon.'"
The word CASTILLIAN was printed across the chest in an overly dramatic Gothic font — the kind that looked like it belonged on a medieval banner, not a sports jersey.
At first, everyone was impressed. Then Felix turned around.
"Why does mine say FELI?" He asked, deadpan.
Mico checked the printing sheet. "Your name's too long. It didn't fit the font."
Felix blinked. "…Minimalism?"
"Budget constraints," Lynx corrected, nodding sagely.
Uno clutched his sides laughing. "Bro, you sound like a new skincare brand."
Felix didn't even argue. He just sighed and muttered, "At least it's symmetrical."
When it came to jersey numbers, things escalated fast.
Uno called dibs first. "Seven. It's lucky. And sexy. Just like me."
Mico didn't even look up from the roster. "Sure. Delusion fits the theme."
He picked 0 for himself — crisp, clean, absolute. "Because that's how many mistakes I allow," he said simply.
Jairo grinned. "Then I'll take 8! It's like infinity, you know? Endless energy!"
Felix chose 15, quietly noting it represented the number of rebounds he planned to grab per half.
Everyone accepted this without question because… it was Felix.
Then Lynx, with a grin that spelled chaos, said, "I'll take 69."
Mico froze. "You're not serious."
"I'm spiritually consistent."
Felix rubbed his forehead. Uno choked on air.
Jairo yelled, "Nice!" before Mico smacked him with a rolled-up paper.
---
The next day, when they wore the jerseys for the first time, the effect was… indescribable.
The bright crimson-red fabric reflected the afternoon sun like a glossy warning sign. The gold numbers glared like overcooked foil. And the Gothic font made them look like a renaissance boyband on fire.
Uno loved it immediately. "We look iconic."
Jairo flexed. "We look dangerous."
Felix adjusted his collar. "We look… visible."
Mico sighed. "We look like condiments."
Lynx twirled dramatically, letting the light catch his absurdly shiny number. "We look unforgettable."
And, against all odds, he was right.
When the Castillian team walked across campus that day, everyone stopped and stared. Some laughed. Some took pictures. One art student even asked if they were doing a "performance piece."
By the time they reached the court, Mico's phone had already buzzed with messages from his classmates:
[ Bro, I saw your team's jersey. Are you okay? ]
[ Bold choice, Esguerra. ]
[ You guys look like a sponsorship for ketchup. ]
Mico didn't respond. He simply gathered the team, looked them over one last time, and said, "Alright. If we're going to look ridiculous, we might as well win looking ridiculous."
Lynx grinned, tossing the ball in the air. "Now that's the spirit."
---
They didn't have an official sponsor yet, so they pooled their allowances and bought cheap but shiny polyester fabric from a local store two blocks away from campus.
It gleamed like a disco ball under sunlight and reflected gym lights so aggressively that Uno called it "camera-friendly." Unfortunately, it also stuck to their skin every time they sweated — which was always.
During their first fitting, Jairo tried running a layup and ended up peeling half the jersey off his back like cling wrap.
Felix deadpanned, "We could use this as emergency insulation."
Mico scribbled something on his clipboard that looked suspiciously like 'never again.'
The logo was a simple stylized crown and flame — meant to symbolize dominance and passion.
Uno, naturally, claimed it represented "our hotness and supremacy."
Prof. Damaso stared at it for a full three seconds before saying, "It looks like a fast-food logo."
Without missing a beat, Lynx replied, "Fast food feeds people. We feed victories."
The professor just sighed and muttered, "And indigestion."
They didn't have matching shoes either.
Mico wore clean white high-tops "for focus."
Felix had old black ones patched with tape that he called "battle scars."
Jairo sported glowing neon-green shoes, claiming they made him "run faster."
Lynx proudly wore mismatched sneakers — red on the left, white on the right.
Uno had customized his pair with gold marker, scribbling "UNO ♥" on both sides.
When they walked together, they looked less like a basketball team and more like a performance art group sponsored by chaos.
Their "official" warm-up jackets were just plain hoodies they bought in bulk.
To personalize them, Lynx heat-pressed the word CASTILLIAN on the front using cheap vinyl.
After two washes, half the letters started peeling. Uno said it looked "urban." Lynx called it "distressed design." Mico called it "evidence."
---
Despite all the mishaps, the day they received their full "uniform set," they posed proudly in front of the gym for their first official team photo.
Uno winked. Lynx threw a peace sign. Jairo flexed. Felix blinked mid-shot. And Mico stood front and center, looking like he was regretting every life choice that brought him there.
The lighting was bad. The logo was crooked. Lynx's jersey had a fresh ketchup stain.
But somehow — somehow — that photo became iconic.
It ended up on the Casa University bulletin board, the student newsletter, and even a meme page titled [ Teams You Root For Out of Pity. ]
Lynx printed a copy and hung it in his room. Mico pretended to hate it but used it as his phone wallpaper for a week.
Prof. Damaso framed it quietly in his office, labeling it:
[ Empirical Proof of Miracles #1. ]