The humid Manila air clung to my skin as I squeezed into the plastic seat at the Pasay City Sports Complex. Below me, the MPBL court buzzed with pre-game energy, the squeak of sneakers echoing in the cavernous space. It was Thursday night, and the triple-header was about to begin—Sarangani against Cebu at 4 p.m., Basilan against Mindoro at 6 p.m., and now, the main event: Pasay against Bataan at 8 p.m. I’ve been coming to these games for years, drawn by the raw, unfiltered passion of Philippine basketball, but tonight felt different. As I watched the players warm up, launching three-pointer after three-pointer from beyond the arc, it struck me how deeply the game has transformed. This wasn’t just a local league quirk; it was a microcosm of a global shift. How the NBA 3-point revolution changed basketball forever isn’t just a catchy headline—it’s the story of how a single shot rewrote the rules of the game, from the gleaming floors of the Golden State Warriors’ arena to this gritty court in Pasay.

I remember the first time I truly noticed the shift. It was around 2016, and I’d been watching NBA highlights where teams like the Warriors were launching threes at a rate that would’ve been unthinkable a decade earlier. Back then, the three-pointer was a specialty weapon, something you’d pull out in clutch moments or when a sharpshooter like Reggie Miller had a hot hand. But suddenly, it became the offense. I recall arguing with my uncle, a old-school purist who swore by post-ups and mid-range jumpers, about whether this was “real basketball.” He’d grumble about players being soft, but the numbers didn’t lie. In the 1979-80 NBA season, when the three-point line was introduced, teams averaged just 2.8 attempts per game. Fast forward to the 2022-23 season, and that number skyrocketed to over 34.1 per game—a 1,118% increase that’s as staggering as it sounds. And it’s not just the pros; this trickle-down effect has reached everywhere, even here in the MPBL.

As the Pasay-Bataan game tipped off, I couldn’t help but track the three-point attempts. Pasay’s point guard, a wiry kid with lightning-quick release, drained one from the corner early in the first quarter, and the crowd erupted. It reminded me of a stat I’d read: in the MPBL’s 2023 season, three-point attempts made up roughly 38% of all field goal attempts, up from about 22% just five years ago. That’s a 72% jump, and it’s not by accident. Coaches here have embraced analytics, realizing that even if you hit just 35% from deep, it’s equivalent to shooting 52.5% on two-pointers. Math doesn’t lie, and neither does the excitement it generates. I leaned over to my seatmate, a fellow regular named Miguel, and we chatted about how games feel faster now, more unpredictable. “Remember when big men just camped in the paint?” he laughed. “Now even centers are popping threes. It’s like everyone’s trying to be Steph Curry.”

But it’s not all sunshine and rainbows. As much as I love the thrill of a buzzer-beating three, I’ll admit there are downsides. Sometimes, watching teams jack up 40 threes a game can feel repetitive, like they’re playing a percentages game rather than basketball artistry. I miss the elegance of a well-executed pick-and-roll or a tough fadeaway in the post. In this very MPBL game, Bataan went cold from beyond the arc in the third quarter, missing eight straight attempts, and their offense looked stagnant. It highlighted a risk I’ve seen in the NBA too: over-reliance on the three can make teams one-dimensional. Yet, for every dry spell, there’s a moment of magic. When Pasay hit back-to-back threes to close the gap in the fourth quarter, the arena shook with energy. It’s that volatility that hooks fans—including me. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve screamed at the TV during playoff games, riding the emotional rollercoaster of a hot shooting streak.

What fascinates me most is how this revolution has democratized the game. In the past, you needed a dominant big man or a slasher to win championships. Now, teams built around shooters, like the 2015 Warriors who made 883 threes in a single season (a record at the time), have proven that skill and spacing can trump sheer size. Here in the Philippines, where height isn’t always on our side, the three-pointer has leveled the playing field. Watching Basilan take on Mindoro earlier that evening, I saw guards from both sides firing away with confidence, knowing that a well-timed three could swing momentum instantly. It’s why leagues like the MPBL have embraced this style—it’s exciting, accessible, and resonates with a generation raised on highlight reels. Personally, I think it’s made the game more inclusive, allowing undersized players to shine in ways they couldn’t before.

As the final buzzer sounded, with Pasay pulling off a 92-88 win thanks to a clutch three in the last minute, I walked out into the warm night, my ears ringing from the cheers. Reflecting on how the NBA 3-point revolution changed basketball forever, I realize it’s more than just a tactical shift; it’s a cultural one. It’s influenced how kids practice in driveways, how coaches draft plays, and how fans like me experience the sport. Sure, I have my gripes—I’ll always cherish the grit of 90s basketball—but I can’t deny the excitement it’s injected into every level of the game. From the MPBL’s triple-headers to the NBA Finals, the three-pointer isn’t just a shot anymore; it’s the heartbeat of modern basketball. And as long as that arc exists, the game will keep evolving, one swish at a time.