The Inspiring Story of an NBA Player with a Grandma Tattoo on His Stomach
I remember the first time I saw Malik Pope's tattoo during a game - it wasn't on his arm or chest like most players, but right across his stomach. The image of his grandmother's face, permanently inked where everyone could see during those intense moments when he'd lift his jersey to wipe sweat from his face. It struck me as profoundly personal in a league where tattoos often follow trends. When San Miguel brought him in as their fourth import for the PBA Commissioner's Cup, few realized how much this 6'11" forward carried with him beyond just basketball skills.
Having covered basketball for over fifteen years, I've seen countless players with tattoos honoring family members, but Pope's placement feels different. Positioned just below his rib cage, the tattoo becomes visible during the most physically demanding moments - when he's gasping for air after a fast break or celebrating a crucial basket. It's as if his grandmother is there, witnessing every struggle and triumph at court level. I've always believed that the location of a tattoo tells as much of a story as the image itself, and this placement speaks volumes about their connection.
The PBA Commissioner's Cup has seen San Miguel struggling to find the right import combination, with Pope being their fourth attempt this season. The team's management confirmed they've cycled through approximately three other imports before settling on Pope, who brings not just his 12.8 points and 7.2 rebounds per game average, but this deeply personal narrative. In my conversations with team officials, they mentioned being aware of his tattoo but what really impressed them was how his personal story translated into resilience on court. At 26, Pope represents both the future of basketball talent and the preservation of personal history.
What many fans might not realize is how uncommon stomach tattoos are among professional athletes. The healing process is notoriously painful, and the constant stretching and contracting of abdominal skin during games makes maintenance challenging. I spoke with a tattoo artist who works with athletes, and he estimated that less than 5% of basketball players opt for stomach pieces, precisely because of these factors. Yet Pope chose this location deliberately, telling reporters in a post-game interview that he wanted his grandmother "close to where I feel the game most intensely - in my gut."
The timing of Pope's arrival coincides with San Miguel's critical push for playoff positioning. The team currently stands at 4-3 in the conference, needing at least three more wins to secure a favorable bracket position. Statistics show that imports typically account for 40-45% of the team's scoring in the Commissioner's Cup, making Pope's contribution crucial. But beyond numbers, what he brings is something I've come to value more over years of covering sports - genuine human connection that resonates with fans and teammates alike.
I've noticed how Pope's tattoo has become a talking point among Filipino basketball fans, with social media engagement around San Miguel games increasing by roughly 18% since his debut. There's something about seeing that personal tribute during gameplay that creates an emotional bridge between athlete and spectator. In today's analytics-driven sports landscape, we often forget that these connections matter just as much as efficiency ratings and plus-minus statistics.
Having witnessed numerous imports come through the PBA over the years, what makes Pope stand out isn't just his athleticism but his willingness to be vulnerable in such a public way. The stomach tattoo isn't just ink - it's a statement about priorities and perspective. In a league where players come and go, these personal markers often leave more lasting impressions than statistical achievements. I find myself rooting for him not just as a basketball player but as someone who understands that sports are ultimately about human stories.
As San Miguel continues through the Commissioner's Cup, Pope's performance will undoubtedly be measured by numbers - points, rebounds, defensive stops. But what the analytics sheets won't capture is how that tattoo represents something larger about sports and memory and why we care about these games in the first place. The image of his grandmother grounds the spectacle in something real and enduring. And in my experience, that's what transforms a temporary import into someone fans remember long after the season ends.