This Filipino-American Baller Judges Pageants, Walks Runways, and Still Gets Buckets

Backdrops of belonging

On a humid morning in Manila, Cole Micek stood beneath the clatter of a passing train, the city vibrating around him. Later, on the beach in Siargao, sand in his socks and sun catching the edges of his toes, he would strike a pose that blurred the lines between athlete and artist, between cultural homage and modern reinvention.

These were deliberate backdrops, grounding the Filipino-American basketball player and model in a story that spans oceans and lineages. The photoshoot, spread over city trains and island courts, was a return: not just to the Philippines, but to the layered identity Cole carries with him through every jumpshot and camera flash.

Our conversation took place not across a café table, but through a series of questions sent digitally, a fitting reflection of the cross-continental life he leads. His answers, rich and unguarded, carried the cadence of someone equally fluent in ambition and introspection.

Indeed, his own origin story sounds almost mythic: a ball in his hands before he could walk, a father who played and coached professionally, a childhood shaped by squeaking sneakers and post-practice debriefs. What sets Cole apart is not just the obvious, his vertical, build, and blend of California ease and Manila grit, but the clarity with which he navigates the duality of his worlds.

A shared swagger

Court and catwalk. Hardwood and high fashion. The transitions, he says, are less jarring than they seem. “I have this alter ego. On the court, I play with a certain swagger because I know how much I’ve put into this game. In modeling, I keep that confidence, it just shifts depending on what the client needs. But for both, I make sure to smile, enjoy, and have fun. It’s all a blessing.”

Blessing is a word he returns to often. It’s not performative. There’s no forced spirituality. It’s simply the tone of a man who has learned, through torn ligaments and near-missed opportunities, to be grateful for what lasts.

In 2021, Cole passed on a TV role that would go on to become a breakout hit. The reason was that he was competing at the USA 3×3 Nationals at the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame. A few years later, he skipped the same tournament to travel to the Philippines for a tournament and to sit as a judge for Miss Universe Philippines. “Basketball is my first love,” he wrote. “And I won’t be able to play this game forever.”

There’s an honesty here that resists the polished narrative of the multi-hyphenate man. Cole knows he’s lucky to live both lives, but he also knows they don’t always intersect. When they do, like on this recent shoot, barefoot on island courts, riding trains through Manila traffic, they create something closer to autobiography than editorial.

Fashion and basketball mirror his aesthetic and shape how he sees himself in the larger conversation around Asian-American male representation. “Unfortunately, a lot of the world still sees things through an outdated mindset,” he said. “But I think the more we see Asian-American men in mainstream media, crushing it in whatever they’re doing, the more that narrative shifts.”

He doesn’t claim to be at the center of that shift, but his presence on the court, in campaigns, judging beauty queens, and signing brand deals, speaks for itself. There’s no ego in it. Just presence and work.

The ritual of readiness

His grooming rituals reveal yet another dimension to the balancing act. In a world that often demands masculine polish without the messiness of vulnerability, Cole approaches personal care with both intention and ease. It’s discipline: the idea that a man who can take a charge in the paint can also spend 20 minutes perfecting a gua sha routine.

“There’s definitely a difference between game day and shoot day,” he says. “Before a shoot, I go through it, shaving, toner, serums, moisturizer, eye cream. I’m heavy on skincare. I take it seriously.” His voice, if it could be heard, might carry a half-smile here, but he isn’t joking. It’s part of the uniform, just like a warmup or a set of stretches. A good grooming routine is all about readiness.

He talks about eye cream like it’s a secret weapon, not a luxury. “It’s essential. Especially with travel, jet lag, all the late nights, and early call times. I need to feel locked in before I’m in front of the camera. A good skincare routine puts me in that zone.”

Then there’s the gua sha, a sculpting ritual rooted in East Asian tradition, which Cole has woven into his modern routine. “It keeps the jawline intact,” he says with a wink embedded in his phrasing. But in truth, there’s something meditative and grounding about it.

Before a game, it’s different. Less ritual and more rhythm. He doesn’t shave. Sometimes he lets his facial hair grow out, as if to mark time passing in dogged weeks of training. But even then, he doesn’t let the basics slide.

Style-wise, there’s one other non-negotiable. “Shoe game,” he says. “Always gotta have heat on the feet.” Whether it’s sneakers that pop just right or more understated pairs that complement a silhouette, the shoes matter, on set, on court, or walking through arrivals at the airport.

But grooming, for Cole, is more than surface. It’s a way of claiming control in two unpredictable industries. A morning routine when days don’t have structure. A moment of quiet when your whole identity is being styled or scouted.

More than one reflection

One of the most striking aspects of his replies was the ease with which he speaks about pain, not in the melodramatic sense, but in the lived understanding that suffering comes with the territory. Torn ligaments, bone spurs, and fatigue, it’s all part of the job. What matters is how you respond.

As for what it means to stand in front of a camera during AAPI Heritage Month, representing a demographic still rarely centered in fashion or sports media, Cole says: “It means standing tall. Keeping my shoulders back and being proud of who I am. I want to remind people who look like me to keep pushing and breaking down barriers.”

In the end, he isn’t trying to be everything. He just is. He is the kid on a Manila street corner with a basketball under one arm and a camera trained on him. He is the Filipino-American whose face graces campaigns and whose feet dance across courts. Cole is the model, the hooper, and the bridge between cultures, genres, and expectations.

When he looks in the mirror, post-game or post-shoot, he doesn’t compartmentalize. “I see a Fil-Am kid living his dream,” he says. Nothing more. Nothing less. And for once, that’s more than enough.

Photography Kevin Roldan