Back home in the Philippines, Joel Figueroa says, there were basketball courts on every second street corner. It's the national sport there, arriving via the archipelago's American colonisers at the turn of the 20th century.

As a child, Mr Figueroa would hit the court as soon as school finished, playing with people of all ages until 9pm. But he was in for disappointment when he arrived in the western Sydney suburb of Blacktown in the 1980s, aged 15.

The only basketball courts were in schools or recreational centres. There were one or two outdoor courts in parks, he says, but they were rarely used.

Fast forward to 2016, and there is barely a day in the week that Mr Figueroa doesn't hear the pounding of bouncing balls and the shrill squeaks of rubber shoes on wooden courts.

After he clocks off from his full time job with a ball bearing company, he coaches and referees. On Saturdays, he criss-crosses Sydney to referee for the GPS competition: "the rich schools", he explains, shaking his head at the fees.

Blacktown is the "Philo" heartland in Australia. Most of Australia's Philippine population live in Sydney. Mr Figueroa estimates that 80 per cent of them are involved in basketball in some way: either as spectators, coaches, helpers, or players.

Social games are very popular; just turning up at a regular time to play with whoever is there.

For Mr Figueroa's family, it's total basketball immersion. His wife Gina, whose shrieks of "rebound, rebound!" from the sidelines are louder than Mr Figueroa's coaching, has managed their oldest son's team for 10 years.

"I love taking care of the boys, washing their jerseys, preparing their drinks, helping when they get injured," she says.

Aaron, or AJ, Figueroa, a 19 year-old health science student at Western Sydney University, is nursing a big injury of his own. He's done his ACL — anterior cruciate ligament — and is sidelined for a year. He is devastated.

"Basketball is a place I can lean onto, where I can get away from the negative stuff in my life, and just have fun," he says.

For AJ, his autistic brother Joshua's seizures and the distress they cause the family have been low points. Josh is 17 years old and non-verbal. When those episodes happen, AJ gives the basketball hoop at the side of their house a good workout. Joel, Gina, AJ, Joshua, Andrei and Jessica Figueroa. ( ABC RN: Ann Arnold )

As parents, Mr and Mrs Figueroa hoped basketball might "unlock" Joshua's autism. Mr Figueroa had read about this in a magazine. Some years ago they tried one-on-one coaching for him. They say Josh enjoyed it initially, but after a while started throwing the ball away.

"He was just going along for the hot chips," Mrs Figueroa says. Reluctantly, they gave up.

Jessica, their only daughter, is 15 years old. When she was younger, she dropped a bombshell: she said she did not want to play basketball.

The girls at school were playing netball, so she wanted to do that too. Mr and Mrs Figueroa tried as hard as they could to accept it. But, Mrs Figueroa says, netball was more expensive.

"That wasn't our sport," says Mr Figueroa.

Finally, Jess agreed to play basketball. She has had some testing times, including not being picked in a representative team because she was too small.

The size issue stings sometimes. Basketball is, after all, a tall person's sport.

"We're all small, we're all Asians," says Mrs Figueroa. "We go to a stadium and see the other team and it's: 'Oh my God, they're all tall!'"

But that fuels the fighting spirit. The challenge is to be quicker and smarter the Figueroas all say. And whatever you do, don't underestimate a Filipino basketballer.

Andrei Figueroa poses with some of his many basketball awards. ( ABC RN: Ann Arnold )

AJ's team has had significant success, winning a state competition in the under-14s and then again as under-16s. At one of the games, in a regional area, some of the opposition players were heard to say: "They're all f***ing Asians."

"Yes, we're all f***ing Asians," retorted Mr Figueroa, "and we'll see you on the court."

Blacktown Storm won by more than 30 points. Afterwards, there was more respect.

"They approach us and shake hands with us," Mrs Figueroa says. "So basketball is about getting to know other people more."

And for the youngest Figueroa, the bouncy, 13-year-old Andrei, basketball offers life lessons.

"In basketball I learned to never give up, to never be intimidated, even if you're, like, short or something."