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Philippines, 02 May 2024 |
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October 1, 1975: Thrilla in Manila Was an Ali-Day (Holiday) or How a Doubter/Hater Turned Into an Admirer By Teodoro Medina Reynoso PhilBoxing.com Sun, 04 Oct 2020  In the 70s, some Pinoy wise guys coined the term Ali-day, a derivative from the word holiday, as an excuse for skipping work or classes to watch Muhammad Ali fight on the nearest available so called boob tube or television. To be sure, many wanted to watch Ali fight to see him win---or finally lose, and lose badly. October 1, 1975, a Wednesday in the Philippines which was evening September 30, 1985, Tuesday in the US, was no exception for Pinoy boxing fans to self declare an Ali-day or holiday. For on the noon of that date, Muhammad Ali fought archrival Joe Frazier in the defense of his newly regained world heavyweight championship at the jampacked Araneta Coliseum in what went down in history as The Thrilla in Manila. Actually it was Ali himself who gave idea and inspiration to the organizers to come up with that fight theme when in an earlier pre-fight interview, he declared that, "It would be a killa, a chilla and a thrilla when I meet and beat the gorilla in Manila." For which, he was as usual, cheered or jeered. As in previous major, major Ali fights like his first meeting with Frazier on March 8 1971, a Monday and against George Foreman on October 30, 1974, Wednesday which were held on ordinary weekdays, true blue Pinoy boxing fans had contrived plans for another Ali-day. My group of classmates and friends had ours as usual, anticipating that then President Ferdinand Marcos would not decree a special public holiday for Filipinos to watch the once in a lifetime sports spectacular at home or wherever they can. The day before, we had managed to convince most of the predominantly female classmates of our Mass Communication batch at Pamantasan ng Lungsod ng Maynila for us to attend just our morning classes and disperse and disappear en masse by 11 AM. The scheme worked as planned. By the appointed time, our small group of plotters watched secretly from a distance how our professor for the 11 to 12 noon session could only scratch his head finding the classroom with nary a soul! For all we know, he might have also used the spare time to watch the fight himself. Feeling triumphant, our group of about a dozen young men headed straight to Luneta where we were to meet another classmate who was supposed to host our then version of what is now known as a watch party at their home in Sampaloc. To our collectively dismay, he reported that he could no longer host the watch party because his father had opted to take the day off and invited a few friends of his own to watch the fight on TV in their spacious living room. Just a few of us had television set, usually then with black and white screen, at home and no other would dare risk courting the ire of their parents or elders for skipping classes. As isko or scholars, we ought not be playing hooky. Our acknowledged gang leader Val Villanueva would also not take a risk with her strict mom though the spacious sala of their Bacood, Santa Mesa home would have easily accommodated our large group. We had a 21" B&W Toshiba at home but it would be impossible for our group to slip past my tough loving Nanay as she was tending our fruit stall at the gate leading to our private compound in Paco. Luckily, one classmate, Butch Betia belatedly volunteered to host us because both of his parents were out working. But his house was in far away Kamias in Quezon City, an hour commute and it was nearing noon, the scheduled fight time. With no other option left, we decided to take the offer and boarded a jeep bound for Quiapo from where we could catch a bus trip going to Kamias. We figured we could still catch up on the fight on TV, or whatever rounds were left, barring an early ending. Reaching Quiapo past its iconic church, we alighted and walking a few more meters to the bus stop, we found people milling around a row of open appliance stores. It was already half hour past noon. Out of curiosity, we joined one group and found to our relief that they were watching THE FIGHT on a series of turned on TV sets through a wide display glass window. Right then and there our group decided to forego with the plan of going to Kamias to watch the fight at Betia's home TV and just joined this impromptu watch party in Quiapo. It was cramped and crowded but one had the option to watch the fight from a selection of TV sets nearest him or most convenient from least obstructed view. Soon, we found ourselves in the midst of spirited cheering and jeering and side debating for and against one or the other fighter as Ali and Frazier went at each other from bell to bell, round after round. Ali and Frazier fanatics among us would let go a loud yelp with arms raised whenever one or the other got the better of the action. It was still touch and go till past the middle rounds with Ali scoring with bristling combinations fighting defensively from a distance and Frazier digging with heavy body blows and occasional left hooks whenever he got Ali on the ropes or the corners. 
I had been for Frazier since their first Battle of the Century fight four years ago. I also vainly rooted for George Foreman the year before in Kinshasha. I had just grudging admiration of Ali for his ring brilliance and for standing up for what he believed was just and right as in the fight for race equality and the immoral US war in Vietnam. But I had been always turned off by his big mouth and even bigger ego. I was hoping and looking at this third meeting for Ali to finally get his long overdue comeuppance. But I was already also changing my view of Ali from the time I saw him mingling with Filipino fans wearing the Barong and talking to them as if he was just an ordinary mortal during his gracing of the inauguration of the Ali Mall in Cubao a few weeks back. The 'Thrilla in Manila' fight totally transformed me from a hater to a full admirer. By the start of the championship round, it was becoming clear that the evenly fought match was turning to a mismatch, a carnage even. But Ali could not seem to put Frazier away. It seemed to me that he was lacking in punching power, stamina and most importantly, the killer's instinct to accomplish the job. It was Frazier's staying power that's holding him up but I sensed that Ali could deliver the finishing knockout blow at anytime if he wished or willed so. Ali was dog tired at that point but more so was Frazier who was also badly beaten, definitely much worst than in their first fight which he won but had to stay in the hospital and forgo fighting for the rest of 1971 afterwards. What I saw in Ali was not only kind consideration but mercy and respect for an already badly beaten foe who he could put out of his senses by the 12th or 13th round only if he willed so. I saw this of Ali earlier in that eighth round knockout of Foreman where he had a potentially more damaging followup right cocked but withheld it as George was spinning almost in slow motion down the canvas from an overhand right to the side of the head. Now I was seeing that human side of Ali in the third Frazier fight which even the black and white screen of the display TV sets failed to conceal its sheer violence and brutality especially in the earlier rounds. My personal, sentimental bet for a fight against Ali lost again. But I did not feel like a loser. I finally lost my old doubts and misgivings and gained a new, most worthy boxing idol in Muhammad Ali. The greatest fighter of all time, indeed. It was an Ali-day most well spent. I sure pined for those days when legends fought each other on ordinary weekdays and their fights were shown live on free TV. The author Teodoro Medina Reynoso is a veteran boxing radio talk show host living in the Philippines. He can be reached at teddyreynoso@yahoo.com and by phone 09215309477. Click here to view a list of other articles written by Teodoro Medina Reynoso.  |
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