When Brian Viloria draped the Philippine flag over his body after that first round knockout of opponent Eric Ortiz, a collective gasp of incredulity could virtually be heard from spectators at the Staples Center in Los Angeles.
For the new world Boxing Council Light Flyweight titleholder is the “Hawaiian Punch” – a ring gladiator who until September 11, 2005 was largely unknown to millions of Filipinos. Today, any Pinoy who confesses that he doesn’t know about Brian Viloria – world champ, singer, saxophone player, magician, artist, amateur film director – must have been hibernating in a cave for the last six months or so.
“It was all very spontaneous. It helped make people know who I am, and showed that I value where I am from,” said the Waipahu, Hawaii-born Brian. The act settled doubts about who he was, because there were those who were saying that he was ashamed of his Filipino ancestry. While Hawaiians and Americans in general were naturally astonished, the flak surprisingly came from Filipinos who felt offended and who thought the 25-year-old champ was capitalizing on the country’s need for a “hero.”
“‘He’s American, why did he do that?’ They felt everything was an act, like a publicity stunt, and I was trying to ride on the bandwagon of Manny Pacquiao’s popularity,” Brian said.
Truth be told, Brian is a G.I. – a Genuine Ilocano – whose parents Ben and Rosemarie hail from Ilocos Sur. He spent his early childhood in Narvacan with the “very warm family” of Grandfather Oscar and numerous uncles, aunts and cousins.
“He was sickly as a child. He was asthmatic, but that changed when we returned to Hawaii. Even as a kid, his talent for boxing was already apparent, and that’s not really surprising because our family loves the sport, though no one in the family fought professionally before Brian. I even wanted to be a boxer, but my father would have none of it,” discloses Manong Ben, as Brian’s father is called.
While most Fil-American kids grow up not knowing anything about their ancestry, Manong Ben made sure that Brian and siblings Gaylord and Roxanne knew about their Ilocano roots. “I would frequently bring Brian home to Narvacan and tell him how 1 grew up, how life was like and how hard it was then. I wanted him to get acquainted with his roots and to make them realize what they have and not take it for granted,” revealed Manong Ben.
Not that there is any confusion or identity crisis with Brian, a Broadcast Journalism major at the Northwestern Michigan University. One time, when fight promoter Bob Arum introduced him to the press as a half-Filipino, half-Hawaiian, Brian stood up and said: “Mr. Arum, I am a full-blooded Filipino.”
“A lot of kids of my generation grow up confused about their identity. A lot of Filipino kids today who grew up in America are ashamed of our culture, and who we are in general. They would rather have a hamburger than adobo or pinakbet. They’re so Americanized and they don’t know Filipino values, and it’s really sad because they have an identity crisis. That being said, I guess it was symbolic on my part to drape the [Philippine] flag around myself. That simple act said it all,” explains the Sydney 2000 Olympian and 1999 World Amateur Boxing Championships gold medallist.
That Brian’s Ilocano roots have been deeply ingrained in his heart is undoubted. After winning that WBC light flyweight championship title, he went home to Narvacan to find his 72-yearold grandfather dying. It had been four years since his last visit, and the new champ regaled his grandfather about his exploits in the ring. A day after Brian left to catch a flight home to Hawaii and minutes after a TV news clip showing the boxing champ with President Gloria Arroyo, Oscar died, surrounded by newspaper clippings and uttering his grandson’s name.
“Everybody sees me in the ring when I fight but they don’t know that behind me is my father, my trainer, my coach and my whole family,” he says, admitting that his relationship with his father is special and that most of the time they are more like brothers and friends. “While discipline and training count a lot, it’s also important. for a fighter to have the support of his family and friends, the people you can count on to when you’re feeling low, and they just tell you to keep going on,” the 5-ft.-3-in. puncher stresses, most likely remembering that awful time when Mexican fighter Ruben Contreras lay comatose for weeks after their bout – which almost led Brian to quit the sport.
Asked what makes one fighter better than another given the fact that both have the same training, skill and strength, Brian has only one word by way of an explanation: Heart. “Heart makes the difference between the best fighters and the worst fighters. The size of the heart when you go into the ring, and your will to keep going. Of course I won’t go inside the ring with just heart, there’s training and preparation, and laying all your skills out there. But then it also comes down to who has the bigger heart,” Brian says.
That, plus the unwavering support of his family have definitely brought this G.I. to where he is now – a world champ.
