LOS ANGELES — This factual report is for Manny Pacquiao, the most famous Filipino boxer of our time.
“When I was pregnant with our first son, we had an argument and my husband slapped me… he forced me to walk in circles so many times in the vicinity of Hollywood Presbyterian Queen of Angels Hospital in order to induce me to give birth to our first son, accusing me of intentionally refusing to give birth.”
That statement forms part of an affidavit filed with the Los Angeles Superior Court which was acquired by the Philippine Daily Inquirer on Monday.
Pacquiao is terribly busy preparing for his next fight, so he’s free to treat this as cheap gossip or pure rubbish.
The case itself could also be both insignificant and irrelevant to Pacquiao that it cannot be expected to come in the way when he picks which pair of fighting shoes to wear in his next big fight on Oct. 6 in Las Vegas.
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However, it so happens that the accused in the case is someone Pacquiao openly trusts.
This same person, ranked as a pest by adversaries, has visibly spawned tension and disorder in Pacquiao’s gated Pallazzo apartment located on the classy side of La Brea.
Needless to say, we find it our duty to warn the boxing hero he would be needing more than a can of insect repellant when he returns here for the final push in his training against Mexico’s Marco Antonio Barrera.
Before anything else, my apologies for again reporting on the Pallazzo mess, an issue we had tried to put to rest. For the record, we did make a pact last week that the column on the case of the alleged pest would be the last on the matter.
However, we have no choice but break our word after it turned out that truth had been trampled by the subject of that column, who wantonly claimed he was faultless, neat, with no impending case or complaint whatsoever.
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Anyway, to show we’re not out to mangle anybody’s reputation, we will no longer name names.
Of course, we trust Pacquiao already knows who and what we mean, so he can pick it from there why Los Angeles cops had to be called into his apartment the other Sunday.
Maybe this need not be told but, in order to get his side, we called the accused, met with him, and presented the court papers Tuesday.
Well, at first, he tried to brush them off, saying he did not know anything about the case. Then, in a silly turnaround, he next claimed Pacquiao already had a copy of the complaint, insisting this was all hogwash.
“In the first place, why are you covering me like a celebrity, I’m nobody here,” he reprimanded this reporter.
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He had a point there. So, without exactly apologizing, I retreated, took the usual 40-minute walk on the baking streets back to this borrowed bed space, to plot a new column instead.
But hold it, please. I was set to deposit the court papers in the garbage bin. But, upon reading the fine print, it would become clear that the case against the accused was true, and supported by a restraining order.
Here are samplers: In case number BD436768 at the Los Angeles Superior Court (111 N. Hill St., Los Angeles, CA 90012), there’s a strict order for the accused “not to do the following things to the protected people listed,” namely his wife and two kids:
a) Harass, attack, strike, threaten, assault (sexually or otherwise), hit, follow, stalk, molest, destroy personal property, disturb the peace, keep under surveillance, or block movements.
b) Contact (either directly or indirectly), or telephone, or send messages or mail or e-mail.
The accused must stay at least 100 yards away from the persons listed, whether they be at home, in school or on the job.
The accused also cannot own, possess, have, buy or try to buy, receive or try to receive, or in any other way get a gun or firearm.
The restraining order will be imposed until 11:59 p.m., October 30, 2009 on the accused, described in the order sheet as with “black hair, brown eyes, age 36.”
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You see, it was a saucy charge sheet filed by the battered wife, but we will instead leave the papers at Wild Card, in case Pacquiao would care to pick them up later in the month.
There are more salient points, but space is of the essence here.
Here’s hoping Pacquiao does not treat all the labels and descriptions of his apartment caretaker, who’s said to advise the boxing superstar on media and other matters, as purely metaphoric — the way we had foolishly made it appear earlier.
This man who is being monitored by the police here, as he basks in the glory of Pacquiao’s fame, is no ordinary, insignificant insect.
He’s the Real Deal, a poor man’s Rasputin, and there’s nothing symbolic in this.
