DAVAO CITY — Defeat, more than triumph, is a better measure of character.
Manny Pacquiao fought a good fight, taking punches that could have felled a horse. He tried to give as good as he got, and in the process he got bloodied, blinded and bruised. But at the end of it the man was still standing.
The judges ruled and crowned the other guy victor. The loser took it like the gentleman he is. I salute you, Manny Pacquiao.
There are many things I share with my dad. Boxing is not anymore one of those. My dad bought us gloves when I was a kid. It’s one of those things that I thank him for, this idea that gender limits are remarkable in that it was okay to defy. Girls could learn the rules of a gentleman’s game. But these days, dad’s world stops when the round bell rings. Mine goes on.
You see, I don’t anymore see many gentlemen in boxing, and if I don’t see them I’m not in any way interested. Gone are Gabriel “Flash” Elorde, Muhammad “The Greatest” Ali, and that mercurial, miraculous Sugar Ray Leonard. I thought Iron Mike Tyson had it, until he bit someone’s ear in full view of millions around the world. I did not mind so much the rape conviction because he did time for that. And besides, celebrities are magnets for controversial charges so the benefit of the doubt is allowed here. But that bite? Whoa. Bad form.
In the Philippines, boxing seems to be the only sport that has mustered long term support. It has endured because, unlike basketball, it has brought us our share of triumph in the international arena. For many a gifted poor boy out there, boxing is more than just a social ladder. It is a social elevator, changing fortunes overnight and buying instant security for old age.
I have no beef with that. Muhammad Ali did and continues to do more to hasten the empowerment of the black American than any state policy for equal opportunity. If the icon for Filipino empowerment should come in the form of a pugilist who got by largely on the skin of his knuckles, so be it. Fly like a butterfly and sing like a Beatle. Or whatever is the Filipino version of that.
Many of our boxers had been media darlings at the height of the career. Some of them even branched out to forays in the entertainment industry, banking on their crossover audience appeal. Media tracked their heady rise to stardom, along with the accounts of their inability to deal with their celebrity status and to successfully manage their finances. Media also recounted how they fell from grace, only to rise from obscurity now and then with detailed reports of their wretched existence.
Take for example Lando Navarrette and his romance with the hammer and the steel pipe. He was a great boxer. But in the process of being one, he forgot to learn how to be a decent human being. It pains me to see Navarrette reduced to cadging for his needs past the time when his gifted hands could serve his purposes. It pains me to see his former fans mocking the man. But more than that, it pains me because he did this to himself.
Now, Manny Pacquiao – well, he seems to be living another story. And a welcome one.
Was it just ten years ago when boxing aficionado Rudy Golingan got this kid to do the amateur rounds at the NBC Stadium in GenSan? Before bombing GenSan malls became someone’s hobby, hubby and I lived in a walkup apartment in Guinoo Subdivision and we’d take the shortcut to Paul Gaisano’s mall passing through Golingan’s Family Country Homes. We could not fail to see the posters and plyboard cutouts advertising the boxing matches.
Pacquiao’s boxing career had very humble beginnings. It takes more than luck to defy humble beginnings and get to the top, and he has done so sans the excesses we have seen other boxers succumb to. He has provided for his family and he has maintained his friendships. Some years back, for example, the first time he came home a champ, he graced a humble reception at the Kalan-an sa Lagkaw, the carinderia fronting my house. The guests overflowed such that we found someone’s car blocking our driveway when we got home. I had to gatecrash their revelry so I could put my sleeping daughters to bed. I remember he so amiably set out to find the owner of the car and ask him to move. He even invited us to eat.
I was quite worried when he took on the more seasoned Morales because I watched Million Dollar Baby (please don’t bop me on my dainty head) and it was quite an education on the prizefighting culture. In any case, I thought there would be more to the learning and unlearning that would be required to train a champion, and I guess given his humble beginnings he had a lot of unlearning to do. It doesn’t prove much when a boxer knocks out his opponent very early in the match, and Pacquiao had been doing that a lot. So like, his earlier matches failed to show us his true measure as a boxer.
Plus, he just changed managers and this Roach seems too slick for my taste. Still, Pacquiao was quite candid about his motivations for changing managers. This one would get him the big purse, win or lose. So really, it wasn’t about boxing. It was about setting up a social security system – 1.75 million units of it. At least, he was able to do that without anyone in the audience whining that he got shortchanged. Twelve rounds. And Pacquiao slugged it out to the end.
In life and in prizefighting, he did the best he could. What more can the world ask from Manny Pacquiao?
Oh, and this is not the end. I’m actually looking forward to his next fight because this one will be about boxing. I think I’ll watch it with my dad.
