GERRY PE?ALOSA flashed a fist and made a triumphant cry when the bell ending his 12-round ordeal sounded in Las Vegas on Sunday.
He was trying to send a victorious Valentine message.
But a Halloween mask, horrifying and smeared in blood, flashed on the television screen.
Pe?alosa, 37, appeared haggard as a hermit returning from a clash with the furies.
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Gerry wanted a little celebration.
He elicited pity, instead.
What came next was a unified cry for him to please hang up his gloves.
OK, Pe?alosa did make Filipinos proud again with his fearless stand.
There, indeed, was nothing to apologize for.
He was, however, overheard later telling his wife, Goody, sorry, because he failed to do enough inside the ring.
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Pe?alosa lost by split decision to the smart and stronger Eric Morel.
He had a sharp finish, landing more punches in the closing rounds.
But two of the three judges, obviously swayed by the solid stand of the 34-year-old Morel in the first half, picked the former two-time world champ from Puerto Rico.
By their looks, Gerry appeared every inch the loser, while Morel was practically unscathed at the final bell.
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The bout was billed as an eliminator for the bantamweight crown challenge.
Morel indeed showed he could still go places.
But, although Gerry still had the moves, he lacked the old sting in his punches.
He did land enough blows, but in future fights he needs to dig deeper for what little bite is left in his arsenal.
That’s if he’s to lend significance to his indefinite hunt for extra glory.
At least, Gerry did not end up delivering a big Valentine joke.
* * *
This, of course, could not be said of the main event, featuring the sensational Nonito Donaire Jr.
The newspaper headline which blared “Donaire delivers” the morning after was partly right.
Nonito indeed retained his World Boxing Association interim super flyweight championship.
But, just like in his previous fights, the victory again failed to confirm his stardom.
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It was not unlike delivering the Valentine rose to the wrong address.
Of course, it was not Donaire’s fault that he was fed a certified patsy for a last-minute opponent.
But the mismatch was so atrocious the commentators ended up lying to themselves in order to make it appear a legit main event.
One look at the dwarfish Manuel Vargas would bare the poor kid had no business being in the ring with Donaire at the Las Vegas Hilton.
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The promoters could’ve done better if they picked somebody worthier from the hotel kitchen, where there should be enough frustrated aspirant pugilists.
Yes, the show must go on.
But the comic result submitted by the straying Vargas should lead boxing commissions to make a thorough check of future last-minute main-event stand-ins.
Vargas may not have been qualified to fight in a curtain-raiser.
* * *
Well, he did manage to throw a few punches, before scurrying in the opening round.
But these were not only wild and hopeless.
If to a letter, his punches were being delivered to the wrong address.
The poor substitute was slamming his icy blows all the way from the North Pole.
Anyway, the best that happened was that, although the Donaire bout ended up a big joke, it did not finish like the nightmare suffered by the overhyped Ciso Morales.
Morales going deader than dead after a single blow to the body meant everyday can’t be Valentine’s Day.
