Those of you trying to digest your breakfast, lunch or dinner over the computer can relax.
Yes, it’s true that beloved Coach Freddie Roach is featured in an upcoming issue of Playboy.
Good news, yes, but the better news, at least for your digestive system, is that Roach is not the centerfold.
No Freddie in the buff, in the Boston birthday suit. From what I hear, and I know this may bother those millions of Pinay and other young hotties worldwide whose romantic dream is to take Our Coach to an unexplored territory known as marriage, Fredster keeps all his clothes on.
I’m sure fight fans will be enthralled with “Grey’s Anatomy” in the issue, meaning not the TV program but Sasha Grey from HBO’s “Entourage.”
See excellent Philstar Joaquin Henson story on Da Roach.
But I merely mention this in passing because my sermon of today is really directed at the Congressmanny.
Look, I know Pacman is a free spirit and all that but it’s time for him to hang up his basketball sneakers.
There’s too much riding on his Nov. 13 Cowboys Stadium fight against Antonio Margarito for too many people to take the risk of the star of the show twisting an ankle or suffering another kind of injury while hooping it up.
It used to be cute, Manny shooting baskets as a break from his boxing regimen, but now it’s just childish.
To his credit, Roach has laid down a one month ban but does that mean from now until Oct. 14 we all have to worry about some overager opponent “submarining” Pacquiao on the basketball floor at the Cooyesan Hotel in Baguio?
It’s tough to name a more dedicated, more responsible, more fully serious adult athlete who even compares to the Pinoy Idol.
But somebody–hello, Bob Arum–should put their foot down on basketball while training for a fight before somebody accidentally puts their foot or feet down on Manny’s and we wind up with a postponed or canceled event.
End of sermon.
Manny’s “Hoop Dreams” are giving me nightmares.
I know basektball.
I grew up peddling popcorn at the Boston Celtics game at the fabled, old Boston Garden where the biggest rat in the decrepit building was so big yoou could’ve put a saddle on him and rode him at the nearby Suffolk Downs Racetrack. (Boston Globe’s inimitable Bud Collins named the rangy rodent “King Rat.)
At Fordham Law School, I had my own intramural team, “Marley’s Madcaps” and we all specialized in giving fouls.
We took more swan dives on the hardwood than Vlade Divac.
Besides, I am one of those white men who really can’t jump although I often leap to conclusions.
Now I’ve got to check out those rumors of Antonio Margarito playing ice hockey outside the sight of stern trainer Robert Garcia.
Word around the rink has it Tone Loc was in the nets, wearing a full goalkeeper’s mask.
And, I hear, shots were fired.
Come to think of it, maybe “Grandpa” Garcia authorized this, lol.
