IT WAS with a huge sense of relief that I greeted last Sunday afternoon. I didn’t know how much more of the ads I could take about Manny Pacquiao’s impending fight with Erik Morales. Every time I watched the NBA on Solar Sports, I would be deluged by them. Some were completely silly — “a warrior (Morales) ranged against a united nation,” or words to that effect — which made you want to say, “Ang dami naman kaaway ni Morales, isa-isa lang.” The others went full throttle in heroic mode: “His shoulders carry the hope of millions.” Last I looked, it was a boxing bout and not a rescue mission to save those trapped in a hurricane.
But it had, in fact, turned out that way. The match had taken on the aspect of life and death, of the very survival of the nation. My heart went out to the guy, I refused to imagine what would happen if he lost a second time to Morales. It wasn’t just the chance for Mike Arroyo, Mikey Arroyo, Prospero Nograles, Chavit Singson et al. to bask in his glory that was at stake, it was the chance for ordinary folk to feel good about themselves and the world that was so. The common man’s levels of identification with Pacquiao were staggering. It wasn’t just Pacquiao that stood to taste the canvas if it had happened, it was an entire people.
I caught a glimpse of that when I came home shortly before the fight and found the streets absolutely desolate even for a Sunday afternoon. When I got home, a throng had gathered along the length of the stores in our housing project, watching the TV sets with expressions not unlike anticipating a moment of deliverance or a beheading. When the fight began, the collective groans and shouts of jubilation rocked our buildings. Mine was one of those voices that produced that booming chorus.
I rejoice with other Filipinos over Pacquiao’s feat, delivered not just at a timely moment in our lives when we need heroes but exceptionally masterfully. This one is easily Pacquiao’s best fight, even better than his demolition of now reigning super-featherweight champion Marco Antonio Barrera some years ago. This one will join the annals of boxing as a classic, along with “Thrilla in Manila” and “Rumble in the Jungle,” if only among us Filipinos. This wasn’t a fight between a slugger and a boxer the way the first match between Pacquiao and Morales went, this was a fight between two boxers at the top of their game. It’s always unfortunate that someone has to lose in a match like this, but boy am I glad it wasn’t Pacquiao.
The fight commentators would say the one thing Pacquiao did right this time was to stay in the center of the ring rather than on the ropes. They’re right of course. But where I sat, the one thing he did right this time — which should serve as a signal lesson for this country — was that he prepared for the long haul. He did not go into the ring expecting to do quick work, a knockout in the early going, as he seems to have done 10 months ago. He went into the ring expecting a long-drawn war, and prepared for it. He got the war, and won it brilliantly. He was patient all the way, though he boxed relentlessly, and the patience paid off. In boxing, as in anything worth doing, there are few short cuts, there are few easy paths.
Sunday was a day to make you proud to be Filipino. But it had a horrendously bitter aftertaste, which was Mike Arroyo and Chavit Singson climbing into the ring to whoop it up with the victor. Batas Mauricio is the source of the text that swiftly went around the capital suggesting what the public thought about that scene. Someone who bought a ticket to a cinema to see the fight sent him a text message to say (translating it into regular English): “We watched Pacquiao KO Morales in 10 rounds at Rockwell. It was a great fight. We were all happy, and for a while we forgot our problems with GMA [Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo] and her corrupt government. But after the fight whom would you see but Mike Arroyo embracing Pacquiao. The audience in the movie house booed loudly. Even if we won and are happy, we haven’t forgotten their corruption.”
Arroyo and company being there was in fact a rude reminder of it. It was like waking up from a dream to a living nightmare. What their contribution was to Pacquiao’s victory only they can say. They didn’t train, they didn’t sweat, they didn’t taste leather. All they did was fly to Las Vegas and place bets. Of course, they will say they used their own money, but that money used to be the taxpayers before they made it their own. I do not recall that they blamed themselves for Pacquiao’s loss the last time he fought Morales, or had their photos taken with him in a show of profound commiseration. As to their prayers doing wonders, one would imagine the government officials of Mexico also know how to pray, as indeed Morales himself. Why God should particularly want to listen to them rather than to Morales’ camp, well, they must have different Gods.
For all Alaxan’s relentless pummeling of the viewer with its ads, it at least took a risk with Pacquiao. It put its money where its mouth was. Had Pacquiao lost, all those ads would be worthless. It deserves all the rewards it gets from his victory.
As for the Filipino officials who crowded at ringside, all they deserve is what they got from the fans at Rockwell. While at that, I don’t know that there were any Mexican officials in the same rows with them. For most other countries, including the poorer ones like Mexico, boxing is a source of national pride but it is not something one puts in the taxpayers’ tab in aid of legislation.
Pacquiao completely dazzlingly, furiously and honestly did his job and made us proud. Tell us, lady and gentlemen:
When will you do yours?
