Boxing and Money Pakyaw

When I was in the grade school we had this neighbor who was already a good barber at age 14 named Manny. Manny was short and stocky and wanted so much to become a boxer. When he had no customer at his open barbershop under the mango tree, he would be hitting his punching bag and doing shadow boxing. He would give us, boys, free haircut on condition that we had to go into a round or two of boxing with him as referee. Inasmuch as he had no weighing scale the pairing of his fighters was made on the basis of the claimed ages, within a difference of 1 -2 years, regardless of the size and height of the contenders. As he had no kid gloves, he would just wrap securely the fists of his young boxers with his worn-out t-shirts. The pairs of boxers on line and the bystanders would form a circle around the fighters to serve as the boxing ring. The human boxing ring was mobile; it kept on moving away from a boxer who would back track unto it during the fight. We always looked forward with excitement to Saturday and Sunday afternoons where the scheduled fights were held on the grounds of his barbershop.

I was genetically smaller than anyone in my age group and was always naturally paired with bigger and taller opponents. But I developed a sort of strategy in overcoming my disadvantage and brought almost all of my opponents to the ground: At the start of the fight I would immediately rush like a flash of lightning to my opponent and pummeled him with head and body shots not-stop until he would drop to the ground or until the referee found it necessary to stop the fight. Of course after some time, my opponents recognized my trick and used it against me. But unlike them I refused to yield my ground and would engage any of them in an exchange of blows until exhaustion took its toll on the lesser mortal. Toe-in-toe in-fighting requires strong stomach and great stamina. I developed mine by running every time I was sent an errand to the market which was about a kilometer from our place. My younger but taller brother and I had also regularly sparred in the house sometime with our bare knuckles. After a while, we run out of opponents in the neighborhood; the barber-referee would be compelled to pit my brother against me in some Saturday or Sunday boxing afternoons. At times, the two of us went home with bloody noses or with a black eye.

That was how I was initiated into the art and science of boxing. The possible career in said sports never, however, had an opportunity to blossom. But the initiation has made me a boxing aficionado. I would never miss a Gabriel Flash Elorde fight in the radio. I followed on the boxing career of Cassius Clay, later re-named Mohammad Ali. I requested our professor in UP Los Banos to suspend our exam in a graduate course on the very hour of the Mohammad Ali-Joe Frazier “Thrilla in Manila” in 1975. She willingly obliged, and all of us in the examination room rushed to her apartment nearby to see the legendary heavyweight fight of all time. I loved the fights of Sugar Ray Leonard, Thomas Hearns, and Marvelous Marvin Hagler, three great clean fighters in the welterweight division in the 80s. But no Filipino boxer captured my interest after Flash Elorde until I saw Manny Pacquiao’s fights on TV.

I started watching Manny’s four-rounder encounters on TV recorded from those Tanduay Rum-sponsored afternoon fights in some street corners in Marikina and other places in Metro-Manila. Manny was lanky and probably weighed only a little over 100 lb when he first entered the ring as a prize fighter. Manny, despite his size, was an aggressive fighter who, like Mike Tyson, overwhelmed and put his opponents off balance with an endless barrage of brute punches. His obvious lack in boxing skill was compensated by an amazing inner power, speed, focus and determination to crush his opponent. Of course, power, speed, focus and determination alone would not make a sustainable champion. Manny’s rise continued but was held suspect by many for lack of boxing skills. When he met Freddie Roach his prospect for eternity started to unfold.

We found in Freddie and Manny the almost perfect model of a relationship between a great teacher and a very talented student who is very eager to learn. Manny’s speed and firepower have been equipped by Roach with a different fighting strategy for every different opponent in the ring. I watched at noontime today (Philippine Time) how Manny pulverized the vaunted power tank and ferocious natural welterweight warrior Miguel Cotto. Manny effectively put off the Puerto Rican’s fire just after the fourth round. It was to Cotto’s credit that he was still gallantly standing some seconds in the 12 rounds after receiving probably the greatest punishment in his profession. Manny’s demolition of Cotto obviously showed some variation in style and approach to what he did to de la Hoya, Diaz and Hatton.

So one by one, all the great legends in seven different weight divisions in boxing – flyweight (112 lb), super bantamweight (122 lb)), featherweight (126 lb), super flyweight (130), lightweight (135), light welterweight (140 lb), and welterweight (145lb), fell on the wayside struck by the lightning called Manny Pacquiao. Manny has not been called Pacman for any reason at all. He has gobbled his opponents like nobody’s business, as well as the megabucks in the boxing world unparalleled in the history of any sports. The Pacman may now also be called “Money Pakyaw” by the way he rakes millions of dollars into his coffer.