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Instead of jumping for joy for Pacquiao, I felt bad when I saw Erik Morales down on all fours. He is my idol. I even love his name. Only Michael Jordan, Hakeem Olajuwon, and, yes, the ear-biting Mike Tyson (if only he would have the opportunity to taste dinakdakan, it’s going to be love at first bite for him) would rank higher in my list of favorite athletes.
Pacman would be right up there on the list also for the thrilling fights he gives everytime. In regards to his boxing ability, for me, even Gerry Peñalosa is a far more technically-sound boxer. But it is like comparing Alvin Patrimonio to Samboy Lim. Summer basketball clinics can’t teach to kids what Samboy does inside the playing court. Just like Samboy, Pacman draws his appeal and popularity from his innate crowd-pleasing charisma. Samboy’s high leaping ability, ‘come what may’ aerobatics and his unassuming personality not only made him a much-loved player, it also forced him him into an early retirement from too much injuries. At the height of Samboy’s career, every time he touches the ball, everybody would scream expecting a spectacular play. Patrimonio was a great player but not as thrilling to watch as Samboy. Samboy drives hard first, and while in mid-air, plans on what to do next- but usually decides on an impossible shot. The most obvious similarity between Samboy and Pacman is that they both look awkward in their sport: The reason why Samboy is so accident prone is because he jumps and lands awkward, and almost always on the receiving end of a hard foul - The most horrifying was committed by Jojo Lastimosa. When they collided, Samboy was so high up, that when he spun out of control with his back parallel to the floor, he almost kicked the rim. Paramedics carried him out of the playing court on a stretcher.
The same case is true for Pacman. Whenever he delivers his straight left, he gives it all that he lunges forward awkwardly, momentarily losing balance, leaving him defenseless and vulnerable to counter-punches. But that’s exactly his bread and butter, he wouldn’t be the famous Pacman he is now of he is cautious.
Maybe the reason why I admire Morales is that he doesn’t look like an athlete to me…I don’t consider myself as an athletic type. Aside from being undeniably an “el terrible guapo”, he’s a lot like me in built – only thinner, especially during official weigh-ins (I’m 140+ lbs. and considered a skinny already by those who’ve known me and expect more because of my ability to consume much - they should see the eating champ, small and thin, Sonya Thomas beat her opponents 5 times her own size – how would I look 10 lbs. less?).
So, just like Pacman, who gives hope to every poor, but hardworking, Filipino youth who’d been enduring a life of hardship which, incidentally, made him emotionally and physically tough (like the part of a song that goes something like “ang kakisigan ko’y sumpa ng kahirapan”), Morales fuels the fantasy of guys, like me, who are beyond their youth, and whose underdeveloped torsos and prominent ribs, makes even undressing alone an embarrassingly difficult task.
Morales is like the Larry Bird of boxing. Larry Bird looks like a corporate guy -only taller. I think it’s his and Bill Laimbeer’s level of athleticism that the assumption “white man can’t jump” was based upon. I’m not saying Morales is not that athletic because it takes great athletic skill to deliver a counterpunch with great accuracy and power while twisting the body to avoid a lightning straight left. But like Larry Bird, Morales is an intelligent fighter.
There are so many young men around who’ve got what it takes to become good boxers, but in most cases, only the smart ones become champions. In one construction site alone there are plenty of contenders. I had a laborer nicknamed Dodong -from Pacland also -whom I played basketball with…and boy was he tough and his stamina was infinite. He had no excess fat and those six-pack (pandesal) of his I could punch all day and he’d probably feel nothing.
When I was a young boy in the province I had a distant cousin who boxed on the regional level. He’s a lot like Dodong in built. I don’t know what his real name was, but I remember everyone he knew calls him “Puraw” (white) because he’s Caucasian-like. I also remember he had a balikbayan sister, who was in her teens, from the
US . I was only 7 years old then, but I already could tell what is smoking hot, and she was a prime specimen. Her nickname was ‘Tililing’.
After a short stint at boxing, Puraw went to the States also. I remember his training time was at around 3pm, right after watching old Pilipino Movies on RPN 9. He would turn off the TV and let everyone out – only a few household had TV sets back then, which explains the neighbors gathered in and around his house. He trained in their living room and everyone who was there for the TV would now be peeping on the windows outside watching Puraw train.
I should look no farther. My late first cousin, Nicomedes, I don’t know why but, except for his relatives who calls him Medes, everyone calls him ‘Durang’, short for Durango. Though he goes by many nicknames, Durang was the most enduring.
Durang had well-defined muscles -all cuts. He used to challenge me to give my best shot in puching his pandesal. He had long limbs, which translates to long reach (an advantage in boxing), quick reflexes, and nothing much up there, inside the head –in short, an ideal boxer. I think he even looks like Diego Corrales. But sad to say, the closest thing he ever got involved in boxing was either in a neighborhood brawl or a rumble in the municipal plaza.
Durang always gets into fights. Sometimes his younger brother would help out if he’s outnumbered, more than he can handle. Durang’s appearance was deceptive, he was tall (6ft) and lanky, yet he was strong. He could take on 2 to 3 guys at the same time. I think he’s one of those who have a low level of serotonin: He wouldn’t jump off his seat if a tiger suddenly appeared and sit beside him.
There are times also that he would fight his brother. Once I saw them, to the delight of the neighbors watching, against each other and each had a weapon. Richard, his brother held a small club while Durang was waiving a long bamboo pole to keep the former at bay. Being who I was, when I saw them I immediately told our grandfather and when they went home, they had more of what they’ve given each other, this time from Lolo.
When Durang moved to
Manila to help out in our auntie’s household, he was not welcome in the neighborhood, at least not to those other young men who thought he’d pose a challenge to their dominance. And besides, anyone who doesn’t know him well would be pissed off at his attitude.
One day he went home bloodied from stab wounds.
Durang didn’t make it to the hospital.
