(Photo: Granville Ampong)

YouTube is one of mankind’s greatest inventions. According to Wikipedia: “In May 2010, it was reported that YouTube was serving more than two billion videos a day…”

One of those two billion videos I watched at 6 p.m. yesterday. It was a 13:23-minute clip and three men—Bob Arum, Antonio Margarito and Manny Pacquiao—spoke during the press conference two days ago in Los Angeles. What did I see?

Bob Arum, today’s Don King minus the standing hair, spoke first. He talked of injustice. He articulated how Mr. Margarito was denied justice in Las Vegas, disallowing him to fight in the “Sin City.”

Antonio Margarito stood up next. Donning a shiny black leather jacket and wearing eyeglasses that made him look like a UCLA student with spiky hair, “Tijuana’s Tornado” spoke in his native Mexican language.

Then, Bob Arum came back on stage to introduce the beloved superstar. Said Arum: “He’s now the Congressman from Sarangani… to the best of my knowledge, he’s the first professional boxer, while he is pursuing his boxing career, to be a representative of the highest parliamentary body in his country… that is a real tremendous achievement.. and he’s just starting because… in 2016, he’s going to be Vice-President and, hopefully, while I’m still around, we’re going to the Presidential Inaugural!”

Sporting a yellow Abercrombie & Fitch shirt and wearing his usual mustache and goatie, P-Manny rose from his chair and alighted the pulpit. Camera bulbs flashed. Hands collided. Applause reverberated throughout LA.

Rep. Emmanuel Pacquiao spoke. His English, despite his hurried training in the halls of the Batasang Pambansa, sounded crooked. But never mind. Because when Manny talks, his facial expression does the talking. He smiled.

“Good afternoon, everybody. Thank you. I’m here again! (smiling)”

For doesn’t Manny love to smile? And, when he does, don’t we return the favor and smile, watching our greatest-ever athlete enjoy himself on center-stage?

For that’s the originality of Pacman. While the Tysons, the Mayweathers, the Hattons wear the ugliest of frowns during press gatherings—as if there was a “Who Can Frown Best Wins” contest—with our fighter, it’s the opposite.

Manny grins. His face is no boxer’s pugilist face that will scare your 5-year-old boy. He’s the most relaxed, casual and laid-back man in this sport that demands fighters not to be relaxed, not to be casual and never to be laid-back.

Boxing is tough. It’s the most brutal and merciless of games. Blood gushing off one’s nostrils is a guarantee. So are swollen knuckles and broken ribs. Yet Manny makes it all look so easy. Effortless. As if earning $10 million on 30 minutes on the boxing ring were no sweat. (In his actual eight-week-long training camp, however, we know the reality: many would get killed following his work ethic and bruising regimen.)

With the press-conference, it was a feel-good story. Again, so unlike-boxing. Even Margarito, seated to Manny’s left while our boxer spoke, was seen amused and smiling as his enemy spoke.

And you want to hear the best part? To greet the Mexican crowd—plus Margarito, our fellow Pinoy spoke Mexican. No kidding. Though I couldn’t decipher what he said, it was amazing to hear Manny recite several words in his opponent’s native tongue.

Manny praised Antonio. He called his challenger’s fighting style “very aggressive.” He said he’s “strong and bigger than me.”

Was this a beauty pageant? A Mr. Universe contest to see who’s the kindest on-stage? No. It was Manny as Manny. That’s who he is.

Finally, the two stood up, holding the golden belt, and faced the cameras. It was a marvelous sight watching a 160-plus-pound behemoth of a man who stands an inch short of 6-foot-tall beside a baby-faced Asian who used to fight 105 lbs. But, as we know from one of the bible’s most famous clashes, the smaller yet more cunning fighter catapulted his weapon to obliterate the giant. Let’s hope for the same on Nov. 13.

Let’s admit it. Floyd Mayweather, Jr. was outstanding. As much as 100 percent of us Filipinos hate his mouth and detest his ego, on the ring, he’s sensational. During those 180 seconds during Round 2, didn’t we all jump in excitement, shout, pray, and wish that Shane Mosley would finish him off? Yes we did. But, shock of shocks, Sugar turned old and stodgy one minute later in Round 3 while Floyd, usually a defensive expert, turned into an offensive generator. Mosley owned a small window of opportunity—which was promptly slammed close by Mayweather.

Stamina? Well, what can you expect from a 38-year-old? Starting the fifth round, Shane’s face was empty. His tongue wagged. He was tired while Floyd, in between rounds, never looked fatigued. Floyd’s endurance can be likened to someone you and I share the same color skin with: Manny Pacquiao.

Which brings me to The Fight. Can you imagine Pacquiao vs. Mayweather? Two of the fastest athletes facing nobody else but each other’s speed inside the 18’ x 18’ stage. They’re swift, snappy and fire quadruple combinations in rapid-fire sequence. Ever seen Manny fatigued in Round 12? Same with Floyd, right?

“Forget world peace, the world needs Mayweather-Pacquiao,” one columnist, Mark Whicker, titled his story. True. This is a marriage that Americans and Asians want, that boxers and non-boxing fans salivate at watching; it’s a 36-minute encounter that would boost Money’s income by least $25 million and Manny’s by over one billion pesos.

Which is why it’s not going to happen. In the same way that some candidates, however qualified and best suited, will not win this Monday’s elections. That’s how the world operates. Life’s unfair. Not everything we wish, we get. And this is one wish we won’t get.

The reason? Pride.

“Pride,” said the poet John Ruskin, “is at the bottom of all great mistakes.”

Pacquiao won’t agree because, he says, blood will sap him of energy when, in fact, it’s just a little needle and small volume that they’ll extract. Floyd’s asking for “14 days before the fight” for his blood test while Manny’s OK with 24. This means that only 10 days separate a “Yes” from a “No.” That’s pride.

Worse, Mayweather, without question the most boastful human being in this universe today, wants everybody to bend to everything that he wishes. He doesn’t think he’s Muhammad Ali; he believes he’s boxing’s God. That’s pride.

“This is not bragging or boasting,” said Mayweather in the press conference shortly after the fight (yeah right!), “but with or without Pacquiao, Floyd is going to be able to go out and make $20 million or $30 million a night. With or without him, I’m still able to do that.

“I don’t think about no Pacquiao. I’m a boss, I only talk to bosses. He’s got to do numbers like I’m doing. What did him and Marquez do, 300,000, 400,000? Congratulations. Got to step his game up. Got to step his game up. Got to step his pay-per-view numbers up. I average 1.3 million, with ease.”

Pina ka hambog na tao sa tibuok kalibutan.

So, what complicates matters now is not only blood-testing but money. After his victory 48 hours ago, do you think Mayweather will settle for a 50-50 share, like he originally did months ago? No way. Money wanting more money is what Money wants.

Back to our own Manny and the blood-testing issue, here’s what I would advise our man: Agree to 14 days. We know, Freddie Roach knows, and Buboy Fernandez is certain that Manny does no drugs. Then, what’s the scare? Pride? Well, this pride is expensive at P1,000,000,000. From now until November—the month when Bob Arum wants the fight—Manny can simulate this blood-testing procedure and know that it won’t debilitate or weaken his body.

Then he beats Mayweather! Because Floyd, for all his defensive prowess and ability to adjust, is beatable by Man. For Floyd doesn’t possess Manny’s power. Quickness, yes, they two are the same, but power, I’d tip the favor to Manny.

So, there. The enemies: Cash, blood, pride.

“And after several months of staying away from home, a proud Filipino nation, the Cebuano community in particular, welcomes back its beloved son, who has since become a symbolic figure of true courage, immeasurable fighting spirit and strong faith in God…

“He may no longer have the physical capacity to achieve his dream, but Gorres can consider himself greater than a world champion for winning the biggest fight of his life.”

Zeta Celestino Gorres arrived home two days ago. At the Patio Isabel luncheon hosted by Antonio L. Aldeguer, the sports mediamen had an up-close look at the boxer nicknamed “Buchoy.”

How does he look? Can he talk? Move? He looks phenomenal. I gripped his right hand. He didn’t just shake hands with me. He gripped it right back. Firm. Tight. A powerful, forceful grip we engaged in for a few seconds.

Z with Edito Villamor (left) and Jun Migallen; standing: John P., Mike Limpag and Edri Aznar

Talk? Yes, he can. In fact, Z has become funny. Very funny. When one of his lady friends asked whether he still remembers her, he paused for a few moments as everyone awaited and, in all seriousness, said, “Wala ko kaila nimo kay ni-gwapa ka (I didn’t recognize you because you became prettier).”

The girl laughed. I did. So did the others. Z smiled.

Z smiles. When he saw his children, he smiled. When he thanked the Aldeguers and the man who took care of him in Las Vegas and accompanied him all the way to our land, Dr. Ben Calderon, he smiled. When he was met at the airport by dozens and hundreds of fans and friends and fellow fighters, he smiled.

Z cried. For he was not a world champion. He won’t be; he’ll never be when he fell to the floor that Friday November the 13th evening. He did not bring home to Mandaue the gift the city awaited: a glittering boxing belt.

But he did more. Much more. For who, but a returning and healthy Z Gorres, could have commanded a convoy of more than 50 vehicles that greeted him at the airport and paraded the streets of Lapu-Lapu and Mandaue and Cebu?

Not MP. “Even Pacquiao did not attract that many cars who joined the welcome,” said Manny Villaruel, who was one of the many who trooped to the Mactan airport.

Z is no world champion. But he did more.

“Pa,” he told Antonio Lopez Aldeguer upon his return. “I’m sorry na dili ko ma world champ,” he said, calling Mr. Aldeguer “Pa,” having grown-up in the Aldeguer household and become like a younger brother to Chris, Michael and Jay. “You’re more than a champion,” ALA whispered to him. “You have touched people’s lives.”

Perfectly-said. For isn’t touching people’s lives our ultimate life goal? Isn’t it far nobler an achievement that just being one of boxing’s top-ranked?

Z’s last 90 days have grabbed more attention than almost any other in the boxing community. In Las Vegas, says Dr. Ben Calderon, these past three months have seen a multitude of articles devoted to Z’s condition and his fight for life. “The morning we left for the Philippines,” said top Internist in Nevada, “there was a story on the Las Vegas newspaper about Z.”

The story of Z has inspired the world’s boxing capital to finally enact a bill to help boxers. “Imagine, the medical expenses of Z amounted to over $500,000 and the insurance was only $50,000?” said Michael Aldeguer. “Because of the proposed ‘Z Gorres Bill,’ the insurance, for major and world title fights, will possibly be increased to $1,000,000.”

Thanks to Z. Thanks to his near-death experience. Thanks to his new life. Welcome home, Buchoy.

The long-awaited return of our Cebuano hero? It’s late February or early March.

“Miracle,” added Michael. “It was a miracle. I was there all the time. It was one of the most severe cases they ever had, said the doctors. I couldn’t forget this because I slept at the hospital when all this happened. And you know that the doctors opened him up without delay. It was scary. It came to a point when the doctor told me, ‘We did what we had to do. But we’re not sure if he can make it.’ In fact, not many do make it. To me, I couldn’t imagine what would have happened.

“But something good is happening with the unfortunate case of Z. Because we met Frank Slaughter, who is a retired fighter and he’s with a nonprofit boxing organization. He’s talking to the Nevada authorities with the hope that a new state bill will raise the insurance amount of $50,000. That amount is too small.”

The total bill for Z? Just with the University Medical Center (UMC) hospital?

It’s 550,000. Pesos? I asked Mike. “Dollars,” he said. That’s $550,000 or over P26,000,000. “And that’s just for the UMC hospital. That excludes the expenses for the rehab in the U.S. and the rehab when Z’s back to Cebu which might take between six months to one year,” said Michael.

“Good thing plenty are helping. There’s Frank Slaughter, there’s Dr. Ben Calderon, Tony Martin and his wife, Yvonne, and so many more. A group from the U.S. has also launched a website that accepts donations for Z. This site is www.ZGorres.info. We will also soon, here in the Philippines, provide everyone with Z’s account number so donations can be sent straight to their family’s account.”

“Also, Manny Pacquiao has communicated with us and is looking at a mid-February target for a benefit dinner,” he said. “According to interviews, Manny hopes to raise $500,000 in that charity dinner for Z. That would be a great, great help. Right now, with the $550,000 amount, we’re working with Top Rank to pay that off… they have the means. We’re also talking with the insurance companies. We have to come up with something. What’s good is this incident has caused massive awareness, especially in Nevada, where they hold fights every week.”

Mr. Aldeguer then e-mailed me an article published in the state’s top newspaper, Las Vegas Review-Journal, with a full-length story on Z’s catastrophe and his problem with paying the medical bills.

“People have taken notice. The UMC Hospital CEO has spoken. Same with the Nevada State chairman. Boxing promoters make a lot of money and they have to ensure that boxers are well taken-cared of. Many people only see the good side of boxing… but it’s a brutal sport,” said Mike.

“This is our quest now. To help push for this bill. This will be good for the sport. This will be good for the boxers. Because what happened to Z will happen again.

“Even around Asia, where there are plenty of irresponsible fighters, there is awareness now after the scare with Z. Some fighters from Thailand or Indonesia get involved in mismatches. These are very scary. Now, some boxing commissions are getting stricter; they’re reviewing thoroughly the sanctioning of fights. They’re also ensuring that fighters are medically-prepared before they fight. This is the good that has come out of the bad. God has a purpose for Z.”

Visit ZGorres.info.

That was then. Today, we know Z is in stable condition. Yesterday morning, I spoke to Antonio Lopez Aldeguer. “Z is progressing rapidly. Remarkably well,” said Aldeguer. “Michael (ALA’s son) is monitoring him day to day. To summarize his recovery in one word, it’s remarkable.”

ALA knew about Z’s collapse seconds after it happened. “Michael called me right away. At first, we thought it was over-fatigue. It wasn’t the case. I knew it was worse when he was in the Coma Center. I was very, very worried. As you know, I’ve had lots of incidents in the past. From other boxers. What gave me confidence was that Z was in the hospital’s trauma center that is one of the best in the world. And the physician operating on Z was a top surgeon. As you know, Las Vegas has probably, in the whole America, the highest rate of coma incidents.”

Did the thought of Z possibly not making it enter your mind? “Not even for a moment. I did not entertain the idea. Maybe because of my strong faith in God. But what came into mind what was, ‘What am I supposed to do? Should I quit boxing?’ And those thoughts have come to mind several times in the past… When Z lost a bad decision before, in our own backyard. When Boom-Boom was knocked-out in the first round. When Banal quit when he was way ahead. And now, this, to Z.

“But what strengthened me was when I realized, ‘If I quit, it’s because the reason is selfish. I’m thinking only of my sentiments. That I’d be relieved of my responsibilities, of the stress, of losing money, that all this doesn’t pay off.’ But then I asked myself, What is all this for? I know I love boxing. And when I weighed things, I knew the answer was no. I couldn’t quit. How about boxers who’ll come to me and ask, ‘How about us, sir? What will happen to our dreams?’

“I also never doubted God’s grace. The outpouring of sentiments was amazing. We never expected it to be this way. We were getting a lot of sympathies and consoling words from so many people. The one factor that sustained us all, that sustained Z, was the millions who prayed for him. Even the doctor said it was miraculous. For most people, it may take months to respond. For Z, it was days.

“We all gathered in Sto. Niño Church that Saturday afternoon when Z was in critical condition. The boxers, the employees. We were surprised to find a TV crew there; I don’t know how they knew. We prayed. The next day, Z’s wife, Datches, and the others went to Simala. Everybody prayed. The nation prayed. Then, last Tuesday, we had a Thanksgiving mass because at that stage we knew Z was removed from serious condition.”

Z started with ALA when he was only nine. “His elder brother, Jun, was already with me as a boxer. And so it was natural for Z to follow. Z stayed with us in our home in Ma. Luisa. He grew up with us while studying in Banilad Elem. School, in UV Mandaue and for college in UV,” he said.

“Every boxer, athlete, has tantrums. There are times when mang luod-luod. When a boxer is reducing his weight, he’s not eating normally and it upsets his mood. But, in all of my years of training, I have never seen Gorres get mad. Not even once. He’s always smiling.

“Also, his character. To me, in my dealings with people, if I hear someone talk bad about another, I lose respect for that person. With Z, I never heard him say anything bad about anyone. He is good, kind, gentle. He’s quiet. Respectful. And you should see his children and wife… they’re all well-dressed, clean. Z is one of a kind. And so, whenever I get asked about Z, I don’t emphasize on his boxing. There are plenty of good boxers. I emphasize on Z as a good person.”

He wore red, high-cut boots by Nike with the words “PACQUIAO” and “MANNY” etched at the back. His black shorts were printed with yellow flames. A gray sleeveless Nike shirt covered his chest while a green pair of gloves wrapped his hands.

Last Wednesday at 2:30 p.m., accompanied by the country’s top boxing writer—Salven Lagumbay of philboxing.com and the Philippine Daily Inquirer—I stepped inside RP’s most famous gym today, owned by Rex “Wakee” Salud.

Manny Pacquiao had just finished 10 rounds of sparring. Tired? Did he look fatigued? No. How about recharged? Or pumped-up? For one-and-a-half hours, I observed Manny. After sparring, Manny stepped down the ring then proceeded to pummel the double-end bag. He stared at the round leather that hung from the ceiling, encircled it, threw quick jabs, moved his head left, ducked, stepped back, forward.

The double-end bag? To Manny, that bag symbolized the head of Marco Antonio Barrera. His eyes were locked at it, so focused his concentration that he savored every moment barreling the face.

Gerry Penalosa watched. So did his brother, the former champ Dodie Boy, who’s assisting the training. Jimrex Jaca was there. So were Jing-Jing and George Rama, close friends of Manny.

Freddie Roach, of course, supervised the session. With him was Buboy Fernandez, Manny’s long-time trainer. They both clutched stopwatches that hung from their necks. After the double-end bag, Manny bent down to stretch. Buboy wrapped a towel around his fighter then wiped the flowing sweat. Buboy then held Manny’s arms then shook them to stretch the muscles. It was a routine, I’m sure, that they’ve practiced for many Septembers.

The speed ball came next. Manny stepped on a platform then swayed as his hands juggled against the ball. Next, he jump-roped. This was the moment I cherished most: brothers Manny and Bobby Pacquiao, training alongside each other, just three feet apart facing the mirror while jumping rope.

“Bai,” I told Salven, “how I wish I can take that photo.” He nodded. Too bad Freddie Roach has curtailed picture-taking—and rightfully so—as these “shots” might be video footages that can be relayed to the Mexican enemy.

Remember Bruce Lee? Remember how his hands flew off his arms in a flurry of punches? I saw Manny do a Bruce Lee. Alone on the ring, with nothing but air and his mental picture of Barrera fronting him, he shadow-boxed. In seconds, Manny unleashed a barrage of punches—BANG! BANG! BANG karate chops—that had Team Pacman smiling.

Buboy Fernandez then placed a one-foot-tall wooden stand at the center. Manny jumped on it one leg at a time—for countless minutes.

The next part, to me, was the most punishing: 1,000 crunches and sit-ups. What a sight. Manny in the middle of the ring, lifting both legs up, pulling his head to touch the knees. He’d do one set, then another—30 minutes of abdominals to harden his stomach like cement.

A boxer seated beside Salven and I commented, “Daghan mo sabay ni Manny sa training… ma hilantan.” (Many boxers would train alongside Manny and follow his routine… they’d all get sick.)

It’s true. Nobody trains like MP. His routine is intense, serious, all-out, focused. Manny is pushed by Freddie and Buboy—but he pushes himself beyond.

Finally, when the clock read “4:30,” the session ended. The 42-inch Samsung LCD screen hung by Wakee Salud beside the ring was switched on. “Pacquaio vs. Morales Part III” was shown. Manny watched for a few minutes before exiting to shower and eat.

The rest of us? We finished gazing at the three-round KO victory. We sat amazed. Then we nodded our heads. We understood. We knew why he’s the world’s top pound-for-pound boxer.

You see, boxing isn’t won on the ring. It’s not won on October 6. It’s won during the months and weeks of molding and sculpting during training. During the 10 rounds of sparring each session. The kilometers of climbing up Alta Vista. The 1,000 sit-ups. Speed bags. Jump-ropes. Double-end bags. The karate punches that would frighten even Bruce Lee.

Freddie with Atty. Jingo Quijano

The Phil Jackson of boxing, the three-time Trainer of the Year who’s trained Mike Tyson, Bernard Hopkins, Gerry Peñalosa and actor Mickey Rourke, is “pissed.” They treat me, he says, like “sh*#.”

His nickname, interestingly, is “Choir Boy” and, since he’s done a duet with the Greatest Filipino Sportsman Of All Time, they’ve produced perfect music together. Diaz. Marquez. Barrera. De La Hoya. Morales. Hatton. Name it, the Pacquaio-Roach one-two duet today is like the Phil Jackson-Michael Jordan duo of the 1990s.

Unfortunately, today, Coach Roach is mad. He’s irritated. The reason? His prized singer has yet to decide—just 75 days before Nov. 14—where to train his brutal cords.

“’I talked to Mike Koncz yesterday,’” said Roach in the Phil. Star story, “Roach sounds alarm – Pacman busy in showbiz,” dated Aug. 30, “and I said, ‘Where are we going to train?’ He said, ‘I haven’t asked Manny yet.’ I said ‘you haven’t asked Manny yet? What do you mean you haven’t asked Manny yet.’”

Roach, 49, normally soft-spoken, screamed, “‘What the hell? You’re scared to ask Manny?’”

Uh, oh. Franklin Gacal, Manny’s lawyer, in the same article, said: “’It’s not only Freddie who’s trying to get it (training) started but us, too. But Manny’s too busy finishing his movie. We, including Mike, never fail to remind him of his commitments on and off the ring,’ said Gacal. ‘But he’s the boss. He makes the decisions. You know Manny. Freddie knows Manny.”

The Boss. Yes. We all know. Manny, like his top benefactor Danding Cojuangco, is The Boss. Still, if you’re Coach Roach, won’t you be enraged? And doesn’t this “When will training start?” question come up each time Pacman fights?

With Cebu City Councilor Yayoy Alcoseba

It does. Now, the past few fights have been unproblematic. Manny has trained at the Wild Card Gym in Los Angeles. Only now, there’s a complication: Pacman is forced to seek another country to train at owing an Internal Revenue Service provision stating that, if violated, Manny will pay millions in taxes to the U.S. gov’t.

Where does Manny want to train for five weeks prior to L.A.? The City of Pines. Of Baguio, “I think its too many distractions for him,” said his trainer in Fighthype.com (Nick Sanchez’s piece, “Freddie Roach: I Hope That Manny And His Crew Wake Up”). He adds: “This is the toughest fight of his life. Cotto’s a big 147-pounder, strong guy, beat Shane Mosley, a speed guy like Manny; he nullified Shane’s speed with his own speed. People tell me he’s slow, but I disagree. He’s a tough, tough fight for us. I hope that Manny and his crew wake up and smell the coffee and get to work on picking a place so we can go to camp as soon as possible.”

Roach is concerned. He remembers training in Cebu for Marco Antonio Barrera. If you recall, it was exactly two years ago when Manny trained at the Wakee Salud Gym in Labangon.

Was he distracted here? Sure. We sportswriters played basketball with him every Sunday. He’d hop on a plane and jet to Manila on some weekends. His buddies Dennis Padilla and Long Mejia spent weeks here doing we-don’t-know-what-comedy. And rumors circulated that Manny, staying at the Waterfront Cebu City Hotel and Casino, would stay up past midnight to roll the….

True or not, what’s true is this: His focus, while on RP soil, is not 111 percent.

“The Governor,” added Roach, without naming names (though it’s obvious it’s not Gov. Gwen but someone named Chavit), “might fly him out during the weekends.” Is that a certainty? Certainly.

So, where does Roach prefer to train? In Mexico. “It’s a training camp. It’s a business. That’s why you’re there. We don’t need vacation areas with tourists watching us and so forth.. it’s a beautiful gym. They have a beautiful facility up there owned by the gov’t. It’s well-protected and a 5-star hotel is 20 mins. away from the gym. Everything is right there. They have unbelievable hills; they go from 10,000 to 14,000 feet above sea level. I’m not a big altitude guy on altitude training but I’m used to seclusion and getting your mind on the fight is what I want and I don’t think he can do that in the Phils.”

I agree.

MP (center) with, from left, Jun Migallen, Girlie Garces, John Pages, Gerry Peñalosa, Michael Aldeguer, Jingo Quijano and Raffy Osumo during the Cebu Sports Awards

Speed. Power. Stamina. Muscle. A 60-day-long training regimen that’s unmatched in boxing. A Hall of Fame coaching wonk named Freddie Roach. These components, plus more, are essential in making our RP hero the boxing world’s No. 1. But, to me, what is the most significant reason why Pacman will knockout Hitman today?

His belief. His conviction. His assuredness. His confidence. You see, while boxing is humankind’s bloodiest entertainment, while one employs two fists to wallop and thump and slaughter one enemy, while boxing is the most physical of all physical endeavors—here’s the untold secret: It’s not about the muscle. It’s about the mind.

Boxing is mental. It’s a face-to-face battle between one brain versus another. It’s a mental warfare to determine who, psychologically, is strongest. And, when we speak of who has a mind that is most determined, most omnipotent, most durable and most resolute, the answer comes in two initials: MP. Mind Power. Manny Pacquiao.

Remember last December 6? Remember when 20 of the world’s top boxing experts were asked their opinions before the fight and 18 said that Oscar De La Hoya would massacre Pacquiao? They underestimated MP’s MP.

Remember his first fight against Marco Antonio Barrera? In November of 2003? When nobody had heard of Pacman while his opponent was a many-time world champion? And one of Mexico’s greatest? And how, in that 11th round stoppage, the Filipino and boxing populace was in disbelief at the GenSan native? We underestimated MP’s MP.

For here’s my conclusion: The more physical and muscular sport has become this 21st century, the more essential the strength of mind. Apart from MP, who else, in today’s athletic field, do I consider having the strongest MP, mind power?

Tiger Woods and Rafael Nadal.

Consider that when Tiger Woods is leading (or has a share of the lead) going into the final round of a major, he is undefeated. While many golfers would be sleepless and jittery the night before possibly winning a Grand Slam event, Tiger Woods is unruffled, undisturbed, unflappable. In major tournaments, he’s 14 for 14 wins wearing that red T-shirt on that final day.

He has MP. Mind Power. Like our own MP.

Rafael Nadal? On the surface where the ATP players are now playing on, the clay-court? He is invincible, unconquerable, unsurpassable. Since 2005, when he started playing at the French Open (one of tennis’ four Grand Slam events), he has not lost. Not one match. Seven matches multiplied by four years equals 28 victories. And no losses. RN has MP.

Because as muscular as Tiger Woods is among the beer-belly-looking golfers (he is, by far, the most athletic) and as Herculean and brawny Rafael Nadal looks on that tennis court, it’s not the external physique that makes them No. 1 both in golf and tennis.

It’s MP. Mind Power. Just like MP. Manny Pacquiao.

Which makes all of this not a coincidence when, just a few days ago, Time magazine released it’s annual “Time 100” issue chronicling “The World’s Most Influential People.”

As expected, on the list are famous names like world leaders Gordon Brown, Nicolas Sarkozy, Angela Merkel and, of course, Barack Obama. Actors Tom Hanks, Penelope Cruz, George Clooney and, surprisingly, Zac Efron, are included. There’s amazon.com founder Jeff Bezos, pastor Rick Warren and, sure enough, Oprah Winfrey.

How about sports? Only three athletes, out of the list of 100, are included.

This trio is similar in many aspects. They’re world  No. 1s in their respective games. They sport win-loss records that make them seem almost unbeatable. Numerous world titles and Grand Slam trophies adorn their palatial homes. Most of all, they are bound by a willpower so strong, a mind so stable, a resolve to win that is relentless, a toughness of the brain tissue that is sturdy, firm, and tenacious.

Tiger Woods is on that Time 100 list. So is Rafael Nadal. The third member?

Our hearts, prayers and country’s hopes reside on his boxing gloves today.

Part 1

Click here to view the embedded video.

Part 2

Click here to view the embedded video.

Part 3

Chris, you see, has witnessed a torrent of fights, both inside their Talamban-based ALA Gym and at the glittering City of Las Vegas—including two of the grandest blockbusters in history: the Floyd Mayweather, Jr. vs. Oscar de la Hoya 2007 tussle and, just last December 6, Manny Pacquiao’s demolition job on the recently-retired ODLH.

Last Sunday morning, as part of his birthday celebration the night before, Chris watched “The Flash and The Furious” at the Araneta Coliseum. With his “best fight I’ve seen” comment, the young Mr. Aldeguer, of course, was referring to the Brian Viloria against Ulises Solis hostility.

What a quarrel! While we all thought Brian Viloria was a “has-been,” a fighter who didn’t possess even 1/14th of Manny Pacquiao’s bravery, what we saw two afternoons ago was startling.

You heard of Susan Boyle, the Scottish singer in Britain’s Got Talent who bowled over the entire world with her rendition of “I Dreamed a Dream?” You saw her video, right? (If you haven’t, with nearly 60 million YouTube hits, you must.)

Brian Viloria is Susan Boyle. While we pooh-poohed and ridiculed his fighting spirit before, he stunned and stupefied our eyes. For here was The Hawaiian Punch, right at the onset of Round 1, who poured his enemy Filipino punch after Hawaiian punch and pelted him punch after punch. He was the assailant, the invader, the attacker.

Yes, Chris was right—never mind if our GMA-7 telecast was three hours delayed with painstakingly-long commercials (“You know… you know… Oh, now you know!”)— what a combat. What a brawl. What an altercation. And, did not the contest end perfectly, in the second-to-the-last round, with Viloria walloping an all-out, full-force tennis forehand to Solis’ forehead?

As Philboxing.com writer Rene Bonsubre, Jr. aptly titled his article yesterday, here’s… A Toast To The Hawaiian Punch.

THE FLASH. Let me make an admission: The very first time I met Nonito Donaire, Jr. was in November of 2007 when my college buddy (and fellow columnist and Philboxing.com administrator) Salven Lagumbay invited him for dinner at our restaurant, Mooon Cafe in Guadalupe.

Nonito Donaire, Jr. and Sr. with Salven Lagumbay

Boxer? Was this lanky, scrawny and rawboned man, whose looks and attire made him look more like Fil-Am rapper/singer JR—was he a pugilist, a fighter?

I had my doubts. And, when his mouth opened and he spoke with such cordiality and American slang, my doubt quadrupled. There’s no way this gentleman earns tens of thousands of dollars by bloodying people’s noses! I told myself.

Fast forward to last February during the 27th SAC-SMC Cebu Sports Awards where Mr. Donaire was our special guest of honor at the Casino Espanol de Cebu. He looked dapper, wearing a gray vest over a white T-shirt and, on his head was a classy-looking newsboy-styled cap. Beside him was his sexy and beauteous wife, Rachel.

Champion greets champion… with Rachel (in red) and Wakee Salud (center)

Nonito Jr. did not look like—not even the slightest bit—a man who’d shed his shirt daily, flex his abdomen hourly, and thump a contender in minutes.

But, as we all saw 48 hours ago, what a spirited warrior. He was brisk, sprightly, combative. He was slick and deft. And, you’re right, what a left! He’d spring in, bounce out. He was shrewd and he hurried. He was stinging, poisonous. Think about it. Did he not look more like a cobra against The Cobra?

My hope—our hope—as we all huddled around the TV sets last Sunday and celebrated and reveled and clapped in Fil-Am victories, is that on May 3, we will all do the same rejoicing and merrymaking. This time, for one more Fil: The King Cobra of the Philippines.

In this 2007 photo, the Donaires (seated) with (from left) Atty. Jingo Quijano, John Pages, Mike Limpag, Gerry Malixi, Dong Secuya, Manny Villaruel, Salven Lagumbay and (right-most) Paul Rosaroso

Next Fight! Quijano vs. Donaire

With Cholo Verches, Ed Dingal, Oliver Ko and their spouses

Charlie Pages

Mike Limpag, Sun.Star Cebu’s sports editor

With another sports editor, from The Freeman, Manny Villaruel

John P.

Atty. Quijano with the Donaires

]]> http://www.pages.ph/2009/04/flash-photography/feed/ 0 http://www.pages.ph/2009/03/more-photos-by-meyrick-j/ http://www.pages.ph/2009/03/more-photos-by-meyrick-j/#comments Sun, 22 Mar 2009 09:10:31 +0000 jpages http://www.pages.ph/?p=1438 Taken the other Saturday (March 14) during the JUDGEMENT AT THE WATERFRONT event at the Waterfront Cebu City Hotel and Casino, here are more amazing photos by Meyrick Jacalan of Z Gorres, Michael Domingo and Milan Milendo…

To view the complete set of photos by Meyrick, click here.

]]> http://www.pages.ph/2009/03/more-photos-by-meyrick-j/feed/ 0 http://www.pages.ph/2009/03/meyrick-jacalan-photos/ http://www.pages.ph/2009/03/meyrick-jacalan-photos/#comments Tue, 17 Mar 2009 21:45:39 +0000 jpages http://www.pages.ph/?p=1408

But in-the-flesh boxing? With your two eyes? It’s a must. Take last Saturday night at the Waterfront Cebu City Hotel and Casino. Four couples went out on a quadruple date: not to watch the movie “Taken” at the Ayala Cinema or to stargaze and hold hands at Tops or to drink vodka and dance until 2:30 a.m. at Loft. No. Holding hands, we watched boxing. Live. In the flesh.

Chris Aldeguer and his beauteous wife Nia invited our barkada of marathoners—Frederic and Millette Chiongbian, Meyrick and Perl Jacalan, myself and Jasmin—to a slugfest smorgasbord.

What sights did the husbands—and our wives, all first-timers—witness? We saw sweat. We saw faces that turned tomato red. We saw Milan Milendo remain undefeated. We saw the muscleman, Michael Domingo. Three times, the mouthpiece of one fighter flew from his mouth. We saw Joseph von Miñoza wear a Mohawk hairstyle. We saw Z Gorres batter his opponent like a six-year-old would pummel his toy soldier.

(Photo by Frederic Chiongbian)

We saw sweat and spit. Yes. You know, that fluid that gets spewed when a boxer’s abdomen gets thumped? On TV, you’re never showered with such discharge, right?

Well, our group, positioned at the very front row—thanks to Chris A.—sat on the firing line: several moments we twisted back our necks and shut our eyes as rain drizzled inside Waterfront. What’s worse, Frederic and Meyrick, who brought along high-end Nikon cameras, sat at ringside—underneath that red pail where the boxers, ahem… spit—and got a downpour.

This episode? On TV? Never.

The round card girls. Ahhh. Since 88 percent who watch live boxing—in my estimate—possess male hormones, one attraction are the girls who wear scanty attire and possess long legs as slender as Paris Hilton’s.

I’ll never forget, five years ago, the Manny Pacquiao vs. 3K Battery fight at The Fort in Taguig. Guess who their round-card girls were? Diana Zubiri and Juliana Palermo. Wearing bikinis, they received a “jumping-and-screaming ovation” that beat Manny’s standing ovation.

This episode? On TV? Nah.

What’s more, it’s not only what your eyes observe—it’s what your ears hear. Watching live boxing, you’ll hear screams and shrieks that you’ll never hear on that Samsung TV.

“Panguli mo uy!” one man on the upper deck screamed. He was angry at two boxers who, in Round 1, barely pinched each other.

“Kung wala ma knock-out, ha, draw mo ha, draw mo!” another shouted. True enough, the fight ended in a draw—and all laughed.

On another occasion, while the trainer of Roberto Leyva kept on yelling Mexican words to his fighter, one fan couldn’t resist and screamed, “Undang nag yaw-yaw uy!” Everyone roared in laughter.

Ever hear these on TV? Never.

How about observing the crowd? Inside the arena, you’ll see celebrities, government bigwigs, actors and actresses, TV personalities. Across from where we sat were Bill Velasco, Ronnie Nathanielsz and Dyan Castillejo—with their headphones, commenting for TV.

Antonio Lopez Aldeguer, ALA himself, wore his trademark black sweater and, with a mix of excitement and anxiety, paced the Waterfront ballroom floor and, come fight time of his ALA boys, would position himself at the back. You’d see Michael Aldeguer, dashing in his dark black coat. Councilors Jack Jakosalem and Arsenio Pacaña watched from the stage.

Celebrities? Not last Saturday but, during another Pacquiao fight I saw (against Oscar Larios) at the Araneta Coliseum, then-Senator Ralph Recto sat to my left and the comedian Ai-ai de las Alas to my right.

Never on TV can you hobnob with such people.

And so, the next time a boxing spectacle arrives in Cebu, buy a ticket. There’s no experience, I tell you, that’s comparable. Just a reminder: “When seated ringside, beware of slight drizzle.”

As 48 hours remain of the year that brought us 8-8-8, here are, in my opinion, the world’s most celebrated sports stories….

8-8-8: Beijing. Wasn’t it symbolic? Perfect? That their revered number “8” would be their land’s first-ever Olympics? At 8 p.m.? On the eighth day? Of the eighth month? Of the century’s eighth year? As we all look back at the 17 Olympic days, this we can conclude: No other event was bigger-spent, had a more overwhelming Opening Ceremony, and an almost flawless execution than in Beijing.

7) Boston vs. LA. Who’d have imagined such a finale to the NBA season? The Celtics-Lakers rivalry, to any sports fan, is unrivaled. And when they met for the 12th time in an NBA final, the entire basketball world was at awe. Boston won Games 1 and 2 at home. When the dribbling shifted to the Staples Center, the Lakers won Game 3. In the pivotal Game 4, LA led by 24 points—but lost; the biggest comeback in NBA Finals history. Deflated, Boston won the NBA crown in six games—it’s first title in 22 years.

6) Rafa not Roger. For much of his career, Rafael Nadal was famous for one statistic: the title, “longest-reigning No.2 in tennis history.” Not anymore. For, after Rafa demolished Roger Federer at the French Open, he beat the Swiss at Wimbledon in a match many consider one of the game’s best ever. Not finished, Rafa became world no.1 and won gold at the Beijing Games while Roger—down but not out—finished ’08 by winning the US Open.

5) Wounded Tiger. Woods’ US Open victory was one of the greatest of his 14 major titles. In an article I wrote the day of his playoff match against Rocco Mediate, I said: “Tiger is no athlete. He’s not a golfer. He’s no sportsman. He’s a showman. A performer. Like Michael Jackson during his prime, Tiger doesn’t play. He performs. And, in front of 50,000 spectators at Torrey Pines in San Diego, he held his putter like a microphone on stage.” Added Mediate: “It’s just the most amazing display of athletic, mental power that there is, there ever was. Look at him. He hasn’t played in 10 weeks. There’s no surprise to me, but he hasn’t played for 10 weeks!”

4) Filipino PacMan. In a country of 90 million in dire need of heroism, he is God-sent. Manny Pacquiao fought thrice in 2008 and won all three. But that’s a tiny segment of the story. Last March 15, he beat Juan Manuel Marquez in a controversial split decision. That was with the 130-lb. weight class. On June 28, he knocked-out another Mexican, David Diaz, in the 9th round—at the 135-lb. category. And, finally, last Dec. 6 against a man whom everyone believed would embarrass him, Oscar de la Hoya, the fighter from Gen. Santos City dumbfounded his third Mexican victim in a row—at the 147-lb. class.

3) Redeem Team. Was there a basketball team assembled that was stronger? One would argue that the 1992 Dream Team of MJ, Magic and Bird was the most star-studded ever—but, with a lineup that includes Kobe, LeBron, Dwayne Wade, Carmelo Anthony, Jason Kidd, Dwight Howard, Chris Paul, Tayshaun Prince, this team went 8-for-8 games and snatched gold in Beijing.

(Streeter Lecka/Getty Images)

2) Lightning Bolt. Doesn’t he own the perfect name for a sprinter, Bolt? At the Beijing Games, he won the 100-meter dash in 9.69 seconds—in world-record time. But, what’s most amazing was how he slowed down to celebrate meters before the finish (experts said he could have achieved a 9.55 time). Even more dramatic, his shoelaces were untied! On the 200-meter dash, he broke Michael Johnson’s record (19.30) and, to make it 3-for-3, ran the 4 x 100 meters with his Jamaican teammates for another gold—and world-record.

1) Phelps. Standing 6-foot-4 and weighing 200 lbs., he is considered the greatest Olympian—or, as some would say, athlete—in sporting history. His feat in Beijing (winning 8 gold medals in 8 events; 7 of them world records, one Olympic record) is so mind-boggling that, if Phelps were a country, he’d have ranked fourth in gold medals, behind only China, the U.S. and Germany.

From Sun.Star Cebu

When Antonio Lopez Aldeguer speaks, you listen. Yesterday morning, exactly 36 hours after his most prized apprentice, AJ “Bazooka” Banal, collapsed in one of Cebu’s monumental upsets, I listened.

When I asked how he felt, ALA didn’t suppress his feelings.

“Very, very low,” he replied.

Understandably so. AJ Banal, only 19, lived half of his life with the Aldeguers. Residing in Brgy. Ermita, he was plucked from the doldrums and hand-picked as The Chosen One. To the ALA clan, he’s “a member of our family.”

How is AJ? I asked. “He’s doing okay,” Mr. Aldeguer said. “He’ll be out of the hospital today. Nothing serious, no injuries.”

What transpired next was an 11-minute phone conversation I had with ALA, whose insights and acumen are unmatched in boxing.

What happened? I queried. “His body collapsed,” ALA said. “He allowed himself to be hit. AJ took a lot of punches to the liver. He received too many body punches.”

Should the referee, I inquired, have stepped in more to stop Concepcion from punching while they were locked together?

“I don’t want to make that as an alibi,” he said. “AJ just got hit and hit in the body. AJ should not have held Concepcion’s arm and allowed him to box him using his other hand.”

Excuses, you see, ALA despises. Always, he is direct and candid.

Over-trained? Was AJ? “No,” he said. “I’ve been reading a lot of reports saying that. That’s not true. On the matter of conditioning, AJ was better conditioned. Factor one: AJ’s weight was a perfect 115 lbs. The opponent? He had to shed 1 ½ lbs. the day before. The week before the fight, Concepcion also had to reduce weight. Next, jet lag, which Concepcion had to endure. Plus, we were at our place (Cebu) while the opponent had to adjust to the hotel, to the food…”

When I mentioned to ALA that, based on many reports, AJ Banal was superbly trained—and that’s why his looking fatigued starting the 7th round was perplexing—he agreed.

“AJ is actually the perfect athlete to train,” he said. “He is very dedicated and disciplined. He is a good boy. And his attitude is fantastic. His mistake was that he allowed himself to be hit.”

In that 10th round, I next asked Mr. Aldeguer, we all saw that AJ stood up right after the referee’s 10th count. Why didn’t he stand before the final count and, instead, run around to exhaust the remaining 25 seconds?

“We don’t know what’s on his mind,” said ALA. “Yes, he was winning comfortably in points and could have easily won the fight had he stayed on. But we don’t know. Only AJ can answer that. We don’t know what he was thinking at that point.”

As to Rafael Concepcion? Like all of us who witnessed the fight at the jam-packed Cebu Coliseum—and to the tens of thousands more who watched on TV—ALA was all praises for “El Torito.”

“Concepcion wanted it more,” said ALA. “No excuses. We lost the fight because the other guy wanted it more.”

True. In boxing, more than any other sport because it’s one-on-one, that adage is unquestionable: Whoever wants it more wins. And, last Saturday, the Panamanian had more guts, tenacity, spirit.

Asking where he was inside the Cebu Coliseum because I didn’t see him, Aldeguer replied, “You’ll never see me near the ring. I watched fronting the TV because I can analyze the fight better. Also, I don’t want the limelight. I don’t want the TV focus. In my 20 plus years in boxing, I’ve never stood beside the ring. I’ve never gotten up the ring. I want the honor to go to the boxers.”

Finally, I asked, “What, to you, is failure? You’ve witnessed, through the decades, a lot of defeats in boxing. How do you define failure?”

His answer, as expected, was awe-inspiring. An ALA to AJ admonition, he said: “You never reach the top unless you reach the bottom.”