Nasaan ba ang parada at sasama ako.
Last Sunday was the first time I saw a boxing match in the big screen and in real time. Hell, it was the first time I saw a boxing match, period. You must know that I am the worst person in the world to bring to a sports match. Any sports match (except perhaps Cheerleading.) I’m the bored daughter and sister who would roll her eyes when her father and brother would whoop it up with the neighbors during Anejo-Shell games. I’m the annoying girlfriend who always needs a primer on the rules before every game, and asks explanations for the self-evident (i.e., “what does it mean when the timer buzzes?”)
But Sunday was different. Manny Pacquiao is different. That left hook made me an instant fan of Pacquiao and an instant fan of boxing. IT WAS AMAZING, UNBELIEVABLE AND OVER TOO SOON. I found myself screaming with the rest of the audience, pumping my fist in the air, running home after to catch the news, watching the reruns, and getting into nightly post-fight loud rowdy discussions with the manginginom boys (i.e., “lupit ni pacquiao! WASAK, wasak si hatton!”).
Other people can get their panties in a bunch and pompously pontificate about the Filipino people’s crisis of hope and how we latch on to false heroes to make us forget our poverty and desperation. I say Sunday’s match was nothing if not technical genius and rare human achievement. Please don’t dilute it with your angst.
And a word about the National Anthem hoopla. Sabi nga ng pinsan kong 16-year=old na nag-aaral sa Saint Scho: CHILLAX. People are screwing our Constitution and the Bill of Rights and raiding the national coffers as we speak, and Martin Nievera’s rendition of Lupang Hinirang is generating national outrage? I’m not a fan of Martin (ayoko ng masyadong participatory body parts when singing), but really, a “test case” against him?
Anyway, all annoying nega vibes aside, Manny’s back! Yay! No, he doesn’t make me proud to be Filipino because I’m already proud to be Filipino. And no, he doesn’t give me “hope”, because ehrm, in the work I do, I live on hope taken with a dash of Gin Calamansi.
But he made me mighty happy last Sunday, and he made a fan out of me. I think that’s good enough reason to go out this weekend, find a Manny Party, and tell him, YOU’RE DA MAN.