After crawling through morning duties, we finally got in the car and zoomed away. I drove this time. w00t. I was quite scared going up the Rosario flyover, but I did fine. Might I add, I hit a security guard with my side mirror while entering the car park.
But this blog isn't about my still under-developement driving skills.
It's about Pacquiao.
Now, I know, I'm not his biggest fan. In fact, I wasn't too keen on going. One, because I had to wake up early. Two, because I'm not a big boxing fan. Sure, I went to boxing lessons last year, but I'd still rather watch a LIVE game of basketball and root for whoever.
Anyhow, after eating (free) breakfast, I slept through the pre-matches. Yes, I was that sleepy--even if I was in a ballroom full of people (who wouldn't care about me dozing off either way). Crowne Plaza's a/c temperature wasn't really helping in keeping me awake--it was too damn cold and cozy.
My dad woke me up right when the last pre-fight finished.
And everybody was all excited. The energy was just waiting to be released from the room.
Now, as I mentioned, I was never really a big fan of Pacquiao.
I remember two fights before, I wished he lost since he was getting too smug. But I also remember wishing he'd win the last time since his opponent was a big gloater.
This time, I was a bit indifferent.
Anyhow, Martin Nievera sang the national anthem. Somehow, it gave me goosebumps.
Setting aside the thought that the National Bureau of whatever might chide him for belting out, I felt a sense of pride. Our national anthem was being sung proudly in front of an audience of millions--billions maybe.
What an honor, I thought.
Fast forward, we have Manny Pacquiao entering the arena (with Batista behind him) and the whole ballroom going wild. Applauding and hooting as if we were actually there.
It made me smile. (And they actually used a Manny Pacquiao song. Hehe.)
Fast forward again and the first round begins.
You'd think the Brit was taking this one but Manny starts getting into the game, and soon enough, he knocks Hatton down to the floor. Once again, the ballroom roars.
He knocks him out again an everyone's on their feet as if he had already won the game.
It put a big smile on my face as I sat down clapping my hands, content.
It was then that it donned on me.
Pacquiao is truly one of those few blessings given to us Filipinos in the sense that he binds us all together. I mean, not even the elections or, say, Sarah Geronimo can gather all of us into one thing, but Churches would be empty every time there was a Pacquiao match. You'd think that's a bad thing, but going it again, what other bond keeps us united?
He practically transcends through religion, politics, social class and other crap in the sense that he brings out a sense of nationalism in everyone. Something to unite us.
Now, I'm not saying he should get into politics and run for president. Neither am I saying he should be a local star or even an international one. (Heard the news about the Pacquiao-Stallone movie?)
All I mean to say is that it's wonderful that we him to give us hope. Hope that we CAN be one nation. At least for those two minutes (or less) that he showed up on screen and kicked ass, we were ONE nation.
He eventually knocked out hatton on the second round. WOW.
Everyone was jumping for joy. Screaming. w00ting.
I was happy.
Fast forward, he's being interviewed. And it's still the same bad English. Down-to-earth. It always seems to crack me up.
(Check this out. Funniest ever! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VxA0OVqhKFw)
Later on, they head on to interview Bob Arum who was nothing but praise for Pacquiao, calling him the best there is. Taken from him, we should always keep on learning, even when we're on top.
What struck me was Pacquiao's interruption.
It was beautiful. And it did mean something. (Even if Arum sort of shrugged it off.)
"Don't forget God!"- Manny Pacquiao