Pacquiao covered everything

Everywhere I go, since I returned to Bacolod after watching the Pacquiao-Morales fight in Las Vegas, people keep asking or pressing me to write some more on what I had seen or heard about "The Battle" between the two ring idols from their respective countries, Emmanuel "Manny" Pacquiao of the Philippines, and Erik Morales of Mexico. It looks as if Negrenses and Bacoleños, like Pinoys everywhere, are so proud of their fighter that they cannot hear enough about him.

***

Well, one of the first things I learned about Pacquiao the moment our group arrived at the Wynn Hotel, the newest and tallest building along the famous "Strip", was that he sticks to his schedule. At 8 p.m., he is already in bed, getting his pre-fight quota of sleep. Nobody can disturb him then. When we got into his suite next morning, I noticed the sign on his door stating that he could not be disturbed after that time. It was nice to know that he is a disciplined person.

***

On the morning of the fight, I was told that we were going to his suite to hear mass. I had not planned to go, thinking it might be awkward for the Champ to have women visitors at such a time, but my companions said I was also expected, so I hastily splashed cold water on my face, and slipped into my thermals and sweater (it was awfully cold there), and rushed with the gang. I had to be with them, otherwise the security might not let me in. His suite could be reached through a different elevator, you see.

***

We arrived when Pacquiao was just finishing breakfast that consisted of rice, tinolang manok with malunggay leaves and an omelet. Like a true Filipino host, he rose to welcome us and urged us to take our breakfast. To my surprise, he started clearing the table, removing the used plates (paper ones), and handing out new ones to us. The boys immediately started, but I couldn't imagine eating tinola in the morning. After a few minutes of watching them, however, I remembered that I had to take my medicines and vitamins, and condescended to eat a mouthful of the flat-tasting omelet.

***

It was a providential decision, because the mass that was supposed to start at 8 a.m. did not take place until past 10 as we were waiting for first gentleman Mike Arroyo, who was later followed by his son, Rep. Mikey Arroyo. The officiating priest, Fr. Marlon Beof, gave a beautiful homily, and later blessed both Manny and the new boxer form Oriental Negros, Gemrich Jaka. I cannot recall what else we did after the mass, but we were not able to return to our quarters anymore until long after the fight.

***

All the while I was regretting that I was not able to wear the outfit I had planned for the big event, and was still clad in the crumpled jeans and warm, but nondescript sweater, part of the anti-cold wardrobe supplied by thoughtful relatives and friends that made me feel like an ukay-ukay queen. Especially when I saw classy-looking dames with fur collars and long gowns get into the ringside areas. Of course there were several dressed like bums, like me, too. Anyway, you can look like a penniless pauper, but it's different when you are seated in the $500-dollar ticket area. I know that now.

***

Another thing I noticed in the Thomas and Mack Center, which is part of the Las Vegas Nevada University campus, is that they allow bottled drinks there. So hawkers calling "Ice cold beer, water" go around making offers to the crowd. But a regular-sized bottle of mineral water cost you about five dollars (more than P250 to us) so I just held my thirst. We were in the 10th row and I noticed Rep. Prospero Nograles, GAB Boxing official Noli Ferrer and Pacquiao's manager Wakee Salud, our very accommodating host, in the same row. I also saw Jude Estrada in front of us.

***

I didn't see them all, but I was told former President George Bush (the father), infamous boxer Mike Tyson, and other boxing greats like the one who had beaten Morales earlier, were also there. The morning after the historic fight, we were back in Pacquiao's suite. This time he had some bruises on his face, and we only "clapped palms" as I could see his hand was rather swollen. All over the place were newspapers carrying headlines about the victory. I told him prayers had helped a lot in making him win. I did not comment anymore that he had also covered everything. When he had to leave before we had finished eating the day of the fight, he smiled and reached out to turn around the plate of one of our companions.*

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