Pride of the Philippines

This morning I found myself leaving my apartment at 9:30 in the morning so I could go to the bar. My purpose was not to get completely inebriated before Sunday lunch, but to watch the Oscar De La Hoya/Manny Pacquiao fight live and in full Filipino glory. Anyone who follows the sport of boxing knows that Manny Pacquaio is the pride of the Philippines. In addition, Hong Kong has a very large population of Filipino workers, most of whom have Sundays off. The only place I could see this fight being more entertaining to watch is in Las Vegas, where it is being held, or the Philippines.

I ended up arriving at The Devil's Advocate, a sports bar in Wan Chai that is situated amidst cheap restaurants, trendy bars, and disreputable night clubs, right at 10. When the sun goes down the streets are teeming with drunken expats, prostitutes wearing neon skirts that end right below the ass, and working class Hong Kongers who are always on the move. On this particular Sunday morning, the streets were void of everything.

I arrived right as the telecast began for two reasons; I am a ravenous boxing fan and like to watch as many fights as I can, but more importantly, I was not sure how dedicated the Filipinos in Hong Kong would be when it came to watching the fight. Would they arrive before the bar even opened and stake a place in line? Would they get all the good seats, in turn, forcing me to stand for 3 hours? I would soon find that they are a dedicated and loyal group of fight fans, but I still managed to be the second person into the bar, thus securing a prime location to watch the events unfold.

After an undercard which featured 3 mismatches, 2 Carlsberg's, and a Tuna Melt on Foccacia bread, it was time for the main event. The bar was filled with at least 100 people, 90 of which were Filipino. There were even Filipino workers watching through the open doors of the bar from the bed of their pickup truck, parked directly in front on the street. It is said that in the Philippines, when Manny Pacquiao fights, all 90 million people will stop what they're doing and watch. It is also reported that there is absolutely no crime at all when one of his fights is televised. Such is the length that Filipinos will go to support their countryman and hero.

My table, that I had occupied for the previous two hours by myself, quickly filled up with Pacquiao supporters. At first they were confused by me. Who would I be rooting for? To the untrained eye one might say I even slightly resemble De La Hoya (or in any case, a Mexican). It's a good thing I had every intention of rooting for Pacquiao. It might have been uncomfortable going against the grain in that atmosphere.

This fight was being billed as "The Dream Match," a matchup of the best pound-for-pound fighter in the world in Pacquiao against the most marketable/popular in De La Hoya. A great little man in the prime of his career moving up 2 wight classes to take on a great bigger man nearing the end of his. Pacquaio is a tornado in the ring, a whirling dervish of unbridled ferocity and movement. However, he was the underdog because many believed De La Hoya was just too big for him. De La Hoya had the height advantage, reach advantage, and the technique (sound fundamentals and left hook) to take Pacquiao out. For this reason, it was frowned upon by diehard boxing fans. While the average fight fan who can only name a few boxers would salivate over the prospect of these two hooking up, the boxing "fraternity" scoffed at the size differential. There is a reason though why fights are fought in the ring and not on paper.

Filipino national anthem, Mexican national anthem, American national anthem, Michael Buffer and his "Let's get ready to rumble." It was time for the fight to begin. The fighters touched gloves, the bell rang, and for 30 seconds the interior of The Devil's Advocate was silent and still. Then Pacquiao landed a straight left hand right up the middle and the screaming and cheering began. Every time that Pacquaio landed a decent punch the patrons would go crazy. In between the first and second round, a man at my table started a "Manny, Manny!" chant. A small Pacquiao doppelgänger walked into the bar and everyone shouted in Tagalog to him and applauded. He smiled and joined the festivities.

Every round that went by, the cheers became louder for the Filipino hero. The two outspoken De La Hoya supporters (Westerners obviously) became more quiet and subdued. Pacquaio looked great. De La Hoya looked old. Midway through the fight it became clear that Pacquiao did not care about size differential. His speed and footwork were too much for De La Hoya, and his power shots were doing all the damage. And just like that, after 8 one-sided rounds, De La Hoya quit on his stool, and Pacquiao made an entire bar full of patrons erupt in a celebratory frenzy.

There is an old boxing adage that says "It's not the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog." No fighter more clearly exemplifies this than Manny Pacquiao. When he fights, he says he does so for his countrymen. He says he feels their support when he steps into the ring. He is fiercely proud of his country, and in return, his countrymen are extremely loyal to him.

After the fight Pacquaio said to De La Hoya "You are still my idol," to which De La Hoya replied "No, you're my idol."

With that statement, Oscar De La Hoya has joined at least 90 million other people who share the same belief.