3 sports ‘loves’

TALKING of sports, I had three “loves” as a youngster during the 1960s – basketball, soccer and boxing.

During my heyday, I did play basketball and soccer although I never tried boxing. No, I was not afraid of the blood-letting associated with boxing. I was then skinny-framed and my late mom did not want me to transform into a bully ala-Popeye’s Brutus terrorizing the neighborhood. Ouch.

The game of basketball then and now remains my first love. Then again, I was a bit lean and small to play hoops as a kid. And so I engaged in a second sport – soccer (or what is now locally called football).

I played soccer for some time. I stopped doing so when I reached teen-hood and simply watched the games at the old Rizal Memorial Football Stadium such as the Asian Youth competitions where the Philippines offered a stiff challenge to the powerhouses in – take note – the Asian continent. We are not talking about the strongest teams in the Southeast Asian region where, even at that level, our current Azkals booters have had a hard time winning over their opponents as evidenced by their performance in the 30th Southeast Asian Games hosted by the country.

Through the years, my fascination with soccer wavered a bit for I felt the games were not as exciting as watching basketball contests since the match scores were often on the low side and draws of 0-0 were one too many.

Still, for whatever it’s worth, I was smitten by soccer because playing the game taught me how to run fast and develop stamina.

As a teenager, my eldest brother often accompanied me to various basketball games at the Rizal Memorial Coliseum or at faraway Araneta Coliseum in Cubao, Quezon City.

The two of us would sneak in and out of the Big Dome for important games like the finals of the post-graduate Manila Industrial and Commercial Athletic Association (MICAA) league, the precursor of the professional Philippine Basketball Association (PBA), and other local and international cage tournaments.

Ticket prices to those games were prohibitive (scalpers, it seemed, had more tickets in their hands than those manning the ticket booths in the venue) but somehow my brother would find a way to shell out hard-earned bucks for us to be able to witness the games “live.”

Boxing had also come into my life at a tender age because of my family’s closeness to Laura Sarreal, the wife of Filipino boxing great Gabriel (Flash) Elorde. In the 1960s, the Sarreals had lived just across my parents’ apartment in the so-called “tourist belt” along A. Mabini Street in Ermita, Manila.

Laura was close to my mom and she often gave us complimentary tickets to Elorde’s fights at the Araneta Coliseum.

During the late 1960s and early 1970s, I was exposed to professional boxing through the magic of television, having witnessed the international fights of Filipino world champions such as Rene Barrientos, Bernabe Villacampo, Erbito Salavarria and Hawaii-born Ben Villaflor and legendary world heavyweight king Muhammad Ali (the former Cassius Clay) from the United States.

Until now, my love for boxing has not waned. And it has something to do with another Filipino great, the world’s only eight-time division champion Manny Pacquiao, now a member of the Philippine Senate.

More than a boxer, I think the Pacman would make an excellent professor for the subject “How to Unify a Nation” with him as the prime example.

Whenever he fights, the entire Filipino nation rallies behind him. He puts Filipinos of different shapes and colors – politicians from opposing sides, government forces and rebels, the rich and the poor, the ordinary and the famous – all in one place. He also makes traffic everywhere disappear by midday.

Only the Bible-studying Pacquiao is capable of doing that. He is our national treasure, a hero who does not run away from any battle.

And that’s why I continue to enjoy watching boxing at the twilight of my life.