CENTURY CITY – The small sensation of power that a press pass can give (it gets you past the first guards) ebbs quickly once you’re in corridors of an international boxing promotion tour press conference, cocooned inside a bullpen as big as the Los Angeles Room at the Hyatt Century Plaza Hotel in this city.
Some things never change. There are heaps of photographers of every species, race, color and creed, TV Cameramen, the renowned wire sports photographers—they were the big guns and boxing is their turf, kingdom and canvas. It’s always a field day for sports photographers, in a jubilation that epitomize the mix of old and new in sports media. Forget print media, we don’t matter.
Ubiquitous security men are scattered all around, always striking an expedient post, burly but clean cut, effective and disciplined. They descend on every Pacquaio bout, threatening with their usual announcement: no posing for photographs, no asking for autographs, or face immediate banishment from the media convergence.
Mr. Bob Arum, still astonishingly handsome and oozing with chutzpah, introduced the boxers and their entourage, then declared open the ungentle riot of question and answer to be followed with one on one interview on a red carpet, by a media wall, with the brawlers.
A reporter is allowed three minutes for a one-on-one interview with the sports icon, as over a hundred colleagues from all over the world, wait for their ultimate chance of their few minutes of glory. The thought that your publisher, editors and friends knew that you were there was intoxicating!
We already know that the Congressman Boxer has earned millions these past years, excluding endorsement, appearances, sponsorship money and other sources of money.
“Congressman, what have you done outside the ring, you consider the most worthwhile?”
“Ang pagtulong ko sa kapwa ko, ang panalig ko sa Diyos,” he said.
He was elected as Congressman, and is a recording artist, whose first single Sometimes when We Touch (a revival song of Dan Hill) sold out only after 12 hours on Amazon.com
His kind-hearted nature is part of his charisma. He successfully pushed for the hospital that was constructed in his district, as well as playgrounds and health centers, not to mention numerous charitable projects. I asked him the question I would ask every person of power and authority I’ve interviewed:
“So, Congressman Pacquiao, it seems that you have everything that one could wish for… what else are you living for, Sir?”
“Pagtulong sa mga tao, sa lahat. Money does not always buy results. Kindness, giving them inspiration, and courage and dignity,” he answered. “Mabuhay ng marangal…you treat everyone fair, no one is higher or lower than anyone—all of us are Children of God.”
He said that he wants nothing more, except for his children to grow up loving each other especially their mother and have pure joy and a sense of humor. But most importantly, he wants them to share whatever they can as they grow up.
Even in a softball interview, the question of his new faith surfaces and persists. “Sir, has your new faith really affected your career?”
“Wala ng alak, sugal, babae.”
In the boxing world, where only the best would face the best, whoever carries the belt (regardless of promotional affiliations, prestige and bragging rights) is what counts. I could only wish I have attended more fights, probably going all the way from Cain and Abel, then I would probably know more about fighter stories, from the soaring hope of young fighters to long goodbyes of veterans and the jogged lines of their journeys in between. Perhaps I would learn more about who did what to whom, the chorus around super boxers—men and women with diverse backgrounds, filled with their own dreams, who made their living from fighters’ dreams without ever having to throw a punch. These are the trainers, managers, promoters, booking agents, publicists and camp aides with their own brand of resourcefulness, loyalty, cunning. They are put into the business where boxing politics could be a crazy roulette and as such are subject to the whims and exigencies of other schemers.
Their bunch, who have to stand on the, back row for group photo-op with the great warriors behind the scene, but have access to power. How do I pull the curtain to reveal their doubts, fears and tribulations? How do they keep their uneasy posts? These includes referees and close in photographers.
There is always a pre fight drama, the simmering animosity and controversy between the brawlers. But last Wednesday, might as well be the “new age of boxing promotion,” as Mr. Arum said.
We have yet to see a press con where both camps outdo each other in terms of courtesy, appropriateness, and politeness to one and all. One of the allures of boxing is its quixotic inflammation of the senses.
Last Wednesday afternoon, the mood of the place, is something we have not seen except in stale photographs and bland stories we should not have written. It was choking with restraint!
The spirit of boxing has no one definition.
